#SERIES : fantasy . . . the city of silk

[lvebug]

tag drop 1!

[buckyschair]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: On a dreaded visit to the Hewn City, Azriel finds more than he bargained for. It’s only fitting that when your wildest fantasies come true in a land of nightmares, it's with a forbidden visitor rather than your own husband… After all, who could be a better affair partner than the master of spies? 

A/N: Cheating is wrong! But aesthetically? It’s so rich! Can you tell I’ve been listening to ‘Scotty Doesn’t Know' on repeat? And thanks to other songs like ‘Ivy’ and ‘Illicit Affairs’, an illicit relationship just sounded sexy and sad! So here’s a messy little story about cheating WITH Azriel. Let me know what you think of the reader character, I tried to make her unlikeable at first but then I became sympathetic to her so idk where we ended up.

Content Warnings: 18+ only, smut, cheating, alcohol, female reader, shitty unnamed husband (not physically abusive), slight dom/bdsm overtones, casual shadow bondage, thigh riding, oral M receiving, PIV sex (no protection bc they are faeries and this is fiction, but put on your mental magic condom if you must), gross liberties taken with whatever’s going on with the Hewn City, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 7.6k

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✸✸✸ 

Wine. A warm bath. Silk sheets. 

“Did you see her shoes? With that jewelry?”

Your sapphire hand mirror. A lobster bisque. The perfect shade of red lipstick. 

“Oh, did I see them? They practically assaulted me the moment I walked into the hall!”

You took a sharp breath, and continued to block your surroundings with mental images. A massage. The look on your husband’s face when he sees you chatting with another male–

“She has no shame.”

You snorted, abruptly disguising it with a cough. The two ladies looked at you with barely concealed disdain, clearly not convinced by your weak cover up. You schooled your features into a cool mask once more as they drifted away through the throng of guests. 

Well then, so much for keeping yourself entertained during this dull gala. You had a pretty pathetic collage of curios to distract yourself with. The concepts were a flimsy screen between you and the stale evening ahead; monotony at its worst. 

You’d rather be anywhere but here. 

A foolish thought, you realized, given that you’d never been anywhere but here, except for brief diplomatic visits with your husband. Those were always awfully dull, your every movement watched and examined out of suspicion. You couldn’t blame your hosts. After all, you were from the Night Court, spawn of the worst bastards of Prythian. 

No shame! You recalled the gossiping courtiers. Now who were they to judge someone for having no shame, when they were here gossiping in front of the Mother and everyone? And in equally appalling finery, no less! One of the two females was actually trying to get away with a bright orange dress. You sighed, almost pitying her for her sorry attempt. 

But this was the Hewn City, at the heart of the Court of Nightmares, as it was deemed in hushed whispers. There wasn’t enough air here to waste it on pity. 

Faeries of all kinds waltzed and chattered around the ballroom before empty thrones. Gaudy gowns and coats and heels and stoles– was that fur? Mother help us– blurred together as you took in the choked crowd. The decadent buffet? Untouched. The sparkling beverages? Much indulged. Such was typical. 

What was the purpose of this event? You couldn’t quite recall. They were endless, these damned things. 

What an odious affair. You’d been playing a game in your mind, to keep yourself from going mad. The goal was to picture all your favorite things, everything that brought you solace, and to try and hold them all in your mind at once. 

Pointless, you chided yourself. It hadn’t stopped you from being disturbed by the insidious chatter of fellow partygoers. Despite the pleasant premise of the mental game, the montage left a bad taste in your mouth. 

You had pictured everything that you looked forward to, and it had all taken up so little space. The game was ended so quickly. Your lips pursed, your good mood gone sour. You blamed the two females for interrupting your train of thought. They’d ruined your concentration, that was it. 

You needed a drink. Your glass had been empty for far too long, you noted with displeasure. 

Where was your husband anyways? He’d gone off for refreshments a while ago. Probably mixing with the elite, making sure his face was seen. He fancied himself a real big player in the court's inner workings, but you sincerely doubted it. Unfortunately, as the one he fucked most frequently for a number of years there, you knew firsthand how his ego was built on fantasy. 

How long had he left you alone here? You couldn’t say. You weren’t exactly minding his absence. Temporary bliss was still bliss, you mused, resolving to find some real entertainment. You clicked your tongue once in distaste before gliding away from the pillar where you’d been camped out for the majority of the function. 

Your husband always laughed at how you admired the fabrication of the city. But you couldn’t resist it. The pillar behind you was one of your favorites. Carved of dark stone, hordes of twisting figures decorating its face. They appeared to be in agony at first glance. A closer look revealed that they were in fact artfully engaged in all kinds of fornication. If only all pain could be turned into pleasure as easily as carving ebony. 

Fuck, if you weren’t in a philosophical mood this evening. Sober, too. 

Your husband was nowhere to be seen, a small mercy. He always hated your moods. You couldn’t blame him, you supposed, but you did regardless. 

  Right as you made it to a servant with a decanter of amber liquid, the room fell into an uncharacteristic hush. Your fingers plucked a full glass before you turned to scan the room for the cause.

Your eyes fell on the figures advancing from the center of the room as if they’d just appeared there. But of course, they had.

You scolded yourself as you glimpse the High Lord and his entourage. 

Of course! How could you have forgotten? After all, that was why your husband had been so insistent on your attending tonight. The High Lord had specifically requested this event be thrown to honor… shit. Something. They did so many of these meaningless parties, often without any real reason, other than to show off that they could. 

Your attention turned fully to the newcomers. They cut quite a fine figure. You understood why they caused the room’s collective breath to catch. 

A subtle movement to the right of the High Lord grabbed your eye. You couldn’t help your own sharp intake of breath as you noticed the shadows flickering around the imposing Illyrian. In his leathers and simmering blue siphons, there was no mistaking him. It was the shadowsinger. 

A thrill escaped down your spine at the realization. You’d heard hushed whispers about the High Lord’s spymaster, but you hadn’t known that he would be here tonight. His menacing quiet was unnerving. It was no wonder that rumor spoke of a seething rage masked by his calm demeanor. He never visited the city under the mountain these days. You wondered absently what he was doing here now. 

He held himself with precision, a weapon at the right hand of his Lord. His wings were folded tightly, but it did little to hide their looming presence. The horns hovering over his shoulders only added to his threatening presence. Beneath his wings, his broad shoulders were relaxed, his demeanor casual as he strolled with cool power to stand beside the throne. Once stationed, he crossed his arms, his muscles emphasized with little effort. Fuck. What you wouldn’t do to feel them over you. 

Irritation simmered across your chest as your husband sidled up to you, your budding fantasy shattered. 

He didn’t so much as look at you as he shoved a glass in your direction. You received it with equal affection, now awkwardly holding two glasses. His attention rested fully on the group by the throne. What an ass. 

The perfume on his coat was a scent you would never choose for yourself; it was far too sweet for your tastes. Your nose curled unconsciously– not at his infidelity, but at his poor taste. You hoped he would never buy you a similar perfume. Let him enjoy it on some other tramp. 

As it was now, his lust was focused on the conversation at the head of the room. The Steward, Keir, motioned to your husband, and incidentally you, as he spoke to his Lord. 

You felt your husband’s excitement, and you were certain it was evident to the blind and the dead as well. You sighed, resigned to the lack of tact that sullied his political sensibilities. He’d been gifted a hunger for power, without the typical tact for courting it. Shameless, the word flashed again in your mind. Yet, you couldn’t deny that he’d secured a decent knowledge of the court’s security in his current position under Keir. 

He practically skipped when the Steward gestured for him, and you followed with a more metered step after passing your now-empty drinks off to a nearby attendant with a grimace. Despite your efforts, you knew that dignity was not something you could afford to value in this court. Still, you kept your chin up as you followed your male counterpart, straining at the stifling society. You drowned out his obsequious remarks as introductions were made between the males. 

You wished the female one was here, the Morrigan. She made your blood freeze, but you preferred her cool disdain to the slimy males before you. You swallowed your irritation, keeping your face neutral as meetings were arranged. 

To cool your mounting headache, you entertained yourself by taking in the shadowsinger out of the corner of your eye. A scant glance rewarded you with a stunning image of the male, who was intently focused on the conversation at hand. His handsome features were darkened with swirling shadows. 

He was even better up close. You’d lost count of the instances where you’d caught a pleasant figure across the room only to be disappointed upon closer inspection. But this male was a specimen, indeed. 

His dark brows trailed into a strong nose, his strong jaw upheld by a sturdy throat, one that you’d love to sink your teeth into. His hands were thick and scarred. You pictured what they could do to you, how meticulously they could pick you apart, stroke by savage stroke. The tough material of his leathers was snug in all the right places, tight around his massive thighs. Your thoughts erupted with fantasy at the details of his statuesque figure. 

What held your attention the most, though, were his eyes. You would expect them to be dark, shadowy. Yet they were a rich amber, and startlingly bright. You flicked your gaze away quickly, but their burn lingered in your ears as if he’d caught your stare outright.  

It was a pity he was just standing there. You wondered absently how you could cause a distraction, maybe fainting or starting a fight so you could see him in action. Your fantasies were interrupted as the conversation wrapped up, your husband butchering platitudes that he surely thought charming. You avoided choking on your disdain, but only narrowly.

As you walked away, Azriel released a deep breath. Cassian cleared his throat, a shit eating grin lurking beneath his cool features. 

You’d kept your face perfectly pleasant throughout the whole interaction, not so much as a twitch to betray your insidious thoughts. But far be it from you to maintain propriety in the presumed privacy of your own mind... 

Little did you know how loud your thoughts were. You couldn’t have hidden them, not from the present company, even if you’d known you ought to. Your thoughts were written in your skin, in your scent, hidden to most, but obvious to the High Lord’s elite. 

“Well, well, Azriel. It’s just irresponsible for you to torture our citizens like that,” Rhys teased his brother as you walked out of earshot, oblivious to the three pairs of eyes taking in your generous retreating figure.  

“I thought I was going to hurl if she didn’t stop undressing you with her eyes,” Cass drawled, fluttering his lashes in a dramatic imitation. 

Azriel just snorted and shook his head. 

“Hey Rhys, remember when Azriel was just a fledgling and couldn’t get any?”

“You mean yesterday? Yes,” Rhys responded with equal humor. “Since when was he the most fuckable?”

“Jealous, much?” Azriel cut in before Cass could continue the vulgar jokes.

“You could do worse,” Rhys said suggestively, amusement playing underneath his carefully arranged expression. 

Azriel hummed. “I think I’d better do some recon later tonight, what do you think?” The boys grinned at that, Cassian hiding his snicker from the room behind his hand.

It was easy for Azriel to take their jeering in good humor when his ego had been rubbed just right by your attention. His eyes found you again in the crowd, your figure filling out your dress in a way that was downright sinful. He couldn’t wait for this damned event to be over. 

✸✸✸

Your husband, the idiot that he was, wasn’t a fool. So, he had Azriel’s room heavily guarded and warded that evening. 

Which was exactly why Azriel found it so simple to steal his way into your quarters, with the guards conveniently occupied elsewhere.  

The dark was especially thick as he crept down the halls of the Hewn City’s elite. He hated to spend a night here, wasted in the dank underbelly of a mountain. The event had passed without incident, if only barely. It was only a thinning scrap of discipline that kept him from lashing out at Keir. His greasy tone had Azriel’s fist curling around Truthsinger all night. If he was being honest, it was only his respect for Mor’s claim on her own father’s life that held his blade. 

That blade stayed sheathed even now, as he slipped soundlessly into your dwelling. It was almost insulting how easily the wards and locks were bypassed. 

Azriel found you exactly where his shadows had anticipated, curled up on a cushioned chair in front of a roaring fireplace. A needless extravagance, given the magic that heated the whole city. 

You were still in your dress from the ball, edible as ever, and your hair has been let down. His eyes trailed the mussed locks around your throat as you swallowed a mouthful from a crystal cut glass. You set your drink down on the low table beside you. 

His silent steps faltered as he spotted a second glass, lightly sweating in the warm air. Was your husband home after all? 

As his shadows moved soundlessly to canvas the apartment, you paused with your hand still on your drink. 

It took every inch of Azriel’s discipline to keep his composure as you turned to face him. He shuddered at the sparks roiling in your expression. 

You'd been expecting him. 

“It’s considered polite to knock, you know,” you stated. He was frozen, pinned under your unexpected gaze. Your eyes raked over his tall figure, drinking him in with barely concealed desire. His fingers twitched. 

“And it’s impolite to stare,” he shot back. 

You smiled at that, teeth glowing sharp in the firelight. 

“Touché.”

He drifted further into the room, his shadows skirting around the perimeter, flanking you as he approached. The fire dampened at his power permeating the air. You didn’t even bother pretending to flinch.

“Have a drink with me,” you invited, unperturbed. “Or would that be improper, too?”

In reply, Azriel grabbed the spare glass, and knocked it back in one smooth motion. When he set it down, two of his digits stroked the delicate rim gratuitously, his eyes never leaving yours. He snagged your drink from under your fingers and perched above you on the arm of your chair, dauntless as ever. 

He was playing a dangerous game, stealing what wasn’t his. 

“We weren’t introduced,” he began casually as he stared down at you. 

“Oh?” 

“I saw you earlier tonight,” he said, his syllables crisp. “Typically, someone might introduce their spouse to the High Lord and his retinue.”

“Ah,” you said, understanding. “He’s had so much on his mind,” you excused your husband’s lapse in manners with a dismissive wave of your hand. He was many things, but you could never claim him to be poorly mannered. At least not outside the home.  

“Is that what you are to him?” came the reply. “An afterthought?” 

Your silence was answer enough.

He continued, menacingly, “I can’t understand that. I could hardly think of anything else all evening, with you there, and in this outfit.” His eyes bored into your soul, his blunt words making you blush. Not out of embarrassment, but in exhilaration. 

“I can’t say I understand him, either.” You were annoyed at the topic, this was not what you’d expected to talk about with the gorgeous male towering above you. In fact, talking had little to do with your hopes for the evening…

“And where is he tonight?” Azriel pressed. The question was unexpected.

“Privacy is one of the few luxuries I have,” you whispered seductively. 

The shadowsinger scoffed at that, eying the expensive interior where you sat. 

“I doubt that.” 

“Are you calling me a liar?” He levelled you with a look, and waited patiently for a real answer. You swallowed, deciding your pride should learn to live with the truth. “I don’t know where he is. Well, I know the answer is someone’s bed, certainly. But where? With who? I don’t ask anymore,” you admitted.  

Azriel nodded. He wasn’t judging you, you realized. He was just gathering information, calculating. His eyes narrowed as his contemplation clicked.

“So what I’m hearing is that it wouldn’t be terribly untoward, all things considered, if I fucked you in his bed?”

You gasped at his ugly words, even as they sent a shudder straight to your core. His responding smile was a wicked thing, dripping with dark promise. 

 “I saw how you looked at me this evening.” He dipped his head to speak lowly in your ear. “You were practically begging for this.” 

His lips brushed the sensitive shell of your ear as he sat back. Your breaths were dangerously uneven now, your heart was in a riot under your ribs. He looked intimidating above you, the firelight painting him in aggressive shades of crimson. Yet his eyes were like syrup, enticing amber pools oozing with arousal. Dimly, you registered him set his drink aside. 

“What are you going to do about it?” you breathed, hardly trusting your voice. 

His hand came to cup your jaw roughly, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. 

“What would you have me do?” he countered.

“Kiss me.” 

At that, he launched forward to capture your face fully, his mouth meeting yours in a furious kiss. You tasted your husband’s best whiskey on his mouth, and you moaned sinfully at the flavor. He took the opportunity to explore your mouth with his warm tongue. His heady taste ignited a hunger low in your gut. He was unraveling you with precision, your teeth scraping against him messily. 

As he moaned your name, you grinned. You weren’t sure if he’d remember you, after all, but you’d certainly hoped. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he groaned against your mouth. 

“How long has it been?” 

“Centuries? At least,” he guessed. 

Memories flooded you, unbidden, as his rough jaw worked yours, your moans mingling in the hot room. 

He’d been fully grown the last time you’d seen him, of course, but somehow he seemed more mature now. 

It had been a brief encounter, but pleasurable, when you’d befriended the Illyrian ages ago, in the calamity of your youth. You’d never gotten too close to him, you doubted his brothers even knew about you. You were neither of each other’s firsts, but he was certainly a highlight in your sexual history, you now realized with chagrin.  

“You’ve made out well,” he said roguishly. 

“What?” you muttered, confused, before you saw how he was glancing around the place, noting the plush rugs and fine ornaments. “Oh, yeah. They managed to marry me off advantageously after all. It’s cushy,” you shrugged.  

“Impressive work,” he deadpanned. 

“Yeah, well we can’t all be blessed with ungodly strength and good looks.” 

You were shocked when he laughed at your playfulness. You couldn’t recall his grim face laughing, but as you saw it, it felt right on him. Perhaps you’d erased the image. Or maybe he was simply different now.

“Are you calling me handsome?” he flirted lowly, his lips brushing your cheek, as he grinned mischievously. 

“I’m not going to be calling you anything if you keep sitting on your ass! I heard you were watching me all night, and I asked you to do something about it,” you huffed. You were floored that he’d noticed you, that he’d remembered you. 

He growled and kissed you again quickly before pulling you up. You went to lead him to your bedroom, but you didn't make it very far before he had your back pressed against the wall. His kiss was bruising, like he couldn’t believe it was really you, and he needed to make sure. It was a strange sensation, to have an unrecognized dream be realized so viscerally, to be entangled with him again.

Only when your lungs were screaming for air did he pull back; he was as insatiable as you remember. Your breaths came in heavy pants as he held you firmly against the wall of your husband’s living room. 

His leg pressed into your clothed center, and you whined noisily at the contact. His pupils dilated, and he pressed his leg more firmly against your core. Your hands tangled in his hair, and you tugged tightly at his scalp as you felt the pressure right where you needed it. 

“If you do that, I'm going to finish right here,” he growled. His words only thickened the pulse that was building low in your abdomen. 

Effortlessly, he removed your hands from his sensitive scalp and pinned them above your head with his shadows. The position pressed you close to his chest, trapped by his firm body. Your breasts brushed his front, the contact riveting.

He softened his harsh actions by placing warm open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. It was torturous, his teeth scraping over your pulse point.  

“Now,” he purred, “are you going to be a good girl and do as I say?” 

At the moment, you couldn’t imagine doing anything other than his bidding, entranced as you were by his actions. 

“Yes,” you promised. 

“I knew you were smart. On your knees for me, angel.”

He released your hip with a gentle tap. You slid down the wall, your arms still bound above you. He caught your wrists as you kneeled, using them to press you against the wall with one hand. The position wasn’t comfortable, but you paid no mind as you made eye contact with his straining leathers.

You leaned forward to nuzzle the outline of his cock beneath his clothes, mouthing over his tip. He shuddered, his fist tightening on your wrist. 

“Please,” you slurred into him. Your lips continued working along his clothed member.

“Fuck. Listen to you beg for it,” he groaned, his pelvis shifting towards your face involuntarily. He deftly undid his belt, popping it open with one hand. The action was erotic. His nimble fingers made quick work of his leathers. 

When he finally uncovered himself, you moaned at the sight. Consistent with the rest of his anatomy, he was impressive. 

A particularly thick vein had your mouth watering in anticipation. You parted your lips, your tongue falling open, ready for him. He was pretty, and you loved to take pretty things and make them your own. 

He eased his thick head onto your waiting tongue, and groaned deeply at the contact. Your warm mouth was an instant ease to the tension in his head, replacing its pain with a delicious coil in his abdomen. His wings shivered, falling limp as you took him deeper.

His taste was intoxicating, salty and thick. You breathed through your nose, looking up at him through your lashes as you drooled around his girth. One of his hands was braced against the wall, his expression simmering with torment. As your watery eyes met, he moaned at the sight of you crouched under him in your gloriously disheveled state. 

“Fuck, look at you taking me so well. Right where he could walk in and see,” Azriel sighed. 

Your eyes widened at his words. Your cunt throbbed at his obscene comments and you whined. 

“Do you like that? Being such a slut for me?” he laughed, the sound thick with need. 

He moaned again as you began to tongue his length. You traced his thick veins generously before you began to bob your head. Your pulse felt heavy under the pressure of his grip on your hands, pinned to the wall. His hips stuttered as you found a rhythm with your mouth. 

When you pulled off a bit to give special attention to his weeping tip, sucking gently, his free hand came to hold your hair. He shushed your startled noises as he pressed you further onto him. You frantically swallowed, choking as he forced himself down your throat. He held you there for a moment before he began to pump himself into your mouth. 

Gagging at his size, you breathed through your nose in time with his slow thrusts. He groaned, the noise landing painfully in your soaked core. You whined, and the vibration around his girth made him hiss. 

“You look fucking divine on your knees like this,” he praised haltingly. “Doing so well, angel.” 

If your mouth wasn’t occupied, you would have told him how divine he looked too. Even fully dressed, with just his fly popped open, he looked like a walking vice, every inch an indulgence. His hair was tousled from where you’d raked your fingers through it, and his expression was just as unkempt. The labored look on his face was beautiful, even as the pleasure was so depraved. 

He was a practical stranger, and you were sucking him off in your husband's hallway. The priceless carpets would be soaked by the time you were through. 

You relaxed your jaw further, trying to take more of him down your throat. One erratic movement, and your teeth scraped his shaft lightly. 

He hissed, pulling you off of him abruptly. 

“Shit,” he panted. He didn’t sound mad, yet he looked fierce with a sick appetite.  

You tongued his flushed head, apologetic. “Let me finish, I can do it,” you rasped. 

“I know you can, baby,” he assured you, “Fuck, trust me, I know.”

You attempted to lean in for him again, and cried when he held you back. You looked up at him, tears streaking your cheeks. He ran a thumb under your eyes before pressing his thumb to your lips. You sucked him in eagerly, sighing at the slight gratification, teething brattily at his fingernail. His abdomen spasmed at the sight of you so worked up over tasting him. 

“Did my cock make you stupid?” he cooed. “No need to beg, baby, I’ve got other plans for us.”

He pulled you up, kissing you languidly as you pressed against him. Your hip dug into his arousal, sending fresh pleasure through him. He licked the spit from your jaw, moaning at the pure eroticism.

“Want to show me your bed, baby? I promise I'll make it worth your while,” he touted, and his eyes shone deliciously with depravity. 

You grabbed his hand and pulled him along into your lavish bedroom. When you arrived, you twirled around dramatically to gesture at the room, ever the tasteful hostess. 

“As promised…” you present the intimate room. The sapphires on your favorite hand mirror winked at you from your nightstand as you led him towards the silk cushions. 

He hummed in appreciation, pausing to pretend to take in the interior. You blushed, even though you had nothing to hide. Suddenly, you felt vulnerable having him here. 

Finally, his eyes fell to you standing in invitation before him, next to your bed, which was perfectly built for two. His sensual stare sent a rush through you, reigniting your excitement at the delicious affair.  

He brought his hand to brush your hair back, grasping at your scalp. The agonizing male pulled you towards him. His kiss was relaxed this time, his hot tongue meeting yours in a gentle caress. His other hand skimmed your side, exploring from your waist to your hip with infuriatingly gentle motions. 

For a moment, you allowed yourself to enter a daydream: that this was your life. You imagined that his strong, steadying grip was a real embrace. Maybe you’d have stumbled home together after another horrible event, and the whole way you’d both have mocked the ridiculous room full of ridiculous people until they were nothing but a ridiculous memory. He would kiss away the dullness until your soul was brilliant and shining again. 

Suddenly, you were horrified to feel your eyes thickening with tears. 

“Don’t be gentle with me,” you urged him. 

“Need me that badly?” he tried to tease, but his voice was thick with lust. When he reconnected your mouths, his grip was crushing, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in his desperation. 

Despite your wet eyes, you hadn’t really been sad. You’d been empty, absent from your own life. You didn’t need his pity. You needed his fire, a living coal to stoke your own with. 

Here you were in all your wealth, trapped, and embarrassed by your barren, threadbare life. Not even sheets of the highest thread count could cover the rags and shambles of your existence. You were ravenous, you realized, for something to make you feel alive. 

And here Azriel was, like a vision from a different lifetime, kissing you senseless like it was his secret mission all along. 

“I’ve been waiting to do this all night,” he murmured against you. Before you could question his meaning, he was slipping the straps of your dress down your shoulders, his mouth following to taste your freshly exposed skin. 

As your dress pooled around your feet, his growl filled the room with pitch black energy. As his eyes darkened at your nude form, you thanked the Mother that you’d foregone undergarments. 

“Did you know? Did you know that I was going to be there tonight when you put this on?” he breathed, teasing sensually.  

You debated lying, but thought better of it. “No,” you confessed. 

He whistled shortly, “I’m just that lucky.”

He grinned at you before attaching his mouth to your naked flash, his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh of your nipple. 

“You’re perfect,” he remarked between sloppy kisses to your chest. 

You flushed impossibly, floored by his attentions. His soft mouth was expertly working your tits, biting lightly and harshly licking, while his rough hands explored your backside. It felt dangerously like worship, even as he consumed you for his own satisfaction. The ecstasy was twisted; you’d had no idea he was even in your city when you’d dressed for the dreaded evening out with your husband. 

“On the bed,” he commanded, spit shining on his chin when he rose finally from your chest.

You fell back against it, shamelessly watching as he unfastened the straps of his leathers in a torturous spectacle. 

“You’re gorgeous,” you whispered, half to yourself. His wings twitched at that. Pride surged through him as he finally removed the last of his clothing, easy work courtesy of his hastily redone pants. His thick cock slapped to attention at his stomach. Your chest was rising rapidly from your position against the pillows. You looked so comfortable, so enticing. 

“You’re one to talk,” he flirted. You reached for him, intending him to join you. Instead he sat on the edge of the cushion, tantalizingly out of reach. 

“Can you keep your hands to yourself?”

No, you thought. 

“Yes,” you lied aloud. 

His eyes narrowed. Shadows crept from his shoulders to slither up your form. You shivered at their featherlight touch caressing your form. 

When you moved your hand to play with them, you gasped, finding your limbs restrained again under their power. Your arms were above your head, and your legs spread open under you. 

“That’s what you get for lying," Azriel shared sympathetically, as if he wasn’t the one controlling them. You pouted and he clucked placatingly, his hand caressing your ankle. Was he ever going to let you touch him? 

“Come here,” he cooed. He pulled you roughly onto his lap, so you were straddling one of his thick thighs. He kept your hands secured behind your back while his came to grip your hips, steadying you. 

You whined as he flexed his rigid muscles under you. Sweat was already forming a thin sheen across your boiling flesh.

“You didn’t listen, and then you lied,” he listed. “You’re lucky I'm feeling generous tonight, I'm going to let you get yourself off here.”

Your jaw fell open at his words. What? Did he expect you to fuck yourself on his thigh? 

“Well?” he prompted. 

His hand gripping your hip moved to squeeze the flesh of your ass impatiently. Yet you didn’t move, testing him. You weren’t used to this, not getting what you wanted. 

A crack rang through the room as he smacked your ass. You moaned at the sudden contact, pain flaring along with a sudden sense of urgency. Your hips started to move, slowly at first, then with more vigor as you gained the confidence to seek some friction. 

“That’s it, good girl,” he cooed. 

He watched you through heavy eyelids, your breasts bouncing right in his line of sight. When you glanced at his crotch, you saw the evidence of his desire prominently straining against his toned abs. It only fueled your fervor to see how you affected him. 

You looked so fucked out above him, circling your hips desperately on his muscular thigh. His huge hands were secure on your waist to steady you, but he wasn’t actually helping. You grew frustrated, desperate for stimulation, the pressure not nearly enough to soothe the throbbing ache between your legs. 

“Az, please.”

“Hmm?”

“Please touch me,” you begged.

He obliged, but again, not as you’d hoped. His tongue traced swirling patterns over your breasts, and one hand came up to palm them. The touch was maddening, only heightening your sensitivity. Your pussy was soaking his thigh, yet only his gaze deigned to touch your undulating hips. 

“Not there,” you complained in a huff. It was infuriating to be clenching around empty space. 

When he finally brought his rough fingers to your clit, you cried out in relief. Your hips stuttered as he rubbed tight circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Sweat dripped down your spine, muscles in your shoulders and thighs straining as you chased your bliss. Your moans crested as he pressed his textured fingers harshly against you. Right when your release was about to shatter you – his hands abruptly pulled away, forcing you to still your hips. 

“Did I say you could come?” 

His fingers left your form as he growled. You gasped, red faced and panting. The look on his face was predatory, lit with brazen lust. 

“On the floor, on your knees.” 

Dizzy with the broken orgasm, you obeyed awkwardly, his shadows still constricting your hands. The floor bit into your knees, the sting was a jarring sensation in contrast with the arousal that was dripping between your thighs. Despite your discomfort, you were determined to finish what you’d started earlier in the hallway. 

When you leaned in to take his cock into your mouth, he gripped your throat roughly. Your mouth opened on reflex, but he held you there, just out of reach. 

His other hand came to tug heavy strokes at his cock, right in front of your face. He moaned savagely, fixated on the sight of you slick and naked below him. Your back arched at nothing, frantically searching for some friction. 

He looked like a god above you, his shadows swirling deliciously along his powerful form, his wings shaking with pleasure. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and stuck to his sweat-dampened forehead as he panted and pumped himself. 

“I thought you said you were going to fuck me?” you said hoarsely, desperate. 

You saw the challenge land when his molten eyes sharpened. His hand stilled. 

“I don’t remember you being such a brat,” he growled, but his eyes gleamed wickedly. 

He pulled you up for a kiss, his hands coming to play with your ass, massaging viciously. The dull ache between your legs throbbed at his hot touch. 

“And I don’t remember you being such an ass,” you retorted, but your words lacked any real vitriol, eager as you were for his touch. He sensed it, and let your bratty words slide.

“I've missed that mouth almost as much as your tight pussy,” he purred devilishly, unfazed. 

He must have meant it too, since two of his thick digits trailed between your legs while he spoke. There was a gleam in his eyes as he felt your slickness, and it wasn’t humility. 

“So wet, baby,” he muttered. “All this for me?” 

You whined and leaned into his shoulder, shuddering at the teasing stroke. His shadows slipped away from your wrists, leaving no discomfort save for your sore tendons. 

Azriel tapped your ass once, his assured satisfaction putting him in a good humor. 

“Up on the bed for me, angel,” he directed.

His command sent a shiver down your sweat chilled spine, the anticipation heating your skin. You mounted the bed, and he positioned you on your stomach. He pulled a pillow under your hips, kissing your shoulder tenderly. You shook with nerves. Your arousal was seeping down your legs. You’d been waiting for this since you’d seen his unmistakable physique striding through the crowd. 

“That comfortable?” he asked, some care peaking through the haze of his lust.

“Yeah, that’s great.”

“Okay,” he said. “Let me know if I’m being too rough, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly, pressing your chest to the cushions to ease your ass back against him. The towering male ignored your spurring move, instead he pulled you up to your knees for a kiss. 

You couldn’t be mad at him as he captured your lips so tenderly, even as he was unwilling to give you a moment of control. Your body was pulsing with a delicious heat, pressed against his chest, tasting spice and earth on his tongue. 

The Illyrian’s soft lips were depraved, practically sucking at your teeth. His ferocity left you lightheaded, you were helpless under his power. His hard need against your lower back brought your mind to the matter at hand.

“Too scared to fuck me, huh, Az?” you taunted. 

He bit your lip, snarling as you pressed your ass against his throbbing length. 

“This your first time?” you mocked. 

Azriel let out a humorless laugh at that. 

“You’re trouble,” he hissed, grinding his cock against your lower back. You whined at the fiery contact, so close but so far from what you needed. 

“You like trouble,” you grinned.

“I do,” he agreed.

With one last searing kiss, he pushed your shoulders down so that you came to rest on your forearms. He draped your legs over his thighs. The dips between your legs and pelvis burned as he brought your hips up to meet him where he kneeled. 

He dragged his cock along your soaked folds, teasing you. He groaned deeply, the sound landing in your abdomen. Without warning he slammed into you. You bit the pillow deliriously to stifle your moan as he cursed. 

“Shit. I forgot how perfect you were for me, baby,” he purred as you adjusted. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you cried. 

He responded with another groan, and pulled out near fully to ram into you again. You clenched around him involuntarily. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, “you’re gripping me like…” he trailed off into another deep groan, the sound vibrating like a shock through your flesh.

“Faster, Az,” you gasped. 

Something in him snapped when you cried his name. The male began to pound you without restraint. His hands on your hips were sure to leave bruises, but you were far beyond care. His pace was relentless, gone berserk in his lust. His shadows leapt out, suddenly larger than life. The tendrils of shadow felt acutely like an audience, even pressed into the cushions you felt the heat of their attention. 

“That's it, baby,” he growled. His praise made your flesh rise, a whine pitching from your heaving throat. 

“Does he make you feel this good?” The question surprised you, as did the crooked thrill it sent through your teeth. 

“No,” you confessed with a sigh. His resounding gasp died in a strangled moan as you clenched around him at his perverted words. Served him right, you thought, as he destroyed your insides. 

“Say my name,” he commanded suddenly. 

“Azriel!” You barely managed to voice it as you moaned wildly. 

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” he taunted. “I want the whole city to know.”

You screamed his name as he pushed into you with a particularly punishing thrust. His cock scraped your walls agonizingly. It was addicting how he filled you so perfectly. 

His hand came to press up on your lower stomach, and he groaned at the feeling of his cock filling your guts. The pressure had you bucking your hips onto him, chasing the feeling. 

“Look at that,” he murmured, and you weren’t even sure if he intended you to hear. “You’re taking me so well.”

Long gone was the reserved male from the event this evening. He had been replaced by an insatiable double, just as dark but deliciously unrestrained.

The pillow beneath you was a useless anchor amidst the crashing waves of pleasure. Even with your eyes squeezed shut, your senses were a riot. The room filled with your tandem grunts and moans, and the scent of your sex laced the thick air. You felt his mouth on your spine, heat unfurling down your back, and your bones went unstrung under his hot touch. 

The ache in your abdomen had erupted into an ecstatic pulse. Your pleasure mounted as the shadowsinger’s moans became breathier. His hips began to stutter, yet his pace was punishing as ever. He brought two thick fingers to rub fast circles on your throbbing clit as he hurtled towards his release.

“I’m gonna come,” he warned with a salacious whine.

He pulsed inside of you as his thrusts stilled abruptly. You couldn’t help but turn your head and watch as he came undone. It was as satisfying as your own bliss to witness his. 

His eyes were shut tight in ecstasy while the rest of him slackened, his back arching involuntarily as he convulsed. You’d never seen something so jaw achingly erotic in all your days.

Amidst his orgasm, his coarse fingertips never paused their assault against your heat. You arched back onto him, the feeling of his aching member sending you into oblivion. The pressure of his expert hands paired with the erotic sight of him drunk off your core had your release shattering over you. 

The waves of bliss that had been cresting slowly all evening crashed over you all at once in an undeniable blow. It had your body tensing and loosening all at once, your nerves on fire. He worked you through it as you cried, trembling beneath him. 

When your fists eventually unclenched from the sheets, he came to an inevitable halt. He pulled out gingerly, mindful of your present state of hyper sensitivity.  

He kissed your shoulder as he turned you over. He checked you for any damage, just like you were a comrade fallen in battle. You were utterly spent, but unharmed. The exhaustion was gratifying, a welcome ache from an evening much enjoyed.

“That was bliss,” you told him.

“Top shelf, for sure,” Azriel agreed, eyes still dancing over your naked form like he was committing it to memory. 

His face was pleasantly unguarded as he spoke. Something suspiciously like a smile played on his swollen lips. The spymaster’s features were surprisingly easy, decompressed as he was in the aftermath of such cataclysmic delight. 

You had been the perfect diversion for him, and he for you. True to form, he didn’t idle with you as you lounged, fully drained, in your rumpled sheets.

Azriel dressed efficiently, which is to say that you weren't yet prepared for his stunning body to disappear under his clothes, not so quickly. That was the thing about indulging a vice, these things were never meant to linger. 

He stood next to your bed, suddenly assuming an air of professionalism, like you hadn’t just been screaming his name. 

“If I'm ever in town again…” he began, tentatively.

“I’ll be here,” you laughed. You meant it humorously, but the words rang hollow in the empty air. 

“Good,” he noted with satisfaction. 

His words weren’t quite a promise. Still, the meager sentiment had something almost like hope flaring in your sunken chest. Darkness was wrapping itself thickly around his form, like he was gathering his things to leave. 

He kissed you once more, slowly, as if he was memorizing the feeling of your mouth on his. And then he was gone, taking his shadows with him. 

The sudden light of the room hurt your eyes. You blinked away the tears, swallowing the horror that rose at their arrival, bitter as bile. You sniffed once before snapping to work. 

Within a few minutes, you’d erased every trace of your charmed evening. 

The shadowinger hadn't left so much as a hair as a sign of his presence, and even the bed was cold again by the time you crawled under fresh sheets. Sleep came mercifully quick, surrendering you to a world of dreams. 

✸✸✸

The next night, your husband was gone again, his dinner untouched on the long table where you'd carefully laid his place at the head. 

Usually, on nights like these, you would relish the freedom of the empty home and set a fire in the hearth. It was a frivolous excess, but so was most of your life. 

The fire was part of a game you played, where you would picture everything you hated, everything and everyone you wanted to see burn. Some nights, it soothed you to picture it, your personal apocalypse. Other nights, the warm flame felt like an insult, its wagging tongues mocking your petty, helpless game. Nights like those were the worst, the void more humiliating than any offense. They left you feeling vapid, foolish. 

Tonight however, instead of your customary game at the hearth, you found yourself sitting alone in the wide expanse of your bed. You’d lit a solitary candle; not to banish the darkness, but to invite the soft shadows it spread. Their quiet company was a cold comfort to your heart, where a fragile, unfamiliar flame was just flickering to life. 

_

A/N: Thanks for reading :) I can't for the life of me write a one shot so this might have to become a blurb-y little series of an unpredictable and torturous affair. Who better to have as an affair partner than this sexy spy? He’s big dicked and discreet– everything you need ... Re: ‘Scotty Doesn’t Know’ – "I did her on his birthday" is the *coldest* line and I feel like Azriel is a little shit on the down low and would get off on that... If you have scenarios in mind for future episodes, please send them my way ;) 

Let me know what we think! And did the last sex position make sense?? I was struggling to explain it.

Next part

[lvebug]

"okay, i'm gonna..." the silk in her palm seems like nothing more than tissue paper when against a dragon's wound. it had been easy to talk, to assure him that she could help. now that she's faced with the size of it—his leg alone bigger than she is—andie feels woefully, inadequately human.

aranea is not a magical kingdom. they are adjacent to it, have magic blowing in on winds to the west and woven into the fabrics of their clothing, but there are few in aranea who actually possess magic. and none who are native to the land.   "i don't know any magic,"   her voice is small and quite, unsure. she presses the cloth tighter against his wound and it turns—like unfortunate magic—from pink to a deep, dark red. "can you—?" do magic? she wants to ask, but the question doesn't need an answer: if he could, he would have already. the cloth shifts under her palm as she tries to adjust to a drier section of fabric. the blood spreads so dauntingly fast.

like every bit of fabric in andie's wardrobe, magic is woven into the fabric of the garment. her skirts always fall just so, and fit just right at her hips, the hem never gets dirty no maker how filthy the ground it drags across. araneans are weavers and the magic may not be theirs, but the know how to work with it. something stirs now in the air and in the fabric pressed against this creature; maybe from his magic—like recognizing like—or maybe just andie's hope and sharp-bright panic being enough to fuel whatever exists within the cloth. there's no frame of reference for her for what's happening and it's all she can do to stare in awe, mouth falling agape, as the blood slows. at first she things it's just her imagination, the feeling of the fabric changing with the weight of blood, something, but the feeling she's feeling isn't just wetness. there's a tingling like ants running across her palms.

it feels like the most amount of effort that she's ever spared in the world to look away from her hands and the cloth under them and the wound still under that, but with that tremendous effort she looks away and towards the rest of the dragon. has anything changed? "something's happening? is that—? are you doing that?"

There is little that can stop what a dragon's natural healing will not, given time... but at the moment time is what they do not have, and Harry does not have it in him to scare her, to push her away. He has made his peace with it, and all he needs is to be able to leave, when his injury is too heavy for him to fly away and much less to turn back into a much more comfortable form.

Were the situation another, he thinks, as he forces himself to focus on something that is not the worry and the concern and the way the brief warmth of her hand is a touch he will not be forgetting anytime soon, well, he would mourn the dress. He does not, not now, because he understands the need of it despite appearances.

"My hind leg." He settles on, raising the wing he has kept covering the wound, far more instinct than clear thought. "The one closest to you."

And it's a gnarly affair, and he cannot twist enough to tend to it, and even if he could he is a green dragon, he is poison made flesh. He does not have the fire to sear a wound like that.

"Magic might do more than bandages." He considers, voice low and deep and a rumble that he sends directly to her mind, with a gentleness that belies the pain he's in, and his worries that he might harm her by accident, in a moment of pain.

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - three (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. two (section 1); (section two) | three | four | series masterlist 🔗read on ao3 ✨across stardust pinterest board

note: thank you for all the warm notes on part two!! part three is fluffy, smutty, angsty, and full of plot so please enjoy. parts four and five are in the works, but tbd on post date.

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, suggestive language, anxiety, nightmare, almost panic attack/talk of panic attack, frank conversations around sexual history / bad sexual relationships that could be triggering for some readers, oral m receiving, extremely descriptive blowjob / throat fucking, messy/desperate sex, emotional sex, creampie, rough sex, fights/arguments and heavy language

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 12.6k

It’s still dark when you wake up on the third day, the sky still inky black, but when you open your eyes you’re pushed right into consciousness like it’s time to get up and get your day started. When you shift your hand back to find him, the bed is cold. You take a breath and listen to your apartment, but everything is painfully silent.

A sharp spike of alarm courses through your chest at the thought that Yunho might not be here, but the panic only lasts for a moment. 

“I’m downstairs,” Yunho calls softly, “don’t worry,” 

You drop back in the bedding with a sigh of relief, but when you catch sight of the clock reading three in the morning you can’t help but worry about him. 

“Baby,” You say as you roll to the edge of the bed, “What are you doing up?” 

He sighs, “I can’t sleep,” 

“I got that,” You tie your robe around your body and head toward the stairs, “is something wrong? You’re just sitting down here in the dark,”

He doesn’t have his phone in hand and the lights are still low, and he scrubs a hand over his eyes before looking up at you as you descend the stairs, “Just thinking,” 

“About?” You step closer, trying to see his face in the dark, the room only partially illuminated by city lights.

He reaches for you and you take his hand, letting him pull you in close to stand between his open legs.  With another heavy sigh, Yunho wraps his arms around you and lets his forehead drop into your stomach. 

You squeak at the sudden way he gathers you up, but once you’re steady on your feet you soften, and let your hands drop, one on his shoulder and the other threading into his hair. You card your fingers through his locks slowly and search yourself for the thread of his feelings, but all you can pick up on is anxiety. “Hey,” You murmur, “what’s wrong?” 

His fingers tighten on the silk of your robe, “I don’t want to leave,” he confesses quietly. 

“Oh, Yunho,” 

He’s quiet, too quiet, and a second stretches into a minute while he holds you, but you feel the rising tension in him almost like it’s in the air around you. 

“How do we do this?” He finally says, his face still buried in your abdomen, “How do we have both? I feel like I’m abandoning you if I leave, I feel like, it feels like,” 

You feel the tide of panic and you hush him softly, “Baby, breathe,” 

He grips your hips, his forehead digging into your stomach, “I had a t-terrible dream,” 

“Shh,” You rub a hand up and down his back, holding him close to you, “it was just a dream,” 

“I don’t,” He swallows, shaking his head, “what if it wasn’t, what if,” 

“Breathe,” 

“They took you away,” He drags in a harsh breath, “they took you and I couldn’t find you, and everyone was watching but no one was fucking doing anything, and I couldn’t feel you anymore, and,” 

You catch the shadow of an image in his mind, a silent stadium full of onlookers while he ran row to row searching for you, his throat hoarse from screaming, every expression blank and disinterested around him. 

You shiver, tightening your hold on him as he sucks in another sharp breath. 

He’s one wrong thought away from a panic attack, and you tuck your fingers under his chin to drag his head up, “Yun, Yunho, look at me,” 

His breath is fast, dysregulated, his expression stressed in a way you’ve never seen, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” 

“Shh,” You cup his cheeks, soothing him as best you can, “I’m right here, no one did anything to me,” 

“It felt so real,” 

“It wasn’t,” 

“But it could be,” His chest aches, “I can’t lose you like that, they can’t take you away like that,” 

“Baby, who’s they?” You murmur, your thumb stroking a line over his jaw. 

“I don’t know,” He says in a rush, “but you were at the dorms with me and we were asleep and they pulled you out of bed, they took you, and you were gone before I… I couldn’t even see where they,” 

His panic tightens again and you shake your head, “No, no, no,” you murmur, “look at me, take a deep breath.” 

He drags in a ragged breath along with you and you pause before slowly letting the air out. 

“I am right here,” You run your hands down his arms to get him to hold you closer, “it was just a bad dream.” 

“But,” He manages, and then lets out another shaky breath, his eyes dropping away from your face.

”No,” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and card your fingers through his hair, “don’t let those thoughts in,” 

He holds steady, his chest tight but starting to loosen with every slow breath. You model it for him, bringing him along with you into the breathing exercise, and then finally he nods just a little, “I’ve never felt like this,” 

“Tell me,” You murmur, softly stroking his shaggy hair at the base of his neck. 

He swallows, his throat bobbing, and then a confession, “I’m terrified,” he says hoarsely, “I love you more than I ever,” 

His words die on his lips and you murmur your reply softly, “I love you too,” 

With a breath he continues, the words spilling out now, “And I’m just supposed to put it away?” His hands tighten on you, “I’m supposed to pretend you’re just someone? And not be with you when you need me, not be,” he shakes his head, “how is any of that fair to you, or what you deserve?” 

“Yunho,” You say softly. 

“I shouldn’t even,” He looks down, shaking his head in what you can only read as disappointment in himself, “I’m sorry, I didn’t sleep well, it’s fine. Everything’s fine.” 

You can feel him boxing it up, shoving his emotions and his panic down, putting on a brave face you never asked for.

“Hey,” You say, a little more sharply than you intended and his head snaps up, “don’t do that with me, don’t pretend.” 

He sighs, “it’s just,” he tries, and you can see the exhaustion in his face, “I told you I would figure it out, I promised you,” 

Whatever arcane concept of masculinity has him trying to shield his stress from you ends tonight, and you shake your head to get him to stop going down this path. 

“Alright,” You say when he falls silent, your hands on his cheeks to keep his eyes on you, “let’s play worst case scenario,” 

His brows draw together, “What?” 

“Hana and I played it all the time when things got bad,” You tell him, “you tell me the worst case scenario for the thing you’re anxious about,” 

“This is a game?”

”Just trust me,” 

He sighs and squeezes your hips before letting his hands fall slack to his own thighs, “Um,” he says, “okay, worst case scenario,” 

“Do your worst, really,” You nudge him. 

He shoots you a mildly amused expression and then rubs a hand over his face, reality sinking back into him, “Worst case?” He starts off, “We get found out, you get fired, I get fired, I owe thousands of dollars back to the company, the public hates us, and we’re both unemployable pariahs who’s friends don’t even speak to us anymore because they’re all in the industry.” 

“Jesus,” You laugh sharply at the intensity, the near absurdity of having this conversation with him at all, but then you recover.

 “Is that supposed to help?” 

“Shush,” You lay your fingers gently over his lips to keep him quiet, “now listen to me,” 

He nods and you let your hand fall away.

“If I get fired and you get fired and you owe all that money back,” You start with the first thing, “we will still have each other. Our families love us, I have this apartment and I have some money saved, and we won’t be unemployable because I have skills and so do you. I’ll do makeup for dramas or photoshoots or make YouTube videos for all I care, KQ is not the end of the line for me and my work. And you have your dancing, your vocals. If you weren’t an idol, what would you do?” 

“Teach, maybe,” He says quickly, “I’ve thought about that, if things don’t work after year seven,” 

“So not unemployable pariahs, just different jobs,” You point out. 

He stays quiet at that, mulling over your words.

”And our friends would not do that,” You add, “they love us. Do you think they’re that shallow?” 

He sighs, “No, but,” 

“No,” You shake your head, “your worst case scenario sucks, it would be really, really hard, but it wouldn't kill us. It wouldn’t break us up.” 

Yunho nods, “I know, but is it really so bad that I don’t want that for us? That I’m scared I’ll fail at this and you,” 

“Hey,” You draw his arms back up to touch you, wrapping yours around his shoulders, “baby, this is not on your shoulders alone, it is not your job to figure out our relationship.”

”If I wasn’t an idol,” He starts. 

“You are an idol,” You shake your head, “but if you weren’t an idol we might have never met. Don’t play what ifs like that,” 

“y/n,” Yunho sighs.

“Yunho,” You counter, emphasizing his name and trying to get him to snap out of this spiral, “when I said I knew what being with you meant, I meant all of it. I’m under no illusions that this will be normal or easy, and I’m ready to face that for a chance that we could be happy.” 

“Of course we’ll be happy,” He softens. 

“Hold onto that, then,” You stroke his cheek, “and when you forget it or when you have a bad dream, I’ll remind you of it.” 

“We’ll be okay,” He murmurs.

You nod, “We will,” 

He sighs, dropping his forehead against your stomach again and you feel the tension physically drop in his shoulders, “Thank you,” he murmurs. 

“I’m here,” You remind him again, gently running your fingers through his hair. For a moment you wonder if he ever lets anyone see this part of him, the anxiety and the worry and the strain. Yunho is always so calm, positive, and easy-going that you imagine it’s easy for people to gloss over what he must be feeling most of the time. 

He nods against you but stays quiet. 

“I don’t want you to go either,” You murmur, “but we are going to stick to the plan, and someday this will just be a thing that we had to do,” 

He nods, letting out a slow exhale. 

The plan was simple, and worked out between frantic moments of need in every corner of your apartment. For a little while, you’d both keep this to yourselves and play as coworkers, in the fall once contracts were closer to the final year, you’d tell the members together and Yunho would ask for an early renegotiation and for all of the members to stand beside him. After pulling the problem apart from every angle, it’s the only way that makes sense. 

“It does suck though,” You add, “we don’t have to pretend it doesn’t,” 

He laughs, a hot breath of air against you, before he looks up, “It sucks.” He says definitively. 

“How long do we have left?” You glance at the clock in your kitchen. 

He follows your eyes, looking around your hip, “A few more hours,” 

Your hands tense on his shoulders. 

Yunho nods, “I know,” 

You don’t want to make him feel worse so you bite your tongue from saying anything else.

Yunho sits up a little, his hands now sliding to anchor on your hips, and his eyes flick from your eyes down your body. Your robe has parted open a little, just revealing a deeper V of flesh in the valley between your breasts and you feel the first strings of arousal through the bond. 

He squeezes your hips, and then he leans forwards to connect his lips to your soulmark. 

You hum softly, holding him close, “I love you,” you murmur. 

You feel a tug on your robe, and suddenly he’s kissing you with more fervor, his lips traveling down to your belly as your robe parts open, his hands palming the bare flesh of your ass now that your body is exposed to him again. 

He needs you, and you need him, but you can still feel somewhere in his body that taut line of stress and you gently push him back, “Come here,” 

“Hmm?” He lets you push him away, but when you close your robe his brow furrows.

 “Take your sweats off,” You tug at the fabric, and he lifts his hips to push them off immediately, “now just relax,” 

He smiles, “What are you doing?” 

He’s reclined on your sofa in nothing but his boxer briefs, and your body thrums with want. 

“You’ve been taking care of me for days,” You drop down to your knees and settle yourself between his widely set thighs, “and you’re stressed, it’s my turn to return that favor,” 

You drag your hands up and down his thighs, fingertips ghosting along the seam of his boxers, and you watch his eyes go dark and hungry. 

Slowly, you tease him, gentle touches along every bit of his exposed skin until he’s sucking in little pleasured breaths and twitching under your hands, his cock rock hard and straining against his underwear. 

As you toy with the elastic waistband though, his large hand closes over yours, “W-wait, one second.” 

You know what you’ll see when you look up, concern, curiosity, maybe even pity over the thing you alluded to on your first night and never brought up again. 

When you finally do meet his eyes though, it’s different. 

He’s looking at you with tenderness, and he cups your cheek as you look up. 

”You want to know?” You ask softly, dropping back to your heels and letting your hands fall away from his thighs. 

“Only if you want me to know,” He offers, sweeping a thumb over your cheekbone before dropping his hands away, “but,”

The clear implication that could be read even without the bond is that he doesn’t feel like you can cross this line together without knowing. 

”I can tell you,” You say, “it’s not bad, I just didn’t want to bring up an ex on our first night together.” 

He nods, “Okay,” 

“I had a boyfriend in school,” You tell him, ignoring the tense little bubble in your gut at just the thought of him, “we dated for a while, he was fine, but we were both young and I didn’t have much experience with sex,” 

Yunho’s jaw tenses lightly, “Did he?” 

“A little,” You explain, “he had dated two girls before me, but we were both pretty young and stupid,” 

“Okay,” He manages, and you can tell that he’s bracing himself for whatever you have to tell him, but he reaches out a hand for you to take. 

You take it immediately, slotting your fingers together, and he gives you a small squeeze before you continue, “It was mostly fine, just kids having bad sex and pretending it was great,” you laugh, trying to lighten the tension but he doesn’t join you. 

“Baby,” He sits up a little, “what happened?” 

“Nothing,” You tell him, and that’s the truth. There’s no one moment, no axe of trauma to bring down and confess, it’s just a collection of things, disparate moments, and it’s almost always impossible to articulate why it’s affected you like this for all these years. 

His brows furrow lightly as he tries to make out your words and your feelings, and he opens his mouth to say more but you get there first.

”He was rough,” You finally sigh, “I think part of it was that’s what he thought sex was supposed to be like, and I didn’t know any better, so I just did my best to make him happy,” 

His free hand curls into a loose fist, but he nods for you to continue. 

“It was fine,” You assure him, try to explain, “he didn’t do anything wrong, I just didn’t know how to speak up for myself then, and just kind of went along,” 

“And oral?” He asks it plainly, almost medically. 

A flicker of your ex’s hand on the back of your neck flashes in your mind and you roll your shoulders, shifting your gaze, filing the thought back where it belongs in the deep recesses of your memory. 

Yunho waits for your answer, but watches every movement.

”That I think he actually liked rough,” You finally admit, your eyes studying the edge of your couch cushion, “and I didn’t like that. It, that was, it only happened a few times, but yeah,”

His thumb presses circles into your palm, and then he quietly speaks, “How old were you?” 

“Sixteen, seventeen,” 

“How old was he?” 

“The same age,” You look up to him, “it wasn’t like that.” 

He swallows tightly and nods, “Did you tell him to stop or that you didn’t want,” 

“No,” You take your hand out of his and rest your hands on his thighs, “Yunho, we were kids. We weren’t communicating at all, we were pretending we were adults and the only thing either one of us knew about sex was from porn. I thought I was supposed to like it, so I just let it happen. Was he kind of an asshole? Sure, but I’m fine, and it’s not like I said anything at the time,” 

His jaw ticks again, and then he slides his hands overtop of yours, “Maybe not,” he says softly, “but you shouldn't have had to. Guys aren’t idiots, we can tell when someone isn’t comfortable with something,” 

“I know,” 

“I can tell this is more than just something you don’t like,” His hands slide up your arms, “he really scared you,” 

You remember it all too well. The feeling of tears on your cheeks, the ache in your jaw, his hands in your hair, and the way you could only get tiny breaths in through your nose. Your throat had felt bruised for days after the last time you let him touch you. 

“Yeah,” Is all you can give him.

”Fuck,” He breathes, and you wonder if he felt any of that, if he can sense through the bond more than what you’ve said out loud, “I hate this guy,” 

“Yeah,” You smile, finally meeting his eyes, “I know, you and Hana can join forces and hate him together,” 

He smiles, but it’s close lipped and doesn’t reach his eyes, “Was he your first?” 

Your nose crinkles, “Unfortunately,” 

“I hate him,” His hands tense on your upper arms. 

“I know,” You sigh, “but yeah, it’s just one of those things.” 

He just looks at you, no answer for that.

”Everything has been perfect with us,” You continue, “and what I said the other night is true, I don’t do anything I don’t like anymore. I figured that out, but that’s the one thing, I just don’t like it and it does make me uncomfortable. If you don’t pull my hair during or get aggressive with it, I’m totally fine it’s just,” 

“Hold on,” He shifts on the couch, sliding forwards and letting his legs widen to make more space for you so he can pull you in, “now you take a breath.” 

Your mouth falls shut. 

“I wish you told me this before,” He says, cupping your cheek.

”Yunho,” You shake your head. 

“No, it’s okay,” He keeps going, “but I just want you to know that you and me, everything we do together, there is never, ever something I want you to just put up with because you think I need it or like it.” 

“I know that,” 

“Still,” He presses, “and I know you were both young, but baby, that's not a good enough excuse for me.” 

You take in a breath, ready to protest, but he’s not done. 

“We will never do something together without talking about it,” He continues, “especially something like that,” 

He’s so convicted, so serious, you can feel it through the bond and it makes your chest warm, even though he’s not letting you get a word in. 

“You should have had a way to say stop,” His eyes soften, “I hate that you had to feel that way, he should have,” 

“Yunho,” You reach up, taking his hands from your cheeks and holding them in yours, “I love you, and I love that you care for me like this, but I need you to hear something.” 

His brow furrows, but he waits. 

“It sucked,” You hold his gaze, “and it freaked me out, but it was not what you’re implying. I am not scared to give you a blowjob, and you do not need to treat me like glass because I had a shitty ex-boyfriend. I’ve already figured out my own limits, and you don’t need to protect me from something I’ve already handled,” 

His eyes drop and he swallows tightly. 

“I love you,” You remind him, “and I told you so that you’d hear my limits and understand them, but I already trust you to respect them.” 

He exhales, a slow breath between his teeth and he nods, “You’re right, I’m sorry,” 

“It’s okay,” You smile. 

He looks up and leans forward to press a kiss to your lips, and then another for good measure, “Alright,” he says, shaking off his protective instincts, “tell me your limits again, let me listen.” 

You kiss him back, giving his fingers a squeeze, “Okay,” you nod, “don’t pull my hair during, other times it’s fine,” 

“Outside of a blowjob?” He clarifies, his thumb passing over your lower lip once before he pulls his eyes up to yours and smiles softly. 

“Yeah,” You nod, “that’s fine, I just don’t like feeling stuck, like I can't take a breath if I want to,” 

“Hands off,” He says, “got it.”

“Well, I mean,” You start, but he interrupts.

 “Don’t worry about me,” He reminds you, “your mouth alone anywhere near my dick is going to kill me,” 

You huff a quick laugh and nod, “Then yeah, hands off,” 

“What else?” 

“We can work up to it, you actually fucking my mouth, but not yet,” You tell him, “I’m not ready to do that with you yet.” 

“Okay,” He smiles, “if that ever changes just tell me, but for now you’re in control.” 

“Also,” You blush a little, “I don’t think this will be a problem, but uh, no mean names or anything like that,” 

“Not my style,” He says, cupping your cheek and leaning forwards, “and I know you’re fine, and I know you don’t need me to, but I would seriously like to hit this asshole in the mouth,” 

You smile, leaning into his arms, “Fair enough,” 

“Come here,” He wraps his arms around you, kissing you softly, “thank you for telling me,” 

You nod into his kiss, your hands slipping back down to his thighs, “Now, let me take care of you,” 

He hesitates for just a second, but then he nods and pecks your lips. Leaning back, Yunho shows you his hands, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and then he tucks them both behind his lower back and settles into the couch, his thighs spreading wider as he settles into a comfortable position.

Your stomach flips pleasantly, heat pooling in your gut. 

Your fingers return to the elastic waistband of his underwear and you watch his abdominal muscles pulse as he tries to hold himself still. 

”You sure this is okay?” He checks one last time.

You smile up at him and nod, “It’s more than okay, I like it, so just relax.” 

He swallows, a nervous breath slipping out of him. 

Slowly, your hands return to his underwear. 

“God,” He sighs as you pull the front of his boxers down, letting his cock spring up between you, “you’re so pretty,” 

You smile a little, enjoying the relaxed neediness in his voice, and you rest back on your heels to look up at him, “Yeah?” 

His lips quirk, “Tease,”

”You like it,” You kiss his thigh, and then drag your nails along his stomach gently.

 Yunho groans, his cock stiffening even more.

”Should I stop?” You tease him again. 

“A-absolutely not,” He breathes. 

You smile against his skin, and hook your fingers in the elastic of his boxers to drag them down and off his legs entirely, shifting until they’re tossed to the side. You sidle up between his legs again, and take a second to admire the picture that is Jeong Yunho stripped bare on your couch. His skin is deliciously smooth, and all but glowing in the moonlight, muscles taut and his legs long, thighs thick, his cock solid and heavy, drawing you in like a magnet. 

“Cute,” He murmurs at your thirsty expression, but despite the hungry look in his own eyes, he keeps his hands tucked behind his back just like he showed you.

 You ignore his words, and drop your lips back down to his body. You pepper teasing kisses over his thighs, his hips, your hands exploring the plane of his abdomen, the very top of his pubic bone, exploratory touches, soft pleasure, but never landing on his cock. It twitches between you, but you ignore it, kissing the inner crease of his hip and the dusting of dark, coarse hair there, cropped short and tidy. You can just barely feel the start of a trail of hair from his pubic bone to his navel, likely waxed away before the tour but just starting to come in again like a five o’clock shadow. 

He twitches, tiny breaths, gasps, mumbled curses, and you hum pleasantly against his skin at every one. 

When you can feel his resolve starting to crumble, and see a thick pearl of precum starting to bead up on the tip of his cock, and you know he’s ready for more.

On one of your next kisses, you let your mouth linger a little longer, dragging your lips across his skin until you’re nestled at the base of his cock, your hand sliding up from his inner thigh to cup his tight balls. 

He shudders, a groan on his lips, “F-fuck, sweetheart,” 

“Mm,” You finally let your tongue peek out, dragging a wet line from base to tip, “feel good?” 

“So good,” He nods. 

When you look up to him and take in his expression your cunt pulses, his eyes are dark and starving, his plush lips parted in needy awe, and his chest is already flushed red, sweat snaking down the contours of his chest. 

You can’t make him wait a second more. 

You wet your lips, letting saliva pool on your tongue, and then you adjust your position on your knees and finally take him in your mouth properly.

 The sound he makes is one of pure pleasure, his body twitching beneath you, and you hear his hands tighten in the couch cushions behind him. 

He is big though, you weren’t lying when you told him he was the biggest cock you’d ever taken and that no doubt includes your mouth. Your lips are stretched wide, jaw open and nearly straining, clicking as you get it comfortably open for him enough to start to dip your head down. 

You focus first on the head, letting your hand wrap around the shaft that you haven’t figured out if you’ll be able to take, your tongue swirling over the velvety skin and lapping up the salty sweet taste of him.

 “y/n,” He moans properly, “oh my god,” 

You hum, a gentle laugh that leaves him jerking, and then you sink a little lower, your hand starting to pump slowly in time with the movements of your head.

”Oh, that’s it,” Yunho breathes, “oh fuck,” 

You shiver involuntarily at his praise. 

Yunho sucks in a breath, “C-can I talk to you? Is that okay?” 

Your chest warms and you pull off just long enough to give him a reply, “Yes, please, yes,” 

He groans as you return to his cock, lavishing as much attention on the parts you can fit in your mouth as you can. Yunho makes a pleasured noise as your tongue flicks over the seam where his shaft meets the rounded mushroom tip of his cockhead and he sighs, “Sweetheart, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” 

You hum, a gentle reply as you work him over.

”There you go,” His voice is tight, like he’s talking through gritted teeth, “oh, fuck, that’s my perfect girl,” 

You hum again, the praise running right through your body. 

“Yeah,” He sighs, adjusting his thighs a little wider, “does my cock on your tongue make you wet, babygirl?” 

Your fingers tighten on his thigh. 

“Fuck, it does, doesn’t it?” He groans, “Insatiable,” 

You suck in a sharp breath through your nose, dripping your mouth a little lower this time. 

“Three times last night wasn’t enough?” He teases you, warmth dripping from his voice, “You need more?” 

You nod, but don’t lose attention on his cock gliding back and forth over your tongue.

“Good girl,” He shudders, “fuck,” 

You lift away to take a fast breath and dive back in, keeping your ministrations steady with your hand.

He jerks and makes a tight sound, but then he sighs, “Look at me, baby,” he manages, “let me see that pretty fucking face,” 

Your nipples tighten, belly stumbling in warm fits and starts, and you slide back on your heels and let his cock slip free of your mouth as you look up at him.

 You can feel the urge in him to touch you, smooth your hair, touch your cheeks, have his hands on you in any way, but he holds himself still and locks his eyes on yours. 

“Gorgeous,” He sighs, “fuck if you could see yourself,” 

Warmth pools in your cheeks and you smile, letting his cock rest against your lips. Gently you press a kiss there, catching your breath in the brief pause. 

“Fuck,” He grits out, “is it bad if I tell you I want to come all over that face? Those fucking lips,” 

You sigh against him, shaking your head, “I like it,” 

His eyes roll, hips twitching, “Of course you do,” 

The moment his eyes leave you, you slide yourself back up, hot tongue dragging up and over and down until you’re taking more of him in your mouth than before. 

A tiny thread of anxiety pulls in your chest, but it relaxes within seconds. His hands haven’t moved, he’s fought every impulse of his hips, and all you feel through the bond is overwhelming pleasure, need, and pride. You’ve never, never felt safer.

You sink down further now, letting him slide back deep down until you feel the head of his cock pressing into the spongy part of your throat, your lips nearly to the base of him and pressed to his pubic bone. 

“S-shit, fuck,” His thighs twitch, but still he holds himself in place. 

You bob your head back up, teasing his shaft with the hard press of your tongue before sinking down again. 

“Ah, ah, mm,” You’ve never heard him sound like that, almost a whine. His teasing dominance falling to the wayside the moment you let yourself go to fully worship his cock.

Your hands tighten on his thighs and you repeat the motion, faster this time and sinking down far enough to take him all the way down your throat to the hilt. 

He whines again, but your throat tickles and you choke a little before lifting higher up, adjusting your position and managing your gag reflex. 

“You okay?” He’s breathless, “Hey, hey,” 

You lift free and glance up at him, “I’m fine, relax,” 

“God,” He shivers, “this is so good, but you don’t have to take it all the way if,” 

“Baby, shut up,” You sink your mouth back down on his cock, sliding your lips and tongue down until he’s buried to the hilt again. 

“Jesus f-fuck,” He moans, and when you glance up you can see his head has fallen back to the couch cushions. 

The urge to cough is there again, your jaw aching, but you tuck your thumb into your palm and squeeze it tight on the off chance that the old wives tale has any merit, and you center yourself. 

“Ah, mm, mm,” He’s fully trembling, at your mercy in a way that you know is raw and different for him, “sweetheart, oh, oh god,” 

You can do this, you want to do this. Especially if it means he’ll make that sound again. 

With another steady breath through your nose, you draw up and down and find a rhythm, working him faster until you’re bobbing your head and fighting through the little chokes, not because you have to but because you want to. You draw measured breaths of air in and out of your nose so you don’t lift your mouth away, and you let yourself go. 

He’s tense beneath you, slick and shaking, the taste of him salty and sharp but not in a way you want to pull away from at all. It’s messy, noisy, and wet in all the right ways, and you feel his pleasure start to gather and build in his gut. Your hands slide over him, one to brace yourself on his tense stomach, and the other reaching under to cup his balls again, firm and hot in your palm. 

”Fuck, fuck,” Yunho’s hips pull back at that, arching away from your mouth, “jagi, stop,” 

You whine a little, you knew you had him close, but you pull your mouth away and take a sharp suck of air, “W-why’d you stop me?” You ask, breathless. 

“Need to be inside you,” He pants, freeing his hands from behind his back and reaching for you, “right now,” 

He hooks his hands under your arms and pulls you up off the floor, crashing his mouth onto yours. You slide up his body, hastily opening your legs to straddle him as his hands move again, one locking onto your hip to steady you and the other frantically pushing your robe back open. You moan as he slides two fingers through your slit to check your wetness, groaning pleasantly when he feels you slick and ready for him. 

“Fuck,” He tugs you closer and you shuffle up his thighs as he directs his wet cock to your aching entrance, “sweetheart,”

”Please,” You beg, head fuzzy already at the catch of his cockhead on your clit. 

He directs your hips, and then in one desperate motion he jerks his hips up and drags your body down to sink himself all the way, nestled deeply inside you. 

The sudden stretch and sensation is sharp and hot and you moan, gripping down on his shoulders and shuddering above him. 

“I-I’m sorry,” He babbles, kissing across your face, “need you,” 

Your mouths find each other again, heat pulsing between you in the dark of your apartment and slowly you start to rock together. Following sensation only, instinct, need, all the ways you want to comfort each other, pleasure each other. He’s fucked you countless times this weekend, but this is making love, heady and dizzy like the first time your bodies coupled close. 

You grind against him, Yunho’s kisses traveling down your neck, your collarbones, pleasure rolling through you in a foggy thrill. 

“Feel so good,” You breathe, holding him close, “need you inside me all the time, fuck,” 

He groans, his mouth peppering hot kisses over your breasts, tongue teasing one nipple while his fingers tease the other, “That’s my girl,” 

“Mm, yes,” You sigh, rocking in the perfect rhythm. 

“Beautiful,” He pushes your robe open more, hands caressing you, until the fabric droops off your shoulders and leaves you naked to his hungry eyes, “my beautiful girl,” 

“Yunho,” You gasp sharply at the tweak of your nipple, at the praise, at his cock filling your channel. 

“Ride me like that,” He nods, eyes blown wide, “don’t stop, want you to come,” 

“K-kiss me,” You beg him with a pant, sensation blooming through your body. 

He drags you closer, locking your lips together, and you moan into his mouth. He nods, humming his approval for your desperate sounds, and you roll your body against him harder, heat spreading through your chest as you get closer and closer to the edge. Tangled up like this, without all that much room to move, you both just jerk and roll your hips, spurned on by the desperate need to feel each other falling apart one more time.

”There,” Yunho groans when he feels you getting close through the bond, one hand locking onto your ass to help steady your rutting movements, “right there, sweetheart,” 

“O-oh,” Your eyes shut tightly as a wave flows through you, pleasure a tight bubbling sensation in your gut, “Yunho, baby, oh,” 

“Come for me, jagi,” His voice is low, husky, his fingers gripping you tightly, “feel me inside you, come around my cock,” 

A shudder lances through you, and you fall apart in his arms, a mess of words babbled through your lips you can’t even hear. The thought of him inside you a singular, starving thought. He’s leaving, in a few yours you’ll be on this couch alone, and in a choked breath you beg him for more. You want the ache in your hips, the wet feeling of his release, bloomed bruises and a mouth kissed raw, you want to know not a second of this was a dream. 

Yunho wraps you up, his kiss hotter, needier as he pulls you back from the spiral of your thoughts, “Tell me you love me,” 

“I l-love you,” You whine against his cheek, your orgasm flooding through you. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” 

“All yours,” 

His hips roll as he holds you steady above him, fucking you slow and deep, “I can feel you,” a wave of pleasure and emotion washes through you from his side of the bond, “like you’re buried in my chest,” 

You nod, holding onto him for dear life as he loses himself. 

“You’re part of me,” He says between kisses, his forehead pressed on yours, “for as long as I live, you’re right here,” 

Yunho tugs your hand to lay flat over his chest, over the knotted soulmark on his breastbone and you gasp sharply, nodding again, “I love you,” 

“You feel me too, don’t you?” He manages.

”Always,” Your hips roll, meeting his tempo better, an undulation of your bodies that kisses your hips together with every breath, “always,” 

“Here,” He lays his hand flat over your chest, holding your gaze, “I’m right here,”

 Hot tears flood your eyes, overwhelming emotion, pleasure, and all you can do is nod. 

“That’s it,” He shudders, taking a sharp inhale, dragging your body back and forth with his other hand, “just like that,”

You’re both close, your own orgasm stretched long and his rocketing back full force. 

You whine his name, grip down on his sweat-slick shoulders. 

“Always here,” He manages, still breathless, “I’m always inside you,” 

“B-baby,” You’re a split second away, “Yunho!” 

He groans, his pace stuttering as he feels you start to come around him again, and he pulls you down flush to his hips. You feel his release wash through you, and the warm sensation of his cum pumping deep into you, filling you. 

Yunho’s face is buried in your neck as he pants, feeling your fluttering pulses still rocking through you, “Always inside you,” he shivers, kissing your chest, “always you and me,” 

Tears spill over, your fingers knotting into his hair as your bodies slowly rock together through the final washes of pleasure. 

When the wave passes, cool air washes over your skin and you shiver in his arms.

”Don’t be scared,” Yunho murmurs against your throat, feeling the thread of your grief underneath it all, “I promise you, we can do this,” 

“I know,” You breathe into his shoulder. 

“It’ll be hard,” He murmurs, straightening up and finding your face with gentle hands, “but you were right, we’re going to be so happy,” 

You nod, breathing back another wave of emotion. 

“This part will pass,” He murmurs. 

“I know,” You whisper softly in the dark safety of your apartment, “but I’m really going to miss you,”

He kisses you gently, full of tenderness, “Not for long, I promise,” 

“We’ll make this work,” You nod, trying to search for your earlier strength.

”We will,” He says, “we have a plan, and we have each other.” 

“Yunho,” You hold him close, “I love you,” 

“I love you too,” He seals it with a kiss, “always.” 

You nod against him, soaking in his warmth and his presence for a little longer.

After a few minutes he sighs, “Let’s go back to bed for a little while longer,” 

You agree, you let him take you upstairs. Wrapped up in each other’s arms you rest, but neither one of you falls asleep. Quietly you watch the night sky break hazy blue with the dawn, and you hold onto each other until the day gets up and moving around you, until it pulls him through the motions and out the door. Last kisses, last promises, a heavy ache nestling deep in both of your chests. 

On the couch, alone again, you close your eyes and search yourself for the thread of him, clinging to the tender ache in your ache in your hips, and the heavy beat of his heart with yours. 

───────────────────────── ✧₊⁺───────────────────────

Plans are just plans after all. 

Yunho has almost told his best friend about you a thousand times over, but every time the words die on his tongue. Keeping you a closely guarded secret is both the scariest and the smartest thing he thinks he’s ever done though, because the more people know about you the more risks there are that he can’t control. And he’s never been willing to be risky with you, not even before he realized you were his. 

Three long months have passed since that weekend in your apartment, and he’s seen you alone a total of nine times. Ten if you count the time he cornered you in the KBS dressing room last comeback, but he doesn’t really count one rushed kiss between panicked glances at the door as seeing you alone. 

Nine times.

It’s not for lack of trying, but this is harder than he ever imagined it would be. 

Four of the nine were for under an hour, two were barely over that, two were proper dinner dates, and one was a full night where he nearly got caught in the morning coming home. 

Coming to your apartment is a bigger production than he imagined in every way. 

For starters, his members were observant, and while his manager was a heavy sleeper, he didn’t go to bed until late. He’s had to cancel more plans with you than he’s made just because there was no safe way to not be seen. Each and every time he makes it to you successfully, there’s a cost. He’s missed dinner plans, been late to practices, and made up lie after lie just so he could see you, touch you even just for an hour. 

It makes sense then why he makes up a weak lie to Yeosang on tonight of all nights, just so he can get out of the dorms and make it to you by an even semi reasonable hour.

It makes sense too the way he fucked you, hard and needy and full of desperation, barely making it into the entryway of your apartment before he pinned you up against the door, leaving dinner on the stove to burn. 

It makes sense in the way he lets the hours go by without checking his phone, without suggesting that he really should be getting back. He’s sick of this, he’s sick of hiding, of constantly missing you, of seeing you at work and looking past you just to protect you. When he finally leaves, on the night he’ll consider your real tenth time together, it’s with a pit in his stomach after making love to you for hours, after ignoring the niggling feeling at the base of his skull that told him this time was different. 

It’s late when he turns the key in his lock, too late, but as long as everyone’s asleep he thinks maybe he’ll sneak in without detection. That idea gets ruined the second he locks the door and kicks off his shoes and sees Mingi and Yeosang quietly sitting side by side on his sofa, serious expressions on their faces. 

“Hey,” Yunho tries to keep it relaxed, tries to think of a white lie, “what’s up?” 

Mingi’s jaw jumps with a pulse of tension, “How about you tell us?” 

His chest aches a little at Mingi’s pained expression. He really had wanted to avoid this.

”What do you mean?” Yunho tries.

Mingi huffs a sharp breath through his nose, an unfunny laugh, “You lied to Yeosang about going out with me tonight,” 

Yunho stays perfectly still. 

“I bumped into him at the studio,” Yeosang explains, “I left my airpods, I went back to pick them up.” 

“Oh,” Yunho says dumbly. 

“Something’s been going on with you,” Mingi gets to his feet, “for months. I thought you’d talk to me if you needed to, and I tried to let you know you can talk to me,” 

Internally, Yunho winces. Mingi had, on several occasions, not so subtly offered himself as a listening ear. 

“But lying like this,” He says, “and you haven’t been sleeping, we haven’t gone out for food in ages, you were late to practice and Yeosangie says he hears you leave after he goes to bed,” 

His stomach tightens. 

“If you need help,” Mingi’s angry, that much is clear, but worry is threaded in his voice, “you’ve got to talk to us.” 

“I know that,” Yunho finds himself saying. 

“I know shit is hard,” Mingi says, “and this year has been rough, I know,” 

Yunho wants to stop him, but he can’t bring himself to say the words. 

“If you’re drinking, or if it’s drugs,” Mingi says, painfully direct despite the uncertainty on his face, “you don’t have to go through that alone.” 

The silence in the room is drowning him, and all at once Yunho realizes how much of a mistake it was to keep you hidden away from his brothers. 

“It’s not that,” Yunho admits hoarsely. 

“Thank God,” Yeosang drops his head into his hands. 

“Then,” Mingi searches his best friend’s face. 

“There is something,” Yunho feels his heartbeat pick up in his chest, and distantly inside himself he searches for the feeling of you, “I should have told you,” 

Mingi crosses his arms, but keeps his voice calm, “Okay,” 

Yeosang stands too, giving Yunho an encouraging nod. 

“I met someone,” Yunho manages. 

“What?” Mingi's arms drop, and Yeosang’s eyes widen. 

In all the years they’ve been together, Yunho’s never discussed a girl like this. Outside of occasionally covering for one another when someone has a hookup, romance and the risk that comes with that to their joint careers is something all eight of them have been diligent about since the beginning. It’s something they promised each other would never interfere, not while their contracts were so strict and so tenuous. 

“It’s more than that,” Yunho confesses, dropping his eyes, “it’s y/n,” 

“What?” Mingi’s voice is sharp, “Our y/n?” 

“How long?” Yeosang blinks. 

“Since Berlin,” Yunho looks up and rushes to the full truth the second he sees Mingi’s expression, “she’s my soulmate, it’s not what you think,” 

Yeosang’s eyes widen, “Our makeup artist is your soulmate?” 

“We didn’t know,” Yunho clarifies, “we touched, not even on purpose, and it was just like… there, we both knew,” 

The truth sits between them, immovable and too real. 

“So,” Mingi says finally, “that’s where you’ve been?” 

Yunho nods, “We have a plan, we just needed some more time before we told anyone,”

”Fuck you,” Mingi shakes his head. 

A spark of defensive anger ignites in Yunho’s gut, “What?” 

Mingi takes a wide step towards him, “Fuck you, I said,” he repeats, “we’ve done everything together since we were fourteen and you didn’t think I’d want to know you found the love of your life?” 

Yunho winces, “It’s not like that,” 

“How is it?” 

“We have to be careful, you know that,” Yunho presses, “I know I fucked up, but people can’t find out,” 

“Am I people?” Mingi’s voice spikes.

”No, that’s,” 

“I wouldn’t tell someone that,” Mingi presses on his logic, “none of us would, what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“Hey,” Yeosang grabs Mingi’s arm, “our manager will hear,” 

“Maybe he should hear!” Mingi shrugs off his hand. 

Yunho snaps immediately, “Keep your mouth shut,” he hisses, “you can be pissed all you want, but don’t put us in that position because you’re angry with me.” 

“Us,” He repeats, and then internally does the math, “Berlin was four months ago,” 

“I know,” 

“Who the fuck are you?” Mingi shakes his head, “You’ve been lying to our faces for months,” 

“I know,” Yunho drops his shoulders.

”Team meeting,” Yeosang says calmly, “tonight.” 

“It’s late,” Yunho offers.

”The rules are that we deal with something in the moment,” Mingi sneers, “or did you forget that one too?” 

Yunho takes the stinging barb without comment and nods, “Alright,” 

“Thirty minutes, at the studio.” Mingi says.

”I’ll get the others up,” Yeosang offers. 

“I’ll call y/n,” Yunho murmurs.

”Why?” Mingi reels back.

”Because,” Yunho’s jaw flexes, “whatever you feel about this, I’m not talking about her or making decisions that affect her without her in the room.” 

Mingi is speechless, but Yeosang simply nods, “It’s a good idea,” 

Yunho finds his phone, buried in his coat pocket, and grimaces when he sees a string of texts from you. He doesn’t even read them before he presses the call button. 

“Hey,” You answer immediately and his stomach unclenches at the sound of your voice.

”Hey,” Yunho says, “everything’s okay,”

”What happened?” Your tone is sharp and he can feel your tension. 

“The members know,” He keeps it simple, “we’re going to the studio to discuss it. Can you come?” 

“Now?” 

“Yes,” Yunho’s voice softens, “I just, I want you to,” 

“Let me get dressed, I can be there in fifteen minutes,” 

“Don’t rush,” Yunho presses, “and don’t walk at this time of night, take a taxi, I’ll pay for it just don’t,” 

“I’ll be fine,” You remind him. 

“y/n,” 

“I’ll call a cab,” You promise him. 

Yunho nods, “Thank you,” 

“I’ll see you soon,” You promise him, “but are you okay?” 

“Mhm,” Yunho replies shortly, “I’ll see you soon.”

”Alright,” You murmur, “I love you,” 

He can’t not say it back, and softly he replies, “I love you too,” 

When he drops the phone and looks back up to his best friend, the expression on his face is nothing short of abject betrayal. The ride to the studio is the most painful fifteen minutes of his life, followed only by the next fifteen minutes waiting for you, all eyes on him except for his best friend who can’t stop staring at the linoleum.  

───────────────────────── ✧₊⁺───────────────────────

You take a cab to the studio, just like Yunho asked you to, but it’s almost worse than walking. At least walking you’d have the distraction of movement and your own momentum making you feel like you were going somewhere. Every stop of the taxi makes your stomach lurch and your anxiety double in your chest. Yunho has been silent via text, and the panic of not knowing what you’re walking into is starting to eat at you alive. 

By the time you swipe your keycard you feel dizzy, and when you finally make it up to the practice room you realize those nerves aren’t just yours, but his too. The tension in the room is unmatched, and all eyes zero in on you like a laser beam. 

Words don’t come, but the frozen moment is broken the moment you meet Yunho’s eyes and he stands from his place leaning on the corner desk, cutting through the room to get to you. 

“Hey,” Your eyes flick from him to the room.

”Thank you for coming,” He brushes a hand over your arm and leans in, kissing you warmly on the forehead. 

The room makes no sound to welcome you and you find Yunho’s hand, “Is everything alright?” 

He gives you a tight smile, “Everything’s going to be fine,” 

So no. 

Someone clears their throat and you both take a small step away from each other. For the first time you have a second to assess everyone and it’s possibly worse than you thought. 

Hongjoong looks furious, Mingi murderous, and with the exception of San and Seonghwa, everyone else looks exhausted and in disbelief. 

“Alright,” Yunho says, “let’s talk,” 

Everyone looks to Hongjoong. 

He glances between you both, and then he sighs heavily and runs a hand over his face, “How about we start with an explanation? Yunho?” 

You can feel he has his defenses up, something coiled inside him and ready to strike, but you lay your hand on his forearm and give him a small squeeze and you watch the way he deflates, nodding a little to you. 

“In Berlin,” Yunho starts, his voice much calmer than it would have been without your grounding touch, “when a bunch of staff got Covid, y/n did my makeup for the first time.” 

Hongjoong nods, and you do your best to keep your eyes on him over the rest of the boys. 

“We hadn’t ever touched skin to skin before,” Yunho continues, “but when we did it was like all the stuff you read about, I knew it immediately.” 

“Did you?” Wooyoung breaks in, his eyes locked on you. 

You nod, “Immediately,” 

“Then?” Hongjoong prompts. 

“We tried to keep our distance for the tour once we talked it through,” He says, “the idea was to stay focused on work while we were abroad and to discuss it once we were back home and had the space to do that.” 

Hongjoong only nods. 

“Once we were home though,” Yunho looks down to you, finding your hand and lacing your fingers together, “it’s been different, harder. We are very aware of what this would do if it leaked, we’re taking every precaution, we’re keeping our distance even now.” 

“Were you ever planning to tell us?” Hongjoong finally asks. 

“Of course,” Yunho bristles at that, “we had a plan for that too. Once our contracts were near the six year mark, we planned to come and talk to you like this together,” 

“That’s months from now.” Mingi says dryly. 

”And what was the plan if you were seen before that? Photographed? Caught sneaking out?” Hongjoong says pointedly, “I assume you have a plan for that, otherwise this is incredibly, incredibly foolish of you both.” 

Shameful blush heats your cheeks and you look down, away from their eyes. 

”So no plan,” Hongjoong shakes his head, his voice hardening, “I cannot believe this,” 

“Joong,” Yunho takes a step forwards, “all of you, I know I fucked up, but this is different,” 

Mingi makes a sound of derision. 

Yunho looks to Seonghwa, and everything spins off the rails, “Hyung, tell them,” 

“Yunho,” Seonghwa says softly, “I told you both not to lie,” 

“You knew?” Hongjoong’s voice is sharp. 

“We both did,” San jumps in, ready to make sure Seonghwa isn’t falling on the sword alone. 

“This is not how we do things, this is not okay!” Hongjoong all but yells and you take a sliding step backwards out of the loose circle. 

A hand connects with your arm and you look up to Yeosang, “Hang on,” he says softly, “it’s alright,” 

“What happened to casual hookups but no relationships, hmm?” Hongjoong says, exasperated, “And being honest with us, your team, your brothers,” 

Anger flares inside you, but it isn’t yours, it’s Yunho’s, “You’re not getting it, this isn’t a relationship, this is something bigger than that,” 

“A year and a half,” Hongjoong runs a hand through his hair, “you couldn’t have just waited for a fucking year and a half?” 

“You don’t understand,” Yunho manages.

”I understand you’re willing to lie to us all of a sudden,” He counters, “you’re willing to put your career at risk, and ours, because you’re thinking with your dick,” 

Yunho’s hands tighten into fists and your stomach rolls. This is so much worse than you ever thought possible. 

You shrug off Yeosang’s hand and move for the door, but he catches you again, “Don’t go,” he presses, “this really isn’t about you, it’s about him lying. No one’s upset with you, not really, and Yunho wants you here.” 

You’re frozen, weighing his words and then in your periphery Jongho nods and quietly says, “Just wait,” 

When you turn back to center though, the altercation in the middle of the dance floor has gotten even more heated. 

“Out of line, hyung,” San is squared up between Yunho and Hongjoong, Mingi to the leader’s side still looking ready for a fight. 

“I’m,” Yunho flounders, “I’m not trying to be an asshole, but I’m telling you, you don’t understand what you’re talking about.” 

“Then explain it,” Hongjoong sounds so dismissive. 

“Joong,” Seonghwa murmurs gently, trying to bring the peace, “I know you’re angry,” 

“You’re right I’m angry,” Hongjoong swivels to face his friend, “and I haven’t even touched how angry I am at you for keeping this from me too.” 

“Joong,” Yunho tries. 

“No, no,” Hongjoong spins on his heel, “I think we’re allowed to be a little angry. We have a nine AM schedule, and it’s three o’clock in the morning. You’ve dragged us here to talk about this, not some little interpersonal rift, no, we’re here to find out that one of our own has been putting us at risk for months,” 

“Jesus,” Yunho drags a hand through his hair, emotion rising in his chest, “I’m sorry, I am, but you don’t understand,” 

“I think we understand just fine,” Mingi says, his arms crossed tightly. 

Yunho scoffs, and you feel the reflection of his frustration in your own chest. 

“Oh,” Yunho throws his hands up, “you understand, you all understand.” 

“Yunho,” Wooyoung tries softly, reading his sudden intensity, but it’s no use now. 

“When we touched everything changed,” Yunho insists, “it’s not just knowing she’s my soulmate. I can feel her, all of that shit is true.” 

“But people,” Hongjoong starts, and it doesn’t really matter what his argument is because Yunho steamrolls that too. 

“I don’t care about people,” Yunho says firmly, “I care about her. It’s not a crush, it’s not a flirtation. She’s not a hookup or just any girl, she’s the one and the minute I knew it, it was like the entire universe pushed me towards her until we were together. We’ve been fighting how that feels for months to try and keep this quiet, because both of us would never risk this team, but don’t tell me you understand how it feels. You don’t.” 

The room has gone quiet, and raw emotion fills your chest. 

“I’m still sorry,” Yunho manages, “I shouldn’t have lied to any of you and I know that. I know that.” 

Your heartbeat quickens. 

“But, what would you have me do?” Yunho asks, his voice cracking, “My entire life I’ve worked for this, for us, and I’ve given everything I have to it for every second of the past six years,”

No one says anything to that, because of course he has. They all have. 

Yunho’s shoulders drop, “Am I supposed to give this too?” 

Tears flood your eyes but you hold yourself steady for him. 

His words hang in the silence, but it’s Mingi who finally breaks it, “You’re my brother,” he says, his voice considerably gentler, “I’d never hurt you like that.” 

“Then please,” Yunho implores, “please listen to me, to us, I know we made mistakes, but haven’t I earned that?” 

Hongjoong sinks back against the desk and runs a hand through his messy hair, and slowly he nods. 

“We’re listening,” Mingi relaxes his posture, his eyes softening, “we are,” 

Yunho swallows tightly and nods, taking a breath. 

Hongjoong’s eyes flick from Yunho to you, “y/n, come back, I’m sorry,” 

Yunho turns in a flash and catches where you are in the room, close to the door with Yeosang and Jongho blocking your exit, eyes full of tears and arms wrapped around yourself. 

“Baby,” He breathes, crossing the room once again for you, “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” 

“It’s okay,” You breathe, pulling back the tears, “I’m fine,” 

“You’re crying,” He tugs you in, kissing your head. 

“I’m fine, let’s talk to them,” You brush off his attentions but you feel him through the bond, a comforting brush of his mind on yours, and you find his hand to lace your fingers together. 

He draws you into the circle, and you brush away any lingering tears with your free hand before taking a deep breath. 

“We,” Hongjoong looks around the circle and then back up to you both, echoing Mingi’s words, “we’re all listening.” 

Yunho’s nervous, you can feel it, but you give his hand a squeeze and look up as he starts to speak, “Someday,” he offers, “you’ll meet your person and it will make more sense why we both acted the way we did, I don’t mean to sound like that, but I really don’t know how to put it all in words,” 

Mingi’s jaw tightens, but he releases it immediately and you can see how he’s trying to keep himself relaxed and steady for his best friend now that the initial wave of anger is passed. 

“We should have told you all sooner, and I know it isn’t a matter of trust, but,” He rubs at the anxious knot in his chest and you feel the echo of it, “you know how our contracts are,” 

There’s soft murmurs of acknowledgement. 

“You know what could happen to her if anyone,” He looks down at you briefly before looking up to Mingi, holding his best friend’s gaze, “I just wanted to keep her safe from that, for as long as I could.” 

Mingi nods, his posture relaxing, “Alright,” 

“What we talk about here doesn’t leave this room,” Jongho offers, laying a hand on Yunho’s arm, “that has always been true, and that includes this.” 

Yunho swallows back a knot of emotion and nods, “Thank you,” 

“You’re bonded already,” Wooyoung notes, not a question but an observation as he watches the two of you together. 

Your hand falls away from your chest, where you were slowly massaging the same spot of anxiety, a mirror of Yunho. 

“Yes,” Yunho murmurs, “I love her, I,” 

“We love each other,” You finally find the strength to speak now that the tension has gone down a little, “and I’m sorry too, but it doesn’t change what we are to each other. He’s it for me,” 

Seonghwa smiles first, and then San follows, “It is pretty romantic,” he says. 

“Can you really feel each other through the bond?” Wooyoung asks, no longer upset but interested. 

“It’s insane,” Yunho nods, a grin breaking out on his face. 

“Even from far apart?” Mingi raises an eyebrow. 

You nod, “I knew something was wrong tonight before he called me,” you explain, “I could just feel it.” 

“Damn,” Wooyoung says, “that is insane,” 

“Yeah,” You manage. 

“Alright,” Hongjoong interrupts, bringing the group back to attention, “then the only thing to do is move forward. We’re a team, we’ve handled a lot of shit together. We can handle this too,” 

Yunho lets out a breath of relief and manages a thank you, but Hongjoong continues. 

“We need a plan, and we need one now.” 

You nod along with his words, “You’re right.” 

“Who knows about you two?” He asks. 

“Just Iseul from staff,” You see the stricken expression on Hongjoong’s face but you calm him immediately, “she’s known since Paris, and she’s my best friend. She hasn’t said a word to anyone and is already covering for us, we can trust her,” 

“Our families know,” Yunho says, “well, Gunho and her sister, anyway,” 

“Would they tell anyone?” Hongjoong asks delicately.

”No,” You’re firm, “Hana understands the risks for us, she and her wife both do.” 

There’s a flicker of understanding in his eyes when he hears the word wife, and he nods, “Good, that’s good,” 

“And you know Gunho,” Yunho says. 

“Tell me again, then,” Hongjoong sighs, “what was your plan?” 

“When contracts are at year six,” Yunho releases your hand so that he can wrap his arm around your shoulders instead, “we were going to come to you, and hope that you would all be willing to do an early renegotiation. We’d come clean as part of that process and find a way to loosen the contracts for dating. We have no plans of being publicly together for a long time, but at least then we wouldn’t have to sneak around and risk our contracts because of it,” 

“It’s not a bad plan,” Hongjoong says, “but by that time you’d have been together for months, it’s too risky to assume no manager will ever look into where you’ve been disappearing or notice something between you at the office,” 

You nod. 

“It makes the lying look worse,” Jongho adds, “if you were just dating anyone I’d say maybe don’t come clean, but you can’t help finding your soulmate.” 

“Only,” You jump in softly, “we’ve never heard of an idol with a soulmate,” 

Hongjoong chews the inside of his cheek, “True,” 

“Have you considered you might be the first?” Wooyoung offers.

 “That’s not possible,” Yunho shakes his head, “there has to be someone,” 

“I mean,” Wooyoung shrugs, “not that any of us have heard of, right?” 

He looks around the circle, but no one jumps in with an example, everyone stays painfully quiet. 

“It’s strange there’s no clause for it,” Mingi says, “an exception,” 

“It’s not,” You sigh, “could you imagine us feeling this way at twenty? Or when you were all trainees?” 

“Companies don’t want us to find soulmates,” Wooyoung nods, “I wonder if this has happened before but we just don’t know, maybe companies keep it covered up?” 

“Yeah, well,” Yunho’s hand tightens on you, “we’re bonded already. I’m sure some companies think they’re more powerful than a centuries old metaphysical connection, but they can go fuck themselves.”

You huff a small laugh and tuck your face into Yunho’s chest. 

“Maybe let’s not lead with that,” Hongjoong sighs, “we want them to agree.” 

“We’re skipping steps,” Jongho interrupts, “no matter what, if you stay together we need to renegotiate contracts.” 

Yunho stiffens, but you settle him with a hand over his chest. 

“A vote,” Hongjoong clears his throat, “and we need to be in agreement. Hands up for early renegotiation conversations with leadership, standing by Yunho and y/n for adjustments to the dating clauses. Remember this path is riskier, and will potentially result in months of negotiations.” 

Hands raise throughout the circle, and your chest grows tighter. 

Your eyes flick from member to member, each one with their hand raised regardless of how tired or angry they were moments ago. 

The only member without his hand raised is Mingi. 

Yunho’s arm falls away from you as he turns towards him, “Please,” 

But Mingi looks straight at you and it roots you to the spot, “Are you ready for this?” 

“Me?” Your eyebrows raise.

”Mingi, don’t,” Yunho warns.

 “It’s going to be public,” Mingi says plainly, “at some point at least. Can you handle that? Can you ignore all the bullshit and stay anyway? Because this job is our dream, his dream, and the fans and the visibility, all of that comes with it.” 

“You don’t have to answer that,” Yunho moves to step between you, as if there’s some kind of threat in the question, but you side step him. 

“Yunho,” You tell him, a soft rebuke in your tone. 

He stays silent. 

Turning your eyes to Mingi you nod, “I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, “I don’t do the job you do. I don’t know what that amount of attention or pressure feels like, honestly, I don’t really want to know.” 

He studies your expression. 

“I have no interest in hurting any of your dreams, your careers, and I’ll do everything I can to protect them. But like it or not, I’m not going anywhere,” Your hands clench into fists, “and it would be nice if whatever plan we come up with acknowledges the fact that I also work at this company, I also stand to lose everything, and if the public decides to shred someone, it won’t be any of you, it will be me. I love him, I know the risks, and I am not giving him up. Is that enough for you or not?” 

Mingi takes in your words for a beat and then he smiles widely and raises his hand, “Let’s do this,” 

“Just like that?” Your eyes widen.

You expected more of a fight from him, but at Yunho’s relieved exhale you know he’s on board. 

“Yep,” Mingi nods and then looks up to Yunho, “I always knew I like her,” 

“I’m standing right here,” You cross your arms. 

“Pick your battles, baby,” Yunho wraps his arms around you from behind and gives you a squeeze. Taking a deep breath, he looks up to his members, “I,” he clears his throat, “I’ll never be able to thank you all for this,” 

Hongjoong brushes that off, “We’re a team. It doesn’t work without all eight.”

“Still,” Yunho presses, “thank you.” 

Hongjoong nods once, “No  more lies now,” he adds, “if we’re in this together, we’re in it.” 

You nod and so does Yunho. 

“If you’re seeing each other, one of us needs to know and we need a better cover than ‘he’s out’,” He continues. 

“So contracts first?” San asks, “If we don’t know how they’ll take their bonding, it’s a wild card for negotiations.” 

Everyone considers that point and Yunho nods, “It’s not odd for us to want to renegotiate early, and removing dating bans is standard for moving off rookie contracts, if we’re all in that together it wouldn’t throw any flags.” 

Hongjoong considers it and then nods, “Friday after practice, we’ll meet at your apartment. We’ll put the plan together then in detail and decide what and how we want to negotiate. What we’re willing to give, what we’re not.” 

Everyone nods. “If we can make some decisions, we can consult outside counsel and we can start meetings with leadership in the next few weeks. There’s no telling how long that process will take, but until then,” He looks to you both, “be additionally cautious.” 

“Of course,” You nod. 

“We’ll tell them about us when it makes sense to do that with negotiations,” Yunho agrees, “we’ll take their temperature first, and then come clean. We need to see what we can do to insulate y/n’s position here, and I’d rather have that conversation with the CEO directly while we have a good relationship,” 

“Agreed,” Hongjoong says. 

There’s a collective feeling of relief in the room, the air slowly let out of the balloon of tension, and then Wooyoung cracks through the silence with a laugh, “Holy shit,” he smiles, “one of us is bonded.” 

Yunho smiles, his chest swelling with pride behind you, “I know,” 

“It would be you,” Seonghwa laughs. 

Yunho rolls his eyes and you look at Seonghwa with a little confusion. 

“We used to call him cathedral boy,” San says wryly. 

You laugh and Yunho wraps his arms around you more tightly. 

Hongjoong smiles, really smiles for the first time since you got here and nods, “Alright, alright,” he checks his phone, “we have a schedule in less than five hours, let’s get home.” 

Jongho nods, pulling on his beanie, “You know,” he says, “if we renegotiate now, maybe we’ll actually start getting paid,” 

“That’s the idea,” Mingi huffs a laugh and everyone follows behind.

Yunho’s shoulders drop, the final bit of anxiety leaving him.  

After that, the room starts to break up, everyone finding their jackets, but one by one, each of them gives you and Yunho a moment; a warm expression, a hand on the shoulder, a few words of congratulations. The anger you felt when you first walked in the room is gone entirely, and all that’s left is pure relief. 

Yunho drops his lips to your head and sighs heavily, warm air tickling your scalp, “Well,” he murmurs, “we did it,” 

You rest your hand over his and gently stroke his skin, “Are you okay?” 

He nods, “Yeah,” 

You feel the swirling emotions in him - relief, pride, hope, elation. For the first time since finding out you were fated for each other, the obstacles in front of you don’t seem so impossible to overcome. 

Mingi and Yeosang are the last in the room with you both, and quietly you untangle yourself from Yunho until the four of you are in a loose square in the middle of the practice room. 

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Mingi says, clearing his throat, “I was a dick.” 

Yunho shakes his head, “You’re good, I deserved it.” 

You glance between them, but Yeosang smiles a little and interjects, “You two look happy together, we can’t deny that,” 

You smile too, nodding and finding yourself once again caught by Yunho’s warm expression as he looks down at you. 

“Go on,” Mingi sighs, “take her home, we’ll cover for you tonight.” 

“But,” Yunho’s head snaps back up to his friends. 

“I’ll bring you a change of clothes to the office,” Yeosang says, “you couldn’t sleep and went for an early morning run, right?” 

Yunho nods, “Right,” 

“Don’t be late,” Mingi claps his best friend on the shoulder, “now go get some sleep, you look tired as hell.” 

Yunho snorts, “Thanks, man,” 

“Yep,” Mingi pulls a beanie over his hair and nods to you, “take care of him.” 

Warmth blossoms in your chest, “I will.” 

Mingi nods again, as if to say he knows you will, and then he and Yeosang are gone, leaving you both alone in the mirrored room. 

There’s nothing to say, not right now, but you fold into each other tenderly. After months of lies and panic and anxiety, you have your answers to so many questions. Yunho kisses you softly, wraps you up in his coat, and takes you home, right where you’re both supposed to be.

[hips-dont-lieculosis]

I’ve decided to try compile my top ten, post hiatus videos, don’t hate me these are just my options, some of them even I don’t understand, this will not include ongoing series so no Tik Tok vids or Phan twitter or poppys playtime because those would take up too much space, so without further ado, for your viewing pleasure, my top ten post hiatus Dan and Phil videos as of today:

#10, the power washing video, not only is it so calming and satisfying to watch but I love how real they are and the fact that Phil leaves to have a bath, he’s so me, I do love when they play a slower game and just have chats in-between game play.

#9 the don’t scream video, this one is so weirdly soothing for me, I think because I’ve seen it so many times that I know when the jump scares are so I just get to enjoy 17 minutes of dan and Phil whispering and holding each others hands, very nice very good

#8 need I say more, it’s fantastic, love seeing that in the absolutely wildest fantasy medieval scenarios they can think of they both include them being happy together and basically dying in each others arms, very cute, it would be higher if it wasn’t sponsored by that weird game but hey, the boys have to pay that phortgage

#7 DATE NIGHT??? Honestly the fact that they call each other their “partner” the entire time and dan calling out Phil for being like “no homo” it feels like they’re edging us with the hard launch, like we KNOW NOW KISS ALREADY, also the murder on the dance floor little jam sesh, yeah… love it

#6 I love them making observations about each other, the roasting is so clever and playful that it’s not super like “are they actually mad at each other? They’re so cute and it’s really feels like a married couple being like “love you but also I’m going to roast your ass”

#5 this one is a bit similar to #7 but I think it’s slightly higher because I think they both look absolutely GORGEOUS, the silk is doing something, and the content is just banging, it’s the origin of “lamp gate” plus dan just getting crunk on amaretto, good for him, I may have slight recency bias though because I just watched this video again

#4 again probs recency bias but this video is so good, lore bombs AND competition AND it’s a dan vs phil, plus they are so funny in this, dans… outburst, hardest I’ve laughed at a dan and phil video in a little bit

#3 the camera angle, hi dads, Dan helping Phil sort out his drink, chivalry, the background is gorg, they are gorg, honestly any of the dragon city sponsored videos are so good, they seem like they’re having fun, very very good video

#2 I LOVE this video, they compliment each other throughout, they’re reminiscing, they’re cringing, dan looks like a grippy sock, and even more lore bombs it’s probably my most watched video from after the hiatus

#1 the light of my life, she is so beautiful, so horny, so funny, the bits in this like the oven being kinky, love they’re so playful and the baking is successful??????? Honestly probably my all time favourite baking video

And that’s that, I know I’ve definitely forgotten a banger video and I’m going to want to change this instantly but for now, here she is, lmk if you agree, what are your top 10?

[lvebug]

@inhcritance said: “NO DON'T MOVE, IT'S TOO COLD OUTSIDE THE COVERS.”

it's a compelling argument.

instead of getting up like she had planned, andie shits under the covers and rolls the other direction—towards harry. the blankets are pulled up to her chin, trapping in all the warmth, and she ensures they stay that way as she closes the distance until she can press her cheek against harry's shoulder. there's no where more important that she has to be, anyway. not with the blankets and harry warm while the room is cold, and not while the birds sing and there isn't yet anyone in the castle who will be wondering about her whereabouts. "okay," she says softly, smile blooming slow across her face. "you make a compelling argument."

his skin is right there under hers. it wouldn't take much, just the smallest of movements, to turn her head and press a kiss against his shoulder. and even better: there's nothing to say that she can't, or that she shouldn't. so she does. just a small press of her lips against his shoulder before she settles her head back in place.

[cameronsbabydoll]

Ok hi! Two things! 1) is there a c.ai bot for SCC Rafe? And 2) - would you ever consider writing for obx in the fantasy genre? .. and by that I mean like - Fawn! hybrid reader and buck!hybrid Rafe kinda thing? If not it's totally okay! I love your work! Please don't stop writing! ..

also - to point out the whole people complaining about the Jewish AU thing - just because someone is Jewish- doesn't immediately mean they're zionist?

no i don’t have a cai.bot for scc!rafe! im not a huge fan of ai plus i have no idea how cai works!

i’m definitely down to do something with fantasy! i think i have a fic with a bunny!hyrbid reader actually in my masterlist. but im excited for kinktober cause i have some really cool stuff planned with a fantasy / black mirror vibes.

here are some au / series ideas i have with a similar vibe!

1. The Glass Girl (Mannequin AU)

Rafe finds you in a dusty antique shop—a perfect, porcelain-faced mannequin dressed in a lace gown. Something about you calls to him, and before he knows it, you’re in his home, propped up in the corner of his bedroom.

Then, one night, you move.

You don’t remember where you came from. Your hands shake when you touch your own skin, as if you’re not used to being real. But Rafe doesn’t mind. He dresses you in silk, combs your hair, places you exactly how he wants you.

"You were made for me," he whispers, and you believe him.

But sometimes, when you look in the mirror, you swear you still don’t have a reflection.

3. Doll House Darling (Housewife Experiment)

Rafe has been designing you for years—on paper, in his mind, through whispered dreams.

Then, one day, you wake up.

Your dresses are always ironed. Your hair always falls perfectly. Your voice is soft, sweet, and never disobeys.

Rafe built you to be his perfect wife—his doll, his masterpiece. You don’t remember anything before him, but he assures you it doesn’t matter.

"You were made for me, baby."

You believe him. Until, one day, you find the others.

Lined up in the attic. Glassy-eyed. Forgotten

13. The Witch on the Bluff (vintage Americana, seductive magic, obsessive men)
You sell love potions from your pink-shuttered house on the cliffs. The girls in town call you “the love witch,” and the boys pretend they don’t believe. But Rafe Cameron? He believes. He drinks your tea. He shows up in your garden at night. “I don’t care what kind of spell you put on me,” he says, touching your neck. “It’s working.” You think you’ve cast love, but what grows between you is something darker—something sticky, ancient, possessive. You dream of fire. He dreams of a wedding. One of you will burn.

58. The Astronaut’s Wife

In a futuristic, dreamlike world, Rafe is an astronaut who has just returned from an unexplained mission. You are his wife, waiting faithfully, but the man who steps off the spacecraft is not entirely the man you married. His eyes don’t focus the same way, his hands linger too long on surfaces as if learning them anew, and at night, he whispers in a language you don’t recognize. The government assures you everything is fine. He assures you everything is fine. But when you wake up with bruises in the shape of hands too large to be human, you start to wonder if Rafe ever really came home at all.

59. The Marionette Bride

You were meant to be a real girl, a real wife—but Rafe built you instead. He is a craftsman, an artist, a creator of beautiful things, and you are his finest work. You don’t remember being made, only waking up in his arms, your body moving to the pull of invisible strings. At first, you are perfect. You do what he wants, say what he wants. But then you start to dream. You start to think. And one day, when he is not looking, you cut your own strings. The question is: what happens to a doll who no longer wants to dance?

60. The Man Who Paints With Blood

In a city where art is everything, Rafe is the most celebrated painter of his time. His pieces are haunting, alive with emotion—so visceral they almost breathe. You are his muse, his greatest obsession, and you love him until the day you discover his secret: his paintings are not just paintings. They are prisons, each brushstroke binding a soul to the canvas. He has painted you a thousand times, trying to capture you perfectly, but he is never satisfied. One day, he will get it right. One day, you will disappear into the canvas, and the world will call it his masterpiece.

61. The Lighthouse Keeper and His Siren

Rafe lives alone in a lighthouse at the edge of the world, tending to the light, guiding ships home—or luring them to their deaths. You are a siren, washed up on the shore, half-drowned, voiceless. He takes you in, keeps you hidden, knowing that if the town finds out, they will kill you. You do not remember your songs, but you feel them in your throat, aching to be sung. He swears he will protect you, but sometimes, you catch him staring at the ocean like it calls him. Or maybe it's you that calls him. And when you finally remember your voice, you must decide: will you save him, or will you drag him under?

62. The Boy in the Fog

they say Rafe Cameron died years ago, lost in the marsh when his boat overturned. His body was never found, but the town mourned him, the golden boy swallowed by the mist. And yet, on the nights when the fog rolls in thick as breath, you see him standing at the edge of the dock, water dripping from his clothes. At first, you think it’s grief playing tricks on you. But then he speaks your name. Then he reaches for you with hands that are too cold, too strong. Come with me, he whispers. I don’t want to be alone anymore.

63. The Devil's Reflection

The mirror in your bedroom belonged to someone before you—someone who disappeared without a trace. You don’t think much of it until, one night, you catch a glimpse of something that shouldn’t be there. A man. He is not a ghost; he is something worse. His voice is soft, curling around you like smoke, and when he speaks, it feels like he knows you. You’re the first one to talk to me, he says, almost fondly. Do you know what that means? The reflection flickers, and suddenly, his hands aren’t pressed against the glass anymore. They’re on your shoulders.

64. The Drowned Prince

Long ago, Rafe Cameron was the crown prince of a golden kingdom. But his heart was too cruel, and the gods punished him, pulling him beneath the waves. He is said to haunt the shores, his voice in the wind, his eyes in the depths. You do not believe in ghosts. You do not believe in curses. But when your ship wrecks and you wake in an underwater palace of coral and bone, he is waiting. “You don’t know what you’ve done,” he murmurs, circling you like a predator. “You looked at me, little thing. And now you belong to me.”

[mongoosingisme]

Elliott/fem!reader… thing under the cut

Title: 13 Ways of Looking at a Barroom

Contains: book clubs, creative processes, Elliott’s overactive imagination

Word Count: ~3200

Rating: M? I think? Don’t think it’s quite an E because it’s all talk? But I could be wrong? Definitely for the 18+ crowd, though, if you would be so kind.

Notes: I’ve been in bed with the flu all week, so I haven’t had the wherewithal to do much with my current series. But this… happened. Fever dream I guess. Anyway, enjoy! Or not! Okay thanks love you bye.

When you’d moved out of the city to take over your grandfather’s farm, there were a few things you expected.

Long hard days and aching muscles? Sure.

Financial troubles? Probably, at least at first.

Copious exposure to animal droppings? A given.

What you weren’t expecting was that within six months you’d join a book club.

Yet there you were, every other Wednesday night at the Stardrop Saloon. A glass of wine, a paperback novel, and the usual suspects:

Penny - your local representative. Sweet with a surprising penchant for the lurid.

Harvey - Mr. Doctor man. He was the quietest of the group, but always had some interesting points when he chimed in.

Elliott - Pelican Town’s writer in residence and certified yapper. You appreciated his insight, though sometimes it could be tough to get a word in edgewise.

But it was alright. You liked your little group. Liked the excuse to get out. Liked the chance to see Elliott, with whom you had a bit of a… what would the word be? A spark? A zing? Nothing spoken, nothing confirmed, just a pull. Eye contact held a little too long. A brush of a hand. A long conversation.

For such a talkative man, Elliott was a surprisingly good listener.

He was also absolutely nuts, but you kind of liked that about him too. You never knew what was going to come out of that man’s mouth. The best part of life right now was that hour or two you’d both linger after book club, enjoying an extra glass of wine, talking about whatever crossed your mind.

Today you were continuing a topic that’d arisen at the end of the club’s discussion time: romance novels. More specifically, the recent rise of monster romances.

You didn’t get them.

Penny had been a fan.

“They’re fascinating, though!” she’d said. “It’s incredible the imagination that goes into them.”

“Yeah but…” you’d taken a sip from your nearly empty glass of wine. “I just… I don’t see it?”

“Have you read one?” Elliott this time. He was about as far into his glass as you were.

“No, I haven’t. Maybe I should.”

“You’re welcome to browse my collection!” Penny was beaming, pleased to have a partner in… what, monster dick? Sure. A partner in monster dick.

“I’ll take a look at whatever you recommend.”

Harvey was notably silent through the conversation thus far, but he piped in with a “pull one out for me too, please.”

Penny clapped her hands in delight. You whooped. “Alright, Harvey!”

“Shall we make it the topic of our next meeting, then?” Elliott was taking charge, as usual.

The motion passed with no dissensions

Later, as you and Elliott lounged on the couch, each halfway through glass number two, the topic returned again.

“Do you read much romance?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Some, but usually only if it’s popular. It’s only been recently that I realized how deep the genre goes.”

“Indeed,” Elliott confirmed. “It’s thrilling, the variety available these days. As a writer it’s rather heady to feel that your deepest thoughts and fantasies might not only be received well, but celebrated.”

It was probably the wine that made you snort and ask “what, are you writing monster porn down in your little writer’s hovel?”

“I may be,” Elliott said, raising his eyebrows in mock conspiracy.

You couldn’t see it. He always seemed so… refined. Clean, somehow. Floating gently above the ground, head in some other dimension. He made you think of curtains billowing in the moonlight, silk sheets, rose petals, “making love.”

You hated that phrase.

“I don’t buy it.” You took another sip of your wine.

“No?” asked Elliott. He was smiling a little, cheeks flushed in a pretty sort of way. He leaned forward, hair falling over his shoulder. “You don’t think I have the imagination for it?”

“Imagination’s not the issue. It’s… I don’t know. You’re the writer. What’s the word… sensibility?”

“Ah.” He took another sip of wine. You worked very hard not to notice the way his wrist and forearms flexed beneath his rolled-up sleeves as he brought the glass to his lips. Then, playfully: “what kind of sensibilities do you think I have?”

If you hadn’t been nearly half a bottle of wine in, you’d have sidestepped the question. But you were relaxed, feeling good, feeling great, really, so you said “you seem like such a romantic! All, like, chivalry and moonlit walks on the beach, y’know?”

“Mmmm,” he agreed. “I do enjoy a walk on the beach in the moonlight. The waves sound different under the moon, don’t you think?”

You shrugged. You’d never thought about it.

“But that’s a rather limited view of romance, no? What’s romance without passion? What’s passion but the desire to know someone else in as many ways as possible?”

You shrugged again, drank a little more wine. “I suppose, but I’m not sure if that really stretches to monster dick.”

“Oh, but it does!” Elliott was becoming animated. “Think of the potential! The sensory input! Feeling things through a story that would be impossible or unsafe to experience in everyday life! The taboo! To explore extremes, both physical and emotional!” His hands were moving as he spoke. You were a little worried he was going to spill his wine, but he paused long enough to drain his glass. You watched his throat move as he swallowed. “There are so many ways to fathom another person. Why should we constrain ourselves to reality?”

Good Yoba, the man really was writing about monster cock, wasn’t he?

He was still going. “It is the burden and the privilege of the writer to uncover these different ways of knowing someone. To breathe life into them and make them real.”

“Is that what you do?” You drained your glass. “Imagine different ways to fuck?”

If he was put off by your vulgarity he didn’t show it. “It can be a useful practice, and certainly an enjoyable one.”

“Huh,” you said. “So how does that work? Do you look at porn or something?”

“Oh no no no.” Elliott was waving a hand. “Not to disparage visual depictions of intimacy, but they’re static. It’s more a practice of assessing the emotional currents around you, how people interact with each other and their environment. The more you do it the more it flows.”

“Huh,” you said again. “So, like, here at the Saloon? You’re, like, watching people and thinking about what they might do?”

“That’s a wonderful example. Yes. Here at the saloon. I could think of a dozen ways to have you here in this environment.”

It must have been the wine, the way his statement was so specific. “A dozen ways to have you.” Not “a dozen different scenarios.” Not “a dozen ways to fuck.”

“A dozen ways to have you.”

And it was absolutely the wine that made you say “bullshit. Prove it.”

Something was alight in Elliott’s eyes. “A challenge!” he said “Marvelous!” He rubbed his hands together, glancing around. You settled back into the couch, crossed a leg over your knee.

Waited.

“First, the obvious. Bent over the pool table. You’d be wearing a skirt, of course, to ease access. I’d remove your shirt and undergarments so you could feel the table’s felt as we shifted back and forth. I would assume the texture would be quite pleasurable, don’t you agree?”

Uh.

Um.

….uh.

“Sure,” you said. Your voice was mostly steady. You uncrossed your legs, resettled into the couch.

“And while we’re harvesting low-hanging fruit, this couch is another clear choice. I’d have you on your knees, facing the wall. You could hang onto the back of the couch while I took you from behind.” He had a slightly far away look in his eyes.

You were starting to feel rather hot in the face.

“That’s two from behind. Hmmmmm. Of course. The arcade machine. You’d be wearing a skirt again. That should be a given for all of these, I think. I could set you up there facing me, watch your face as I pushed into you. It’d be precarious with such a small ledge, but perhaps I could lean in a bit and you could hook your legs over my arms.” He was nodding to himself. “Yes, that would work. Would be pleasurable for both of us.”

There was something starting to happen in your body. A shift, a thrill.

Elliott was still talking.

“Up against the soda machine. I’d have you facing me again, pick you up and brace you with my thighs. This one could be interesting, especially if it were cold to the touch. Hmmmm.” He considered, then stood up and felt the casing of the machine, running his hand along the front and the side. “The front is room temperature, but the side is cool,” he reported as he settled back in, slightly closer to you then he had been before. “So I’d turn you around to the side, bend you over slightly so your breasts were against the machine, and take you from behind. How many is that?”

It took you a second to catch up. “Um… four?”

“Excellent. I’ve always been interested in the statute of the bear. What wood do you think it’s made out of?”

You shrugged. It was a little hard to keep up with him sometimes.

“Mmm, well. We’ll keep that an unknown. It may be something fragrant. For the sake of the exercise we’ll assume it’s cedar. I would press you up against it with as much of your skin exposed as I could. I’d run my hands over you, make you warm and flushed, and the heat of your skin would bring out the fragrance. For number six I’d-“

“Wait. That doesn’t count.”

“Oh?” Elliott focused in on you. His eyes were a little darker than you were used to seeing.

Your stomach swooped.

“Yeah, that’s just… just touching. Doesn’t count.”

“I disagree!” He sounded delighted. “Constraining passion to penetration is so limiting! There are so many ways to elicit pleasure and intimacy. Think about it - my hands on your skin, my body close to you. You could feel my heat, my breath. I could whisper into your ear, press my lips to your neck. You could feel my excitement start to grow, hear the tension in my voice, my breaths quickening. And then the aroma, the cedar rising as your body heated the wood. Is it not thrilling?”

It was.

It really, really was.

You could feel it now, the rush of blood. The tensing in your thighs, your jaw. Imagining his hands on you, the way the statue would feel, what he might whisper in your ear as he caressed your skin.

“I… I see your point.” You shifted on the couch, drew your knees up, pointed your body towards him.

He was still gazing out at the saloon. “The booths are another lovely idea. We could sit next to each other at dinner, holding a conversation with someone else. Let’s say Harvey and Penny. As they ask you what you thought about our most recent read I could slide my hand up under your skirt, press my fingers against you, work you as you tried to keep a straight face.” He took a drink from his wine glass, then seemed surprised that it was empty. He recovered quickly, though. ”Or perhaps you would give as good as you got, creep under the table, take me in your mouth while I tried to write.”

“Interesting way to find some inspiration,” you muttered. You couldn’t keep still, sitting up straighter now, legs pressed together, sitting on your hands. You felt tight. A little shuddery.

Elliott made eye contact again. Another thrill went through you. “I’ve always wondered what what it might be like write with someone’s lips around me. Would it be easier? More difficult? Would it affect my word choice? Would I abandon the attempt altogether and slip my hands into your hair, hold you there and listen to the noises you made while I thrust into you?”

He was staring at you very, very hard.

You stared back.

You wondered if this was how an ant felt, the first millisecond a magnifying glass gathered the sun into a single brilliant point. Frozen. Elated. The center of the universe, about to burst into flame

Yoba, you had it bad for him.

“What number was that?” He held your eyes. His voice was soft.

“I… I lost count…”

He stared a moment longer, than shook himself. Took a breath. “Six or seven, I believe. What else?” He tapped a finger on his chin, gazing around the room.

You slowly remembered how to breathe.

“The bar. I’d lay you down on it, pour wine into your naval, watch it overflow. Red, of course. A good one, deserving of your flavor. I’d lick it off while working my fingers in you. I’d swipe my fingers through the wine after you finished, hold them to your lips so you could have a taste.”

His gaze was far away again. A blessing - he missed the way you squirmed.

“The carpet in front of the fireplace? I’d worry it’d be a little dirty, but maybe that would add to the appeal. On your hands and knees, you’d feel the bits of dirt scratching at your skin as you shifted with me. I could pull you up by your hair, wrap my arm around you, let you feel the warmth of my body behind and the heat from the fire in front.”

Heat. Yes. Definitely feeling heat. Cheeks. Stomach. Core. You could almost feel him, arm tight around your stomach, hand pulling at your hair.

An inticing thought.

But Elliott was on a roll now.

“The bathroom!” He clapped his hands together as he said it, and you jumped just a little. “Of course. I’d stand behind you in front of the sink, watch you in the mirror as I took you. I could make you look at yourself as you came, whisper compliments in your ear, tell you how beautiful you looked, flushed and shaking. How incredible you felt, how good you were being. We’d have to be quiet - perhaps I’d put my fingers in your mouth, let you suck on them to muffle the noise.”

You realized with a start that your own fingers had drifted to your lips, had started tracing them unconsciously. You put your hand down quickly, sitting on it again.

Elliott didn’t notice. He was in his own world.

“Oh, or a toilet stall. Sordid thought, isn’t it? Such a small space. We’d have to stand. I’d take you from behind again, force you up against the cold metal. I could run my teeth along your shoulder, put my hand around your neck, whisper degrading things into your ear, how filthy you were to let me treat you like this, how desperate that you couldn’t wait for later, how you were being such a good little slut for me.”

If someone had asked you ten minutes ago if Elliott were capable of saying the word “slut,” you would have laughed in their face. You would have maintained that he didn't even know the word, that he existed on a plane where such language simply did not exist.

All you could do with your newfound knowledge was bite back a whimper.

He shifted. Took a breath. You noticed that he adjusted his jacket, pulling the bottom edge over his lap, concealing something.

It was comforting.

You were in this together.

Whatever this was.

His eyes met yours again. “What number were we on?”

“I have no idea.”

Elliott swallowed, nodded. “Two more, to be safe.”

You hummed in agreement.

His eyes passed yours, fell on a high back chair in the corner. “That chair.” His voice was breathier than you’d ever heard it. “I could flip it over, so the back was at an angle to the floor. Bend you over it, use my tie to lash your hands to the slats. You’d be helpless, wiggling, pulling against the ties as I knelt behind you, pleasured you with my mouth and fingers. It would be my decision how long you stayed there, how many times you climaxed. I’d wait to take you until you were limp and shaking, all reason gone, completely given over to my will.”

“Fuck,” you breathed, then slapped a hand over your mouth. Elliott’s gaze raked over you. His face looked like yours felt - flushed, eyes dark, lips parted, breath coming a little faster than one would expect while sitting down.

“Do you like that one?” he asked, soft.

You nodded, hand still over your mouth.

A flash of tongue, just a millisecond, as he licked his lips. Then, almost so quiet you missed it: “so do I.”

You stared at each other for a moment.

“One more,” he finally said.

You nodded.

He didn’t look away this time. “Bar stool. I’d bend you over it, tie your hands down at the bottom. It’d have your hips just high enough that you’d need to be on your toes to touch the floor. I’d spread you open, push a chilled bottle of wine inside of you. I’d watch you shiver from the cold, watch you twitch and shift from the intrusion, listen to you whimper. I’d press my hand on the small of your back as I pulsed the bottle into you, over and over, until the top had warmed from your heat. I’d open it, hold it over to your mouth, tell you to drink while I took you.”

“Fuck, Elliott!” You were practically curled into a ball, elbows on your knees, face in your hands. You could feel the heat in your cheeks.

Elliott let out a long breath. “I think that’s twelve,” he said. His voice was shaky. “That should… should prove my point.”

“Proven,” you agreed, voice muffled by your hands.

“Was… was that too much?”

You took a breath, lowered you hands, looked Elliott in the eyes. He was flushed red, eyebrows knit in worry. You shook your head, glad to see relief wash over his features. “I think…” you said slowly, “I think I see the advantages of your creative process.”

“I’m glad the spirit of the exercise came through.” Elliott picked up his wine glass, examined it. His fingers were shaking a little. “Despite any of my… sensibilities.”

You laughed, some breath finally starting to return to your voice. Sensibilities indeed.

You definitely weren’t going to look at the saloon the same way again.

And next book club?

You were absolutely going to be wearing a skirt.

Masterlist

[lvebug]

"oh!"   she laughs a shocked, delighted laugh that's ringing, bright, and unpolished as the object arcs through the air. it's only on instinct that andie catches the bag in her scrambling hands. henry has caught her by surprise in a couple ways—the toss only the most recent of them because she hadn't been expecting him at all, not quite so early.   "henry? you're a lovely surprise. it's good to see you, always."   her head tilts her head to the side and then forgoes decorum as well, rushing forward to squeeze him in a quick hug.

the pouch in her hands is a deep, soft purple. she separates from henry and with the careful attention paid to something important opens the drawstring. there are many magical bits that blow across the border on the winds from the lands of magic: a man with pointed ears and a face that is a little bit too long, flowers like glass that never whither or die, a kind of weave passed down through generations of araneans where fabric doesn't wrinkle or wear thin, stars looking out across the magic lands that wink back at you. of all the beautiful things that andie has witnessed in her life, the contents of this bag might be the most beautiful. gleaming iridescent pears like morning dew drops on leaves, and stones in an inspirational blue. items, she knows, that come from love. and that is their true beauty. she turns her eyes back to him.   "thank you, henry. these are beautiful."   her voice is soft, and she cradles the bag in her palms and close to her chest. a smile blooms.   "it well makes up for you missing my actual birthday."

she loops the strings of the bag through two of her fingers so that she can hold is secure in one hand and tuck the other into the crook of henry's arm, guiding him to walk with her.   "i could never avoid you. but the day is too beautiful to be bogged down by schedules. come, walk with me and tell me about your trip here."

@lvebug // x

  The halls of Araneae's castle, despite the lofty heights at which it sat so far above the plateau, had always struck Henry as an ideally humble sort. They were well kept of course, and decorated most notably with tapestries so fine they rippled like water as he passed — terrible covers, he'd learned long ago, for concealment when playing games of hide-and-seek. (However deep the space behind them, they danced the same when one so much as breathed near them, never mind stood behind them unable to stop from peeking around the edges...) But they weren't so ...grandiose in a fashion that could only be called excessive as some of the older kingdoms he had traveled tended to style themselves. The walkways in the castle as well as the streets beyond were close and comfortable, terraced on top of each other in a way that reminded him a great deal of home, despite the fact they were so far from the seas he knew.

  He took his time on his search. Drifting from window to window at a sedate walk well suited to a wander along the seashore. When he found what -that is who he was looking for, it was more of a stumbling-on than seeking-out. Henry's smile rolled forth. He dipped into the respectful half-bow right for them to trade (and right for him to begin, as the visiting party, deferring to the seat of home). And then –“Eyes aloft, your highness!”– he rose out of it early to surprise her. His arm swung, and something roughly cantaloupe-sized went gently arcing through the air: an expert toss.

  “It's good to see you,” he greeted, not so formal as he maybe ought to be by edict, but then not quite as familiar as he was among the rowdy rabble of his home. A happy, mischievous middle. He nodded toward the parcel he'd tossed. “For your last birthday. I was set to come, but the weather turned.”

  The little bag -for it was a bag that he'd tossed- was cloth of expensive make, dyed a rich purple in the tradition of Lathyae's court, though the drawstring closure was very utilitarian. Inside, nestled in a bed of more fabric and a few hanks of a shimmering green thread, sat a pile of pearls. The polished sort, purposefully rounded by the hands of a jeweler, and carefully strung on more shining thread, awaiting use as a necklace or adornment on a gown, so on. Whatever pleased her. As well, somewhere in there, Henry had added two flat, polished stones of a brilliant blue. These were the more rare of Lathyae's exports, said to bring luck and guidance to their owners.

  “Mother missed you at arrival. She might have come searching with me only.. other matters, and all. I do hope you weren't avoiding me on purpose?”

[wei-ying-kexing-apologist]

WYKA Gay Analysis Assembly, Part One

Hello, welcome to my blog! I am normal about my shows.

I will be updating this post as I write more, and the most recent show I am watching/writing about will be listed last (because of tumblr link limits on posts I'm going to have to . Please note that I do not put any of my essays behind a Read More, so if you don't like looking at long essays, feel free to mute the tag wyka long post. Please know my DMs and my Inbox are always open!

Gay Analysis Essays Part Two for essays on: Love in the Big City, The Miracle of Teddy Bear, Unknown, Dead Friend Forever, Love for Love's Sake, and Kiseki: Dear to Me

Check my progress on @bengiyo’s Queer Cinema Syllabus here

The Sign Feelings Made Visible: Design Choices in The Sign // Fantasy v. Reality in The Sign

Last Twilight Ep 1: Thoughts // Ep 1-2:  Reflections in Last Twilight // Ep 1-3: Physical Touch in Last Twilight // Ep 5: Thoughts on Last Twilight // Ep 12: Last Twilight and Ableism

Shadow Shadow thoughts // The Left Hand of God // Is Brother Anurak the One Armed Man? // What Happened to Trin? aka Paying Attention to my Favorite Straight Boy

I Feel You Linger in the Air Ep 8: Let's Talk About Sex: ESSAY #69!!!

Only Friends Academic Essay Series Only Friends, Boston, and Queer Culture // Only Friends and Respectable Promiscuity // Only Friends, Racism, and the Commodification of Queer Asians Everything else Ray and Rehab // Boston the Slut // Hypocrisy // Who is Mew, Anyway? // You're Mine No Matter What: The Commodification of Sand // Ep 6: Explosions // Ep 5: Fight Night // Poor Boy // Watch The Warp Effect before Only Friends // Misunderstanding Top?  // What the Fuck is Boeing Doing Here? // Only Friends Reflection

My Ride Rain, BL Boys, and Reciprocity // My Ride Finale

Be My Favorite Permanence in BMF // Lack of Touch in BMF

Cupid's Last Wish Trans Allegory in Cupid's Last Wish (in partnership with @so-much-yet-to-learn and @lurkingshan)

La Pluie Ep 6: Hands // Ep 7: Hands // Ep 8: The Language of Love // Ep. 8: Stray Thoughts // Subversion // Pee Peerawich Can Fucking Act // Connection // Ep 12: Body Language

Step by Step On the Subject of Pat- A Timeline // On the Subject of Pat 2.0- A Defense // Ep 7: Totally Normal // Ep 9: Lighting // Going Out- Sharing Space with the Unhoused // Compartmentalizing // Workplace Homophobia and Relationship Development Between Pat and Jeng

Our Skyy 2 OS2 x The Eclipse - Characterization //  OS2 x BB x ATOTS- Phupa and Queerness aka Damn You WMT // OS2 x BB x ATOTS- Validation! aka Phupa and Queerness- Part 2 // Pat, Pran, Losing Parental Relationships, and Sex

Our Dining Table Silence // Yutaka and Yukata

Bed Friend True Colors? // Uea and Red // Reflections + Uea and Yellow // Uea and Gray // Mommy Dearest 2.0 // Ep 7: Uea's Costumes // Bed Friend and Reflections- Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (this is my favorite of the parts) // Water, Songkran, and KingUea

Moonlight Chicken Heart Confrontation Scene // Heart and Li Ming Colors and Stripes // Red, Wen, and Blue // Naming the Deaf Character Heart // Heart's Communication // Wen's Badge Parallel // MTSL to ASL Index // Heart's Vocalization // Mommy Dearest // Isn't it Difficult to Be Born Poor? // Moonlight Chicken is for the Queers // Resolution // Heart's Signs Translated (this one is not mine, but I don't want to lose this post so I am placing it here) // Best Criers in MLC // Worst Parallel

Utsukushii Kare Self-Deprecation Harms Everyone

Our Flag Means Death Over-analyzing the Color Red // Silk as Symbolism for Ed's Heart

[fandom-friday]

Thank you so much to everyone that submitted recommendations this week! A comprehensive list of this week’s submissions can be found under the cut! Recommendations are organized by show/media, and any main pairings will be listed after the title.

🌊 = 18+ content

Fics:

The Clone Wars: Someday (Commander Cody x gn!Reader) by @dystopicjumpsuit Do Over by @toomanyteefs Like Suns Rise and Stars Fall by @varpusvaras 🌊 One Step at a Time by @wild-karrde Wrap-Around by helpivefallenandicantgetup (AO3)

The Bad Batch: 🌊 Fantasy Falls into Reality (Tech x f!Reader) by @eyeluvmusic21 Mayday, Mayday by @apocalyp-tech-a Confrontation by @eclec-tech

Star Wars Prequel Trilogy: Palo's Sketchbook (Padmé Amidala x Palo) by @findswoman

Batman: Breaking What is Already Fragile by FishFromMars (AO3) Last Wishes by a_rainbow_girl_detective (AO3) To Love What is Mortal by a_rainbow_girl_detective (AO3) Stolen Silk by a_rainbow_girl_detective (AO3) They Open Their Wings So Easily, And Fly by a_rainbow_girl_detective (AO3) Is Dick Grayson the Asshole? by clapclapwatchyourback (AO3) The Hearts of Gotham by @schrijverr Throughout Infinity by flumen (AO3) He's Ours Now by Lulu_Rythmea (AO3) Undercover by InvalidStuff (AO3) Patchwork Siblings by @raberbagirl Thursday's Child by @syntactition Not Unloved Anymore by @paper-sunflower-lane A Father's Wish by @alone77

The Murderbot Diaries: Via Solitude by FlipSpring (AO3) Abandoned Unit by Skits (AO3)

Fire Emblem: Three Houses The Winter Lady of Fraldarius (Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd x My Unit/Byleth) by @teecupangel

Crossover AUs: Of Snuggles and Ice Cream (Batman x Pokemon Crossover) by Shadeseeker44 (AO3) Greedy Bastards are Fox's Specialty (Star Wars x The Hobbit Crossover) by ByteMe (something_generic) (AO3)

Art:

The Clone Wars: Commander Fox Art by @rexxdjarin Captain Rex Art by @rexxdjarin Captain Rex Art by @peanuttoffee Rex has a New Workout Buddy by @omaano Breakfast is Ready by @pinkiemme Commander Thire Art by @wyvernsrus Commander Wolffe Art by @itzmoonstar

The Bad Batch: They Were Never Good with Words by @thattoothpick Captain Baja Blast by @blairaptor Hunter Art by @mesvi

Rebels: With a Look that Says "I Love You Too" by @tyquu

The Mandalorian: Din Djarin Art by @eggdrawsthings

Percy Jackson: Percy x Annabeth Art by @abreca Percy x Annabeth Art by @alexcopeman

Baldur's Gate 3: 🌊 An Embrace by @cleric4vampire

Crescent City Series: Perry Ravenscroft Art by elizianna.the.one (Instagram) So the Day falls in love with the Night by gabsgabx (Instagram)

A Court of Thorns and Roses Series: Azriel Art by luxury_banshee (Instagram) Elriel as Anakin and Padme (Azriel x Elain) by gessueter (Instagram)

[presidenthades]

Love ALL your fics!! I am, however, obsessed with Jaeron and their daughters!

What’s the family’s view on Morghon and Jeyne? Like Daemon is lowkey terrified of Joff (as he should be) whereas Viserys and Corlys have their “mutual grandfatherly blindness”.

Ohh especially the Hightowers view!!

Like do they all cower in terror before Morghon (having heard rumors about how she was conceived) and how she causes weird shit to happen and she’s just skipping around Oldtown and smelling the flowers and oh are those Lyseni silks!

Meanwhile Jeyne is just upset no one is cowering before her. They are in fact lavishing her with attention and how she looks JUST like Daeron when he was little, ignoring her many threats as childish fantasies and dressing her up in pink and she is actively trying to curse them, their mom and the city.

And maybe the reverse around the Targs, the men at least, who know sure Morghul is Valyrian witchy but Jeyne is the REAL terror!

And Jeyne just rolls her eyes at her weak uncles but then she comes back from Oldtown and “thank you some damn respect!” after making some poor courtier cry with a glance.

Ohh!! And then the Hightower’s come the court, and are like “where is our sweet Jeyne!” And everyone is the vicinity just runs away!

(Sorry for the run on!)

Full disclosure: the plans I have for Joff and Daeron in the main verse might be incompatible with the Adventures of Morghon and Jeyne. So I don’t know if our beloved twins will make it into the main fics. 😢 But it also means I’m happy to keep talking about headcanons for them, because no spoilers to be wary of!

In the main ASOIAF books, some of the Hightowers are up to witchcraft shenanigans in the tower, and it’s the Citadel who possesses the dragonglass candles in the first place. So let’s consider two types of Hightowers: the very pious kind (like Alicent), and the very witchy kind (like Malora in the main series).

The Pioustowers look askance at Morghon but also don’t really believe in all the sorcery rumors. The Witchtowers love her and heartily believe in all the sorcery rumors.

As for Jeyne, the Pioustowers are prepared to lavish her with girly presents but are thrown off when she throws a tantrum. Morghon loves all the lace and dolls, so the Pioustowers decide she isn’t so bad, but they’re still wary. Meanwhile the Witchtowers are puzzled by Morghon’s lack of interest in the occult, so they hang out with Jeyne more often.

Great-Uncle Gwayne knows very well which twin is interested in which things, but he likes to mess with them by pretending to mix them up.

[lvebug]

andie, to jamie's credit, is also unaware of the identity of the man standing before her. (though that is possibly more understandable when one considers the faster turnaround of kingship in castremam). her lessons in diplomacy have always been some of the easiest because diplomacy does not begin and end with those of noble standing—a friendly greeting, an ear willing to listen, understanding another's perspective, all things andie excels at. it's the strategy, the tactics and decorum that she's never quite understood in the same way. 

"it's lovely to meet you jamie of castremam."  even though this isn't a diplomatic visit, adequate research had been done before her visit. it's just as serious to make a bad impression as it is important to make a good one and nobody involved in keeping araneae running was going to allow for her to make a bad impression. which is the long way of saying that she does hear the implied of castremam, and knows its significance.  "your kingdom is beautiful."  perhaps not quite his, not yet, but to be, if she understands catremamain culture correctly. "my travels were well, thank you. long, but well. do you think you could point me towards a place to stay?"

Diplomacy is not Jamie's strong suit. It never has been. That's the downside of becoming Prince – suddenly, you have to remember the names of dozens of kingdoms, and hundreds of royals, and thousands of specialties. All he needed to know beforehand was how to swing a sword, how to knock an arrow, how to keep his hair from getting in his eyes when he's fighting.

All that to say her name is unfamiliar to him. He hasn't picked up on the diplomacy yet. Paddy's been practically begging him to learn, Pep's been trying to teach him, but Jamie hasn't absorbed it. Luckily, Paddy still has his strength; Jamie hasn't defeated him in a fight, even sparring, even behind closed doors, not yet. He still has time to learn.

"Good place t'come t'try the honey," he concedes. Sure, he's not very well travelled, but he knows from his experience - and Pep and Paddy's words - that Castremamian honey is unlike any other in the rest of the world. "Jamie," he finally answers her question. No surname. Just Jamie. Of Castremam is implied when he only gives a given name, but he's not sure if that is known to an outsider. "Of Castremam," he adds, just to be safe. "Were your travels well?"

[evermourning]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 - kim seungmin

pairing: kim seungmin x reader (bewitched series pt. 4)

genre: angst, hurt/no comfort, non!idol au

wc: 1.1k

warnings: not proofread AT ALL, language, hallucination, mentions of nausea/feelings of nausea, mentions of smoking, unrequited love, you may hate me for this

a/n: don't smoke kids!

when you ended your relationship with kim seungmin, your one true love, you made an unyielding oath that you would never give a shit about ex-boyfriends.

this became unfortunately impossible when every waking moment you were wallowing in your own guilt and self-despair, dreaming desperately about the love you once had. it was like seungmin had taken a paintbrush, and with long languid strokes, drowned every crevice, nook, and cranny of your brain with the memories of him.

even living in this town was unbearable, seeing him from afar laughing and smiling as if he was utterly unaffected by your tragic romance. you eventually decided to fly back to your hometown just to get away from him. you were lucky you could.

the entire flight, sailing tranquilly through deep blue skies where the stars were much more visible than the city lights, you sat there, engulfed in your own pitiful delusion.

we never did say goodbye, did we? it was more of a "see you soon", it had to be. no, kim seungmin is a terrible influence who will only make your life progressively worse. that's what he aspires to, after all. but what if he were to call me up? i don't know if he has me blocked, but i have him unblocked. you know, in case he ever decides he still needs me.

it was like an infectious cancer, slowly integrating itself into your system, this feeling of hurt and confusion and disarray. damn it, it really fucking hurt to have to just act like nothing happened. you were at your absolute weakest, but still had to act like you could carry the world on your back.

it hurt more that you were alone, without the boy who was your anchor in murky waters.

...

once you arrived in your hometown, you had this stupid idea that you would just wake up a new person, the memories of him simply wiped from your brain. however, every morning was just as painful as the last, the painful evocation of his being like a pure white tablecloth irreparably stained with the deep flushed burgundy of red wine.

for sixteen long days you fought unbearable urges to just grab your phone, calling him while sobbing profusely. for sixteen long days you laid awake at night, staring at the ceiling, too haunted by him to sleep peacefully. for sixteen long days you wondered if you were the problem.

you'd found methods to shut him out that were not as great as you hoped. you'd taken up smoking, much to your parents' dismay. you knew deep down it was a horrid decision that was most likely going to haunt you later, but you didn't care. after restraining yourself emotionally and mentally for so long, maybe a cigarette was what you needed. however, the nagging voice in your head painstakingly reminded you that to you, smoking was just like this boy you hopelessly loved: no matter how long you resisted and fought the temptation, you would always lose. a true trait of an embarrassing romantic, desperately caught in the silk threads of an ex-lover's web.

why couldn't you let go? seungmin had brought you nothing but trouble. every single time you even saw him, there was this feeling in your gut of all these emotions jumbled together. was it longing? was it hate? was it hurt? was it love? you tried and tried and tried to scrutinize said emotions under some sort of psychological microscope, but they always ended up in some colorless, misshapen blob.

in your head, you tried every situation possible. in the confines of your mind, where the only thing holding you together was your imagination and sheer delusion, you and seungmin lived happily ever after. but that was the confines of your mind, a fantasy inside a prison. in the real world, you and seungmin were a pair of star-crossed lovers, fated to love once and never again, swathed in tragedy.

it was in the back of your mind, what you could've been, would've been, two twin ghosts, staring blankly, their piercing ebony orbs drilling symmetrical holes into your skull.

and then, you saw the boy.

he started appearing everywhere, from various distances, always staring silently. no emotion was on his face other than pure, unbridled contempt. his stature and appearance were fucking identical to seungmin. yet he never talked. it was a reminder of your past.

the boy appeared again, and again, and again, and again, and again...and again.

you couldn't take it anymore. tears streamed down your cheeks, pooling on your linen sheets as you pulled out your phone to frantically dial in a number you had memorized to a t.

kim seungmin, your end and your beginning, your problem and your solution, picked up approximately after the third or fourth ring.

"hello? yn, is that you?" you took a deep breath, not even paying attention to how your hands had become unstable and shaky.

"yeah, it's me. how are you doing?" you asked, testing the waters. were they still choppy, filled with jagged rocks and sharks? or had they become more moderate and mild during this horrid separation?

"i'm good. you know, i saw that you called me, and i wasn't even nervous or anything. this time away from you really helped me heal. i guess we just weren't right for each other." the words were like a spear, impaling your guts as they spewed everywhere.

"really?" you asked, your volume significantly lower as you recovered from the shock. you fumbled around in your bag for a cigarette and your lighter, desperate for some comfort.

"yeah, haha." a higher, feminine voice could be heard saying something unintelligible to seungmin on the other side of the phone. "oh, shit...i gotta go. my girlfriend needs me. i'll see you around, okay? i noticed i haven't seen you in like two weeks, which is unusual. bye, now."

and then he hung up.

he hung up, leaving you dumbfounded, sitting on your bed with an unlit cigarette. that was when the overwhelming wave of nausea came, and you rushed to the bathroom.

for sixteen long days, pieces of the person you once knew yourself as withered away and crumbled to dust. and in those very same sixteen days, which each felt like an entire timeline, seungmin completely moved on, unaffected, and found himself a replacement.

you really shouldn't have called. you wouldn't have.

but you broke your promise. and unbeknownst to you, that was the very first domino. it would fall and fall and fall until you had single-handedly ruined your own life.

isn't that just fucking pathetic?

...

@evermourning, ©2023. all rights reserved.

[kiliinstinct]

Magnetism: Xiaother One Shot

Series: Genshin Impact Pairing: Aether/Xiao ( m/m ) Rating: T for Teen - Setting: Royalty/Masquerade AU - Fantasy Setting A03: [ link ] Aether's Outfit Inspired By: [Rueleaf]

Not going to lie- this universe may end up having a series of one shots because of the amount of ideas I have for it. We'll see. Special thanks to @genavere for being my Beta!

---

The mask weighed heavily on Aether’s hip, unlike the brown and gold one his sister diligently placed upon his face. Its intricate design framed his face as golden bangs fell over the lace that secured it. The one he wore was a fine mask: hand-crafted and expensive with an elegant design meant to match his coat and flowing sleeves. The one on his belt, however. hummed with a power that pulled the attention of every onlooker in the vicinity.

 Every gaze felt heavy on his shoulders, and an uncomfortable shudder ran down his spine.

“Why do they keep looking at me?” he whispered, hissing to Lumine with all the subtlety of a running waterfall. Her answering sneer as she placed her own, moon shaped mask against her nose was all the answer he needed.

“You're the one who decided to keep it,” she said, motioning towards the pulsing accessory. 

Unlike him, her only mask was on her face and matched the pale hues of her dress that hugged her curves and elongated down the back in a feathery train. Aether couldn't help but wish the stares aimed at them were for her beauty rather than him.  She deserved it, after all. With her light blonde hair and golden eyes, his sister set a fetching image against the backdrop of the Palace Gardens. 

That was nothing to say of his own suit set in the same brown and golds as his mask, and covered his shoulders and doublet before cascading silk down his back. If not for the humming accessory being an obvious attention draw, he would have assumed the both of them were hard to ignore.

But Lumine’s words pulled a grimace along his lips, shrugging helplessly at the claim. She was right, of course. He could have denied the mask he brought along with him; could have kept it wrapped in the silk linens it had been purchased in, and kept tucked safely at the bottom of his clothes trunk. 

Could was the operative word, and while the stares he garnered did make him question his choices, he knew the truth. If he'd left it behind, he wouldn't have made it five feet from his bedroom that morning. It's call was too strong to ignore, and it simply wouldn't let him leave without it.

"Hu Tao did say these things have a mind of their own," he said sheepishly, gaze lingering on everything but Lumine's tacit face. While his avoidance was obvious, he'd never been so deep in Liyue Harbor's city before. Its glowing lanterns and tall structures were beautiful to behold, giving him the perfect excuse to continue dodging her every attempt to meet his gaze. If only they had arrived earlier in the day, he would have loved to explore before the Masquerade began.

Unfortunately, he was late to wake that morning. Aether refused to admit it was from his own lack of sleep, not wishing to worry Lumine over the extent of his building dreams as of late. The haunting images of shadows he couldn’t recognize and a terrible shriek of pain in his ears left his nights restless and his body difficult to rouse when the sun finally rose.

Nightmares aside, their morning had been a rush of breakfast, packing, and ensuring their own outfits were carefully toted away for later use. The small town funeral director who had allowed them room and board was just as quick on their heels, ushering them onto the road to make it on time. 

”This isn't a party you want to be late to,“ she declared, eyes whirling in earnest unlike her usual, lackadaisical manner. They'd only known her for a few months, but Aether had the distinct feeling she was hiding something.

”Oh! And Aether,“ she said just before the twins had shut the carriage door behind them.” Make sure everyone can see that pretty mask of yours!“

”Isn't that the point of a masquerade?“ he questioned, holding up the half-mask he'd chosen for his finery. 

”Of course, and it matches so well,“ she cooed, reaching out to poke his nose. ”But that's not the one I meant!“

Not for the first time did Aether attempt to ask her about the horned mask, but the shorter woman slammed the door shut and sent the carriage off before he could ask again. All he recalled was her low and cryptic humming as they rode away. And while he considered stopping the cart to chase her down for an explanation, the sensation of a shadow looming just behind kept him seated. That strange sensation was happening a lot lately. Another reason for Aether’s refusal to talk about his nightmares. Not only did he sense it watching him daily, but it cast a horrendous figure that loomed over his bedside deep in the night. His first night witnessing it left him staring into the empty spaces of his room in shock, unaware of his sister’s worried whispers into his ear when she found him staring into empty space. She later claimed to have felt a presence over them that felt suffocating, but he couldn’t remember such a feeling. In fact, to her surprise, he admitted to feeling an odd comfort radiating from it. As if he’d gained a protector during the night.

Strangely enough, the appearance of the shade even chased off the dreams that plagued him, making it a welcome presence despite the ominous entry. Nights were easier when he sensed it around following that occurrence. 

”I still think you should have trashed it," Lumine said from across the carriage, eyes narrowed at the offending object on his lap.

There was no point in responding, so he didn't. It was already too late, after all, and the thought of throwing the heavy mask out only served to twist his stomach into knots. 

Even now as they explored the gardens of Liyue Palace, too enthralled by the courtyard to enter the main hall, Aether felt the mask hum at his side. 

There was an air of mystery about it that left him off-kilter, but the weight felt familiar. Like a security blanket. It reminded him of the dreamless nights when the shadow would hover in the corner or the warmth of a hug when the evening wind brought a chill. And while its teal  black hues felt colder than his brown and gold dressings, he simply felt naked without it.

The pointed horns looked far harsher than his wispy golden feathers. A stark contrast in comparison, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Though, with how Hu Tao had urged him to keep it close and the lingering gazes of the other guests that continued to follow his every step, he wished he had studied more regarding Liyue's customs.

”Are you sure we didn't learn anything about Liyue before coming here?“ he asked Lumine, giving her a side eye as she examined a nearby patch of glaze lilies.

”I know as much as you do," was her breezy reply, glancing back at him, ”or did you forget that, too?“

He flushed, ashamed. ”No! I remember that much!“

Grimacing at his hurt expression, guilt assuaged her features, ”Sorry- that was insensitive.“

No further commentary was needed. Aether's shoulders relaxed, accepting her sincerity with ease. He couldn't blame her for the accusation. The holes in his memory for the last three months wasn't something either of them could ignore. He expected some snappiness, but her concert was tantamount to hovering at this point. But he still kept making decisions that made her worry. 

The mask being one of those many decisions.

After he'd been found along the riverbank, unconscious and waterlogged, just south of Qingce Village, the memory of how he arrived there was choppy. It had only been by the grace of Hu Tao, who'd been convinced she'd found a corpse, that he was able to recuperate in peace. 

Lumine was a different story. Since his disappearance, she had frantically searched for days, convinced she’d lost him in the depths of a country they were strangers to. When she made it to the village, begging any passerby to look out for her brother, it was only by pure chance Hu Tao had overheard her before she gave up hope. 

Lumine learned that not only had Hu Tao brought him safely to a healer, but had fixed him up with a place to sleep in the loft of her own home.  (The fact it was connected to a funeral parlor did nothing to ease Lumine’s growing concerns.)

Unfortunately, when Aether awoke, sore from head to toe, he and the others were disappointed to find he couldn't remember a thing. The dark void where his memories should have been left an empty echo in his mind, almost teasing him with the knowledge that wasn't there. Not only that, but a strange, gripping sensation pulled at his heart each time he attempted to fill in the void. 

Physically, his body was healed, but something else singed along the edges of his soul. As far as he could remember, he’d never kept secrets from his sister, but this was something he dutifully kept to himself, uncertain how to bring it up. 

”We were supposed to be meeting with someone at Wangshuu Inn.“ Lumine had told Hu Tao after he'd awoken, ”but we've missed the meeting time by several days now. I doubt they're still waiting for us.“

Hu Tao was a weird one, having merely grinned at the information and sang a little tune under her breath. She airily waved her arms about, clicking her tongue as she glanced out the window towards the direction of the marshes. 

“Well, to get to the palace, we'd have to cross through the marshes, right by the inn,” she told them. “But no matter! You can stay here as long as you need and we'll decide where to go when you're ready!”

The amount of food she was willing to share was more than enough to convince him, but Lumine held back, gauging Aether's health before relenting, and it didn't matter how much she poked and prodded, he still couldn't fill in the gaps. But he was more than grateful for Hu Tao's offer. It was nice to have a friend in a foreign country. No matter Lumine’s wariness, even she had to admit that gaining a new ally in their trek across Liyue was a godsend. It gave them hope for their mission, now put on hold due to Aether’s condition. Fortunately, figuring out where they'd go from there became simpler not even a month and a half later.  

While in town, Aether came across a mask that hummed with dark energy. From the window of the tawdry trading post, it called to him, and filled him with a burning need. At the time, he couldn’t explain what led him to that shop in particular, but later realized he’d been drawn there from the start of his morning; pulled by a feeling in his gut that just knew where he needed to go with very little reason behind it. 

He entered the shop without a second thought, all but rushing towards the mask with every intention to barter for it until he was blue in the face. Anything to secure it as his property. Instead, he was stunned when the trader practically stuffed it into his arms and refused to accept any proper payment for it.

“If it called to you, then it was mean for you to take,” he exclaimed, seemingly glad to be rid of it. 

While Aether had tried to argue, guiltily reaching for his coin pouch to give anything to the trader in return, he was ushered back out the doors before he could blink. He could hardly believe the encounter and after a few puzzled seconds, he shrugged the nagging feeling away and inspected his free gift.

Its silk wrapping was designed with hand stitched floral edges: Qingxin Flowers he guessed. It was a thick, shining fabric that looked far too opulent for a small shop like that and the mask weighed heavily in his hands. Almost as if the item itself was refusing to be released. If he looked at it just right under the light, he could have sworn he saw a strange aura surrounding it. 

Hu Tao had whistled and danced at the sight of it, exclaiming it was their ticket into the Palace of Liyue. “Whoever you had to meet is most likely there, and this mask will get you right into their Masquerade Ball without any problems!”

“... and why is that?” Lumine's frown deepened when the funeral director waved off her question, claiming it was traditional not to speak too in depth of such matters.

“All will be clear when you get there,” she assured them. “Just wait and see!”

It did little to make the two feel better, but as time drew nearer to the ball, Aether began to trust in the Director's words and kept the mask on him at all times. 

Lumine hated it from the moment she saw it, and now that they were finally viewing the Harbor for the first time from behind their own hand-made coverings, that opinion had changed very little. She made a show of standing on his right, opposite to the foreboding energy that hummed on his hip. 

“It just...feels sinister to me." She tried to explain on the four day carriage ride to the Harbor. "Can't you sense it?“

Even now as Aether walked by another group of partygoers - who fell silent by his approach- he couldn't say he didn't agree with her. Whatever gave the mask its foreboding energy that sparked beneath his fingers at every touch, it certainly wasn't good. But he couldn't bring himself to fear it. The moment he'd found it in that window, he'd been drawn to it, and leaving it behind was comparable to losing the rest of his memories.

”It called to me,“ he explained earnestly the day he got it. Aether recalled their joint confusion over the matter and the sudden determination deep in his bones that demanded he keep it. “It's mine.“

Hu Tao had agreed, stating that whoever set it in that window, had intended for it to reach Aether's hands from the very beginning.

There was a mystery surrounding it, one that Lumine wanted to solve, convinced there was something untoward being planned. If their roles had been reversed, Aether may have felt the same. Instead, he realized while passing a third group, moving to stand by an elegant fountain in the center of the gardens, he only felt secured. 

Whatever happened, he decided, it was meant to be. And if someone meant for him to have this mask, then maybe he'd learn the truth at this very party.

”- look, he has the mask of the Yaksha-“ He caught the soft whispers of someone to his left and whirled his attention towards them, eyes wide.

“Shhh! Not so loud!” Another quieted them and a few onlookers shuffled off.

That word...he was certain he'd heard it somewhere before. His brows scrunched together in thought as he delved through his memories, only to stop short as the attempt caused a stab of pain to shoot behind his eyes; Lips pulled into a thin frown and he turned to Lumine ready to ask if she recognized the term. 

The absolute horror that paled her features, the whites of her eyes visible even as they flitted between him, the mask, and the many onlookers. All of it confirmed his suspicions as he tried to put this new puzzle piece into his disjointed memory.

“We learned about them before coming here,” he surmised, head pounding from the strain. “I'm not crazy?”

“We did.” The way she spoke through her teeth rang bells in his mind. He began recounting every detail he remembered of Liyue before they'd left Khaenri’ah, ticking them off on his fingers one by one:

A city governed by the Adepti; Illuminated beasts that walked in human and animal form.

Many walked the streets among humans with hints of their heritage decorating their clothes or their own features. But the strongest of them all, a Dragon who mastered the Element of Geo. He stood above all as their Emperor. This God of the Adepti was the very reason Aether and Lumine had struck out for Liyue in the first place.

Aether frowned as he sifted through his memories—the word Yaksha meant something and was connected to the Adepti, he was sure of it. “A Yaksha is-“

“The Guardian Adepti of Liyue,” Lumine bit out through her teeth the obvious answer, “Rex Lapis’ chosen soldiers that defend the regional lines and absorb the malice of demons and dead gods alike.” Fixing him with a pointed stare, she added, “We were warned to be on our best behavior when around them. They’re known for being adept killers who go insane from the karma they build up!”

That's right , recollection settled back in and he relaxed, but none of that answered the question shifting in his ribcage: If he'd learned about Yaksha before coming to Liyue, why did it feel as if he were fishing it out of the void? 

“I think,” he began, feeling his throat fill with molasses, “I think I may have met one.”

”Really?“ While it sounded like a question, the way Lumine grasped his wrist and  dragged him through the crowd said otherwise. They ended beneath the shade of the largest tree, away from the crowds  and those looking for gossip. 

Aether couldn’t help himself, he automatically looked up into the branches overhead, eyes peering through the golden leaves from branch to branch with a wistful pain in his chest. The branches were strong, strong enough to sit upon with -... with what? With whom? Distracted by the faintest whisper of a memory, he almost missed Lumine’s sudden movement towards the humming mask, her intentions clear.

He twisted his hip away reflexively and smacked her hand away with a frustrated squawk. “What are you doing?”

“You somehow got your hands on a Yaksha Mask, Aether!“ she hissed, frustration seared through her words as she made another attempt for it. A short scuffle erupted between them as both twins muttered beneath their breaths and tried to overcome the other. He was determined to keep it safe. Desperate even, but Lumine’s desperation matched his own as she struggled to do the only thing she could think of to keep him from further harm. “Hand it over! I knew we should never have kept it!”

“Do you really think Hu Tao would have let me keep it if it was dangerous?” he reasoned, yanking the mask off his hip to hold it over their heads. Unfortunately, they were too even in height and he had to move to his tip toes just to avoid her grasping fingers. Dark energy throbbed through his fingers from the mask, numbing the pads, but he ignored it. 

Don’t let her have it - the thought rang through his head in a garbled voice that wasn’t his own, a familiar rasp that haunted his dreams.

“We don't know that!” she bit out. 

That pulled his attention back and he noticed the panicked fear simmering in her golden eyes. 

Her voice lowered an octave, pleading with him to listen as her eyes blinked repeatedly. Aether realized, in horror, that his sister was on the verge of crying and all his instincts to protect her warred against the rest of him, “Aether please; Khaenri’ah is in danger of being invaded by the Abyss. And the moment we set out to get help, you’re attacked and lose your memory! What if they’ve already picked a side? What if… “

She inhaled sharply, squeezing her eyes shut to hold back her unbidden tears. After a few breaths, they opened again, gold and sharp, begging for him to listen.

“What if you lost your memories because you angered one of them?" She continued, voice terse. "What if they're looking for you? What if that mask leads them right to you? We can't risk-”

“Yes." Lumine was stubborn, but so was he. "We can.” His hard-headed resolve battled her fear until it broke through and grounded them in place. The mask stayed held above them until she relented, shoulders sagging with a heavy sigh, and a calm expression—merely a facade, they both knew—melted along the edges of her pinched eyes. He worried she'd chew through her lip the way she gnawed on it, and unthinkingly, set the mask atop his head (jostling his own slightly out of place) to smush her cheeks.

“Healing me, giving us a place to stay, helping to get us here safely…If anyone wanted to hurt me, they had plenty of chances to do it before now,” he whispered, tweaking her nose when she pouted. “Can you trust me, at least?”

Her answering whine was the agreement he needed. 

“That's cheating,” she claimed, reaching out to pinch his cheeks in return. 

He flicked her nose again and laughed. “As long as it worked!” Their matching grins helped ease the tension between them. Feeling a little better, he nodded towards the courtyard exit, “Can we go in now?” He was anxious to finally step foot inside the palace. 

Lumine's consent came with a slap to Aether's shoulder and the twins laughed as if all was right in the world once more. 

As they emerged from the shade, the two fussed over the others' hair and clothes, straightening them out from the earlier scuffle. Amusingly, Aether almost forgot to move the Yaksha mask back to his hip, remembering it only after a few onlookers' jaws had dropped. Realizing what the added weight upon his head was about, he sheepishly moved it back to his side, unaware of the new whispers building around him.

Everyone, no matter who they passed, continued to give him a wide berth, as if getting too close would burn them. Was it the mask itself, he wondered? The energy that ebbed and flowed was a gentle call beckoning him to move along through the crowd. Feeling rushed yet moving far too slow. It wanted him to go inside, that much he knew. He held that fact against his chest, guilty of hiding it from Lumine.

There were things he couldn't say out loud. Not just yet. The mask was the key to his memories, he was certain of that. And the looming shadow that watched his every move tickled the edges of each empty space. 

A normal person would fear the shade, but not Aether. Like a moth to a flame, he wanted to follow its lead until he reached his destination, whatever end that might be.

If he'd mentioned that, however, Lumine may have never allowed him to enter the palace, let alone the Harbor City. In fact, Aether knew she would have turned them both back on the road towards home, refusing to finish what they started. 

The mere thought of backing down despite their attempts to ally their homeland with the Lord of Geo left a sour taste in his mouth. He understood Lumine's over protective fear and loved her for it. But he couldn't let it interfere with their plans...or have it keep him from finally meeting the one who sent him the mask. 

Was a Guardian Yaksha dangerous? All the stories said as much. And the crowd's reaction proved it better than any story read in a book, but Aether's instincts were strong. If he felt no fear, no hint of danger, then his destination was as clear as the sun in the sky. 

He'd enter this Masquerade and, with Lumine by his side, they would both get what they were there for. One way or another. 

That was one truth Aether was certain of.

When the twin travelers from afar entered the Palace Great Hall, Alatus Nemeseos stood beside the Emperor's Throne with a stiff back and ears buzzing with a pounding headache. 

Over the last three months the migraine had persisted, oftentimes rendering him all but useless in his day-to-day tasks. His kin had willingly covered for him during his time of recuperation, even going as far to take his place patrolling the border, at times.  When the pain had ebbed to a small drumbeat that could be ignored, he'd resumed his duties protecting his Emperor, determined not to be of ill-use.

Only today, it had returned with a vengeance at the sun's rise, and the height of its attack began to stab like a thousand needles behind his eyes. The only saving grace that kept him in place was his well practiced ability to remain stoic. 

Adopting a pose that offered the best view of the gathered crowd, Alatus ensured it would hinder even the most observant to see the pain through. That left him relying on the party mask to hide the visible effects. 

Not for the first time since he'd given up his true mask did he wish for its return. Not only would his pain be nullified upon its recovery, but a heart he'd long thought dead and lost would be with him again, as well. 

It wasn't often a Yaksha formed a soul bond; even rarer was it for Alatus, Conqueror of Demons, to turn his head for anyone. Yet, he had, and the splitting pain against his skull was a constant reminder of his failure to protect the first bond he’d ever attempted. It left a sickening taste in the back of his mouth that festered by the day. 

He attributed the loss of the bond mere minutes after forming it to a case of bad karma. The irony  was not lost on him. 

Each of the Lord of Geo's guardians were well-known for their battle prowess and capabilities of protecting the border of Liyue, but even more well-known was the negative energy they absorbed over time with every kill—their karmic debt. If he were anyone else, he would have found the scenario bitterly hilarious. 

Grimacing behind his false mask—a poor replica of the one he'd released to find his intended, Alatus resisted the ever-present pain, and continued to watch attendees approach to greet the Lord of Geo: Emperor Rex Lapis, or Morax, as the people of Liyue knew him.

The line was non-stop, yet every now and again there would be a blissful few seconds of silence as one group was held back to give Rex Lapis a small break. This break served Alatus just as well. It was a moment he could relax his shoulders, inhale deeply to calm his nerves and allow his careful facade to fall away: if only for a second. This respite was a boon before the storm of greetings began again. 

A second that did not go unnoticed by his Lord. Morax angled his head just enough for his sharp, intellectual gaze to peer upon Alatus in muted concern. “...is it too much, Xiao?”

The question and casual drop of his true name sparked his attention. He peered through the openings of his mask, hoping it covered his pain better than he could. 

“I can take it,” he rasped, voice dropping to a whisper. “But, my Lord, you should use my title.”

Blinking back a stinging tear as another wave of pain wracked his frame, Alatus swept his gaze back to the crowd as he continued,. “You know better than I that it's unsafe to reveal our true names to just anyone. Others could overhear.”

Rex Lapis' smile beneath his mask was just as sharp as his gaze, ”I wouldn't worry about that. You're vigilant, even in pain, but I wish you'd take a break.“

“I can't,“ Xiao replied tersely. ”I've taken enough time off, as is.“

“Working in the palace while Bosacious and the others cover the border is not taking a break,“ Rex Lapis chided, sighing as he waved another group forward to speak with him. “...I will not stop you if you leave for fresh air. I am fully capable of defending myself, if need be.“

The denial was on Xiao's lips before he could stop himself. “I would never-” but the next pang struck against his eyes, blurring his vision and silencing him instantly. Through grit teeth, he kept his watch, trembling fingers gripping his polearm in a desperate attempt to ground himself. 

If only time would move faster, maybe then he could finally rest and this blasted headache would settle to its regular dull roar. He steeled himself as the seconds ticked by and almost fell into quiet meditation to escape the pain. In those slow moments, he felt the damaged bond inside his being and examined the tug of his karmic energy.

While he couldn't locate his mask, he could still feel it, as if it were an extension of himself. He could tell its current bearer was alive, but he couldn't pinpoint their location. In his weakened state, keeping focus on the connection was excruciating. Which is exactly why he was stunned when he mentally reached out and recognized the brimming of his own power echoing back from across the hall.  

Blood turned to ice and a chill of silent, desperate hope ran up his spine. Was this the reason behind his headaches increasing in frequency? Was he finally done waiting?

Those nearby saw the change in the Vigilant Yaksha's presence. Once still as a statue, he now looked upon the room with eyes glowing, brimming with a suffocating amount of power. 

Magic filled the air around him in a whirlwind of chaos. Alarmed shouts and concerned murmurings created a pitch of white noise at the core.. Hair whipped against his pointed ears, tickling the skin as the air currents moved with his energy. Like a dog on the hunt, he searched the crowd, scanning over the many heads in hopes of finding a glint of gold in a sea of intricate masks. 

With his entire being focused on finding his soul bond, it took several seconds for Xiao to realize that someone was speaking to him. Rex Lapis, his voice a low, curious command, pulled him back and the howling power dulled instantly. 

Xiao bowed his head. “I—sorry, I shouldn't have-!”

“Go.“

The command was simple. Final. His voice cut through Xiao's shame, his hand lifted to pause anyone  approaching. They could wait a few more seconds. 

The Emperor no longer looked upon Xiao with kind, concerned eyes that could pinpointed every crack in his armor. Instead he viewed Xiao as one would an erring child: eyes narrowed and lips drawn into a fine line.His order gave no room for arguments.

“My…” Xiao stumbled over his words, confused, “My lord?”

Rex Lapis softened gaze through the openings of his own opulent, gold dragon mask as he gestured through the hall, “He's here, isn't he? You sensed it.”

There was no point in denying or confirming what was already clear. A disgruntled sound escaped Xiao's throat as he resisted every instinct that screamed inside him to leave. His chosen was here, amidst the crowd. So close and yet... and yet-

Rex Lapis' voice broke through his thoughts again, voice reverberating off the stone halls as he commanded the very essence they were created from. “I said: Go.”

Xiao didn't need to be told a third time, body relinquishing control to his baser instincts. His power rose and flowed around him, again and in a wave of teal energy and wind, he dispersed from the crowd, unseen, as he moved to follow the ever constant tug of his heart. 

'I'm coming, Aether!'

-

It was like walking through a fine mist when they entered the hall. What once looked to be an opulent room full of gold and marble columns and a beautiful skylight etched in cor lapis frames, fell to a babbling brook surrounded in fog.  The sudden change was disorienting as Aether felt himself lose his grip on reality as he sank into a hollow memory.

His steps slowed as he took in the surroundings, eyes narrowed as the dense fog kept him from peering through the thick trees. It was a scene both familiar and foreign to him, though how he knew it remained a mystery to him. Reflexively, he reached out for Lumine, and was startled when his hand grasped thin air.   “Lumine-?” He called, voice on the edge of panic, “Lumine where are you? I can’t…”

He reached for her again with mounting desperation as his breaths grew more shallow at each attempt. Whipping his head from side to side, he tried to find a hint of his sister. Perhaps she’d simply walked further than him to inspect the area? Maybe if he moved forward he’d grab hold and-

Nothing. He couldn’t find her. Not in this strange place. Not anywhere. His hand fell to his side and he inhaled a deep, shuddering breath to calm himself. If he or she were lost, she’d find him. He knew this. All he had to do was wait and carefully examine his surroundings. Yes, that’s it. That’s exactly what he’d do. With a goal in mind, he looked upon the area with fresh eyes. 

If not for the oppressive atmosphere, the stream would be beautiful. The leaves and horse tails that littered the bank outlined peaceful, crystal clear waters. The sun above him was a muted, gentle heat- or should have been, but even that was masked by the fog. 

He knew this place, but it was wrong, unfinished. Like a broken puzzle with too many missing pieces. He spied footprints in the mud, one pair belonging to him and the other... 

A spark of something struck his mind and he winced, eyes watering from the pain. The haunting shade he'd felt before loomed ever closer, urging him closer to the precipice of knowledge he couldn't fully grasp.

Someone else was supposed to be there... They had met at the water's edge many times before since Aether had crossed the border. That day they had revealed themselves in their entirety, urging Aether forward with an outstretched hand, and an offer that filled his soul to bursting. He wanted to take the offer, to soar the skies, to hold this person's hand and-

“ther-...Aether?” Lumine's voice shattered the waters, brushed away the fog, and illuminated the ballroom once more. His breath caught and he nearly stumbled at the sudden change of scenery. Looking behind him, he noticed they were only just past the entrance, and his nerves sparked along his skin. The beginning of a headache thrummed behind his eyes, wet with tears. 

“I-“” Aether paused, mid-sentence, unaware of what he was trying to say. His voice sounded strange, even to him, rasping and hoarse as emotions broiled inside him. “I'm all right- I just...I thought I saw something.”

She gripped his hand, their knuckles white from the force they used to hold onto each other, especially after what he said.  That was when he realized the thin air he'd felt before had only been a trick of the mind. He knew what she was going to say before a syllable could leave her lips.

“I'm fine,” he assured her with a smile not reaching his eyes. “I think it was a memory.”

When she tried to ask again, he shook his head, motioning towards the crowd currently dancing and mingling around them. Now wasn't the time. Understanding, she loosened her hold and the two finally drifted through the ocean of dancing, masked strangers. 

It was easier to move through them with the mask on Aether's hip. As if sensing the accessory, other party-goers would move aside, giving them a wide berth as his approach. While the twins were well-trained in greeting masses of citizens back home, the customs of Liyue differed in subtle ways. Most attendees milled about, chatting with friends or family. Others spoke in garbled jargon towards the city's economy that Aether and Lumine could never hope to understand without ample time to study. 

However, one mass of onlookers did not move at the sight of Aether's mask, blocking the way  through the middle of the hall. They were far too focused on what lay farther ahead, the throne of Rex Lapis sitting on a raised platform. Consternation was their first emotion, followed by a readjustment to the room around them. Their eyes were quick, observing the scenario around them to take in  information anywhere they could while piecing it together with what they already knew.

The mask was significant in a way most could not explain or even attempt to do so, but an opportunity to greet their God-Emperor overcame that significance. The line was kept in order by security patrolling up and down it, making gaps between groups intermittently for easier travel in certain areas. Servants  stopped at each group, offering drinks, and the echoing tumult of the gatherer's chatter grew the closer to the throne they came. Their excitement to see their Emperor face to face was almost palpable. 

Aether and Lumine shared a glance and nodded: they too would join the line. The Lord of Geo, Emperor Rex Lapis, was their true destination from the very beginning. When they first traveled through the borders of Khaenri'ah and made their way to Liyue, it was with the intent to meet with a member of the Qixing. Someone who could, through proper documentation and peace talks, bring them before this very throne. After Aether's accident, however, this ball was their best chance.

They could figure out the secret behind Aether's mask later, if this line brought them closer to the alliance they so desperately needed, so be it. 

At least, that was the plan. One that Hu Tao urged them to take the moment she told them about the ball. But Aether still remembered the way her eyes constantly followed the mask in his hands, the look in her eyes as she did. 

The longer they stood in line, the more anxious he felt. That shadow of a memory had snapped something into place, and Aether wasn't sure he liked the emotions that broiled beneath those implications.

It wasn't an accident, he felt, gnawing on his lip at the realization, but an attempt on his life.  Something or someone had come for him, and he couldn't escape the contradicting suspicion that it was tied to the Guardian Yaksha his mask belonged to.

Lumine's worries were valid. They very well could be walking into a trap, but he wanted to believe there was more to it. Silently, he wished for another memory to jam itself back into his broken puzzle. 

“They can't seriously expect me to believe these people have nothing better to do,” Lumine griped through her teeth. Accepting an offered drink, she sipped from the crystal flute with a deep set frown, heels tapping the floor in impatience. “Is the chance to shake his hand really that big a deal?”

“I hear he only appears during festivals,” Aether replied with a sardonic grin. “Don't you remember how it was for us back home?”

The reminder of their own status made her frown darken the rest of her features, eyes burning. “Good point. At least they ask for permission before they touch here.”

“Of course, it was.” He poked her side in mischief, “I'm the one who said it.”

Another poke and she was holding back an uncontrollable giggle swatting at his fingers with an empty glare. “Says the one who was found face down in a riverbank three months ago.“

“Rude.”

“Ass.”

“Shh, a lady shouldn't speak that way in public,” he chided playfully.

“If you don't take this seriously, I'll knock out the rest of your memories.”

Ah, this was the distraction he needed. That they both had needed. His smile grew to crinkle the edges of his face, “My dear sister is so violent sometimes. Whatever shall I do with her?”

“I'll tell you what you can do,” she started, following the line as it  progressed along. “You can take that smartass grin off your face and shove it down your-”

Aether squinted as her sentence quieted and then grew mute. He watched as her lips moved, cheeks flushed in adorable irritation, but no sound reached him. In fact, the rest of the room was just as silent as the roaring waves of an angry, torrential river swallowed him up and struck against him like a battering ram. White noise and a piercing, Inhuman shriek echoed within him as glowing, wild golden eyes reflected in his mind. A manic laugh, giggling behind the shout set his nerves ablaze as bloodied fingers reached out to grasp the ones belonging to... 

The world rushed back up to meet Aether as the rivers in his mind receded. Instinctively he reached for Lumine, grasping her shoulder tight, but the words froze in his throat before he could warn her. He met the eyes of a dancer, chilling him to the bone as the mask they wore struck his memories like a hammer to an anvil. They wore the mask of a beast he’d seen before, but the recollection was adrift like a butterfly he couldn’t reach. The dancer met his gaze mid-spin and their movements slowed as their eyes gleamed from the depths of their mask. It was a person like any other, he told himself, but panic swelled inside his chest as the memory clicked into place.

A creature of the abyss. Horror choked him and the shadow that followed him leaned ever closer against his shoulder, hissing in his ear a silent warning. 

Stay away! He had to get-

A thrum of power emanated from the mask and he stumbled, falling into Lumine as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He couldn't hear her worried whispers as she held him up, strong arms bracing him as the world flipped itself upside down and spun. 

“L-Lumine-” He quivered, feeling the old chill of an Abyss Mage's magic trail down his spine. “Lumine, help, I-”

The words caught in his throat in a jumbled ball as the tendrils of green-black smoke ebbed from his hip and swirled about them. It's dark aura was thick, but the warmth it emanated chased the freezing cold away from his aching limbs and another memory snapped back into place:

The eyes. The mask. They belonged to someone. Someone he knew. The intense gaze had followed them since they passed the border, always staying just out of reach of the twins' sight, but never far enough to feel alone. 

Nights of travel and the trilling of a bird at night had drawn him from his slumber. They lured Aether to the ancient waters of Liyue where he'd first met a beast of blazing purple, teal and gold feathers that encompassed the width of the entire stream. The remains of dead hillichurls crumpled beneath its sharp talons and littered the area. 

They hadn't seen a single monster since crossing into Liyue and now he knew why.

The world spun again and those talons faded to long, delicate fingers that strongly gripped a polearm. No longer was the beast’s gaze a threat as his brow softened to a gentle stare. Instead of a strange creature, there stood a man who seemed more human as the days went by. Nights upon nights Aether sought them out, and their meetings brought them closer at each attempt.

Yes - those eyes, he knew them.

The shadow that had loomed over him since receiving the mask crept closer and almost felt like it would swallow him whole. The true owner of the mask had slipped from his fingers, but found him again. It had protected his sleep and warded away enemies as they traveled. A fact Aether couldn’t prove, but knew deep in his bones to be true. He knew all of it. Down to the original owner whose strong will to protect him had led to this very moment. 

That face...Aether scrunched his nose and whimpered, desperately trying to fit together pieces of memories too disjoined to visualize. Why couldn't he see the face?!

“-please, Aether, you're scaring me!” Lumine pleaded in his ear, urging him to come back to reality, to stand on his own two feet. The onlookers' stunned gazes struck as strong as the waters of Liyue and his grip tightened on her shoulder. Focus…I need to focus!  

Lumine's hiss was acidic in her panic, “Everyone’s looking! Aether, talk to me!”

His eyes flung open.

The mask and the energy that swirled around him dispersed, overshadowed by a collective gasp in the hall as the throne erupted in a mini whirlwind. Aether could barely see through his own tears, but he felt Lumine pulling him from the line and back through the crowd, only stopping when his legs gave out and pulled them both to the floor.

“Aether! Aether please!” Shaking fingers pushed aside his mask and pressed against his face. She cursed, “Archons, you're burning up! We need to get you to-”

He whined, his own panic building as he struggled to gulp in the air. His head throbbed as more memories filtered through, and he looked through fluttering, wet lashes to his sister. While her attention had only been on him, the moment she touched his shoulder, something happened he couldn’t quite comprehend.

Her touch had been warm, but was pulled away as he reached for her. She shouted words that were ringing in his skull, too loud and jumbled to understand. He struggled to make sense of them while those surrounding them, despite their curious gazes, made no move to assist them.

What was wrong with-

”Move.“ One voice, firm and familiar, broke through the buzzing of Aether's mind as the strange winds dispersed and a masked man stepped beside Lumine. He urged her to step aside, but she stubbornly stayed, maneuvering herself between him and Aether who struggled to piece together what he was watching. She shouted something and moved to shove the man back, but the winds around them picked up and a collective gasp shot through the crowd. A couple jumped from the crowd to pull her back as they bowed repeatedly. Aether thought he heard apologies rising over enraged shouts, but he couldn’t be sure. 

Lumine was not one to back down, struggling against them, but the newcomer held up his hand and everything stopped: the wind dropped, the two pulling at Lumine froze and she was released instantly. The rabble echoing through the hall fell silent and Aether blinked through the haze of his own tears, shivering on the floor anxiously.

”It's all right,” the man whispered, moving past Lumine to kneel before Aether, “I wont hurt him.”

Every garbled memory, every shattered piece of the puzzle, slammed against Aether’s skull with the force of a tidal wave when citrine-gold eyes burned behind a mask that looked wrong: out of place. The wrong color, the wrong size, not like the one humming from his hip. It wasn't correct at all. 

In a moment of insanity—maybe clarity, he reached for it, snapped the ribbons that kept it on his belt, and shakily pressed it against the other’s face. The movement was shaky and he almost dropped it, but the man caught his wrist in a gentle grip, holding it in place.

The mask he currently wore was in the way pulling a growl from Aether in a fit of anger and annoyance that burned away his common sense. “Not you...it's not-”

The shadow was gone, the space behind his shoulders was now empty the moment this masked man approached. Aether felt it. Felt it merge with the true face of the one he couldn't recall who finally stood before him. He directed Aether’s hand to set the mask down, letting it rest on the marble floor between them. 

Its once dark aura had ceased to pull at Aether's senses, leaving a void in its departure. The silence was deafening, and left him feeling off-balanced and weak. Insecurity struck as he grunted through grit teeth, his fingers twitching to reach for it again, but the grip on his wrist stopped him.

He clicked his tongue, regaining Aether’s attention, tilting the current mask he wore slightly off his face to reveal the true features underneath. And everything changes in the space of a second. 

Immediately, Aether felt his muscles relax, his eyes darted to the familiar chin and jaw line, moved upward the red that adorned his eyes and up again, finally resting on a gaze that set every nerve in his body on fire. Bright, gleaming jewels of citrine with a diamond shaped pupil; and a gaze intense enough to see straight into his heart and soul. Aether sucked in a breath of air, tears finally spilling over as a sob shook his quivering frame.

He knew this man. 

He knew him, he realized, letting out a shaky breath and a name tumbled from his lips. It spilled over like a feverish prayer, his voice hoarse and tired. “...My Xiao?” 

He barely understood it himself, but the spoken name sent a joint shiver through both of them, fixing something that had broken months ago. 

In those scant moments between Xiao pulling Aether's limp body into his arms and standing to meet the crowd, all became a blur. He thought he heard Lumine, her voice beside him as he was whisked away, but the beautiful scenery of the hall and the collective shouts of well-dressed party-goers became a faded memory as his mind slipped in and out of consciousness. 

With each flutter of his eyes, the setting changed: first a hallway, a set of stairs, the gentle rocking in the arms of his carrier, and then the canopy of a bed he couldn't remember laying in. A sense of deja vu made him dizzy, half expecting Hu Tao to come dancing in with a pleased grin on her face, much as she had the first day she found him. But there was no Hu Tao, and no Lumine when his eyesight swam into focus. 

There was only the unknown room he slept in that smelled slightly of dust and old fabric, and a tiny girl, not even to his knees, sweeping the floors. 

“...Um?” Was Aether's intelligent response to his predicament. “Where...am I?”

The sweeping paused and the girl tilted her head with eyes wide and empty as she observed him through the tiny talisman that hung between her eyes. When she set the broom aside, Aether noticed the tired pace she set, stretching her arms over head as she turned back to face him.

“You're awake,” She stated, voice slow and melodic. “Please stay still. I'll...” She paused, pressing a finger to her lips as she thought over her words. “That's right. I remember. I'll get Master Alatus.” 

Who-? 

“Wait,” he rasped, reaching out in a failed attempt to stop her. “Can you tell me where my sis-”

The door slammed shut behind her as her soft feet pattered down the hall, leaving Aether stumped and uncertain of his whereabouts. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long for an answer. 

While he watched the door and twisted the sheets between his fists, he tried to ignore the rising anxiety of the unknown. As far as he was concerned, the moment the door swung open, he'd either blast the new arrival with demands to answer his questions, or make a break for it. Waking from his stupor without Lumine by his side gave him a sense of vulnerability he didn't like, and he was prepared to do something about it as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Except, the door never opened as far as he could tell. In fact, neither did the large windows to his left that overlooked the large expanse of Liyue. 

A sudden wind ran through the room, circled itself in the familiar teal hues he'd seen before and all the tension fell from his body as a figure formed within it as if the very air had pieced his body together from nothing.

The mask that had been with Aether these past months swung idly on the hip of the other. He no longer wore a suit befitting of a masquerade and instead stood in finery Aether recalled seeing before: In the dead of the night, when he'd leave camp to talk to the quiet person who followed his and Lumine's every step.

Aether's eyes widened as the memories that assaulted him during the ball settled into his mind with ease. The pounding in his head was quieter now, muted in the presence of the Yaksha he'd visited many times in secret, but something wasn't quite right.

Recalling the little girl's words, Aether surmised the owner of the name and worried his lip. “So, Xiao isn't your real name?“

The man before him, this Alatus, stiffened. His eyes looked him over from head to toe while his posture spoke louder than his stoic expression. He carefully covered any emotion that may have gleamed in his brightly colored eyes. But with crossed arms, shoulders held square and tense, he was guarded, ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

Aether could tell, now seeing the way his feet were angled toward the door, that this man was uncomfortable and looking for a quick and speedy exit once his task was done. A fact that made his mouth twist in a disapproving frown, uncertainty gripping him. Was this how it should be?

“Alatus is what the citizens of Liyue call me,” he answered tersely, and Aether felt a different pain from before that dug into his ribcage. Disappointment settled in his bones, mourning the loss of openness he remembered seeing days before his attack. 

“Is that what I should call you?” He asked, voice barely a whisper.

Xiao paused, emotion betraying his careful facade for a split second before he sealed it away. “If that is what you wish.”

Wrong. 

Wrong. This was all wrong! 

Aether remembered now. The call of Xiao's music as he trilled in his beast form. The destructive beauty as he destroyed enemies encased in darkness. The sharpness of his eyes softened each night Aether came to see him. They'd been so close that fateful night and now...

There were too many questions unanswered for him to settle upon,  and while he meant to ask one thing, a complete change of subject fell from his mouth instead. “Is Lumine okay?”

A soft sound of surprise broke through once again. Aether's question startled not just himself, it seemed. With a sigh, Xiao seemed to relax just a bit more, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. 

“It was almost impossible to keep her from your bedside,” he admitted, casting his gaze back towards the door. “But she is with Rex Lapis now.”

Startled, Aether shoved the blankets aside and swung his legs off the mattress. “We were supposed to do that together! I can't sit here while she's—”

Xiao was beside him in an instant, firm hands grasping his shoulders to keep him seated. How the yaksha managed to move so quickly, Aether couldn't fathom, but when his next attempt to move was met with concrete resistance, his expression soured. 

“We're aware why you were coming here,” Xiao muttered, voice dropping to a familiar softness that squeezed Aether's heart. “Don't worry. My Lord would prefer you rest for now.”

Something akin to bitterness struck Aether in that moment. He wanted to feel relief. To believe his sister would be returned soon and their mission to meet the Lord of Geo would end in success, but none of this was right. It was all wrong, and he couldn't find the right words. He wanted to see Lumine. He wanted to verify everything, but most of all...

His nose wrinkled, and he turned his attention onto the Yaksha before him. There was an ache in his fingertips, silently begging to reach out and touch the skin of the other. This was no shade haunting the empty void of his memory, tantalizing him with a want he couldn't understand. This was the real thing. He was real, but an invisible wall held fast between them. 

Aether felt his mouth run dry, relenting to Xiao's unspoken request, but unwilling to truly relax. 

“And you?” he asked, words dropping like coals on his tongue. “Do you also want that?“

Xiao's answer was quicker than the seconds between them, “Yes.”

So simple, but the message behind it spoke volumes. Aether swallowed, glancing to his closed fists then to the floor where the other stood. Xiao's pointed shoes were elegant in their design and, while he wanted to distract himself in the many details of the other's clothing, his observant eyes picked apart every minor detail. The clothes looked stiff and dusty, and the stale scent that clung to them spoke of disuse. It matched the smell of the room, made to look impressive, but rarely occupied. A bit of the collar was out of place and a button or two off-centered. Not only were they rarely worn, but dressed in a rush. The Yaksha was still tense. So much so that if Aether blinked, he'd miss the slight trembling in the other's muscles as he stood in place, attempting to stay as still as a statue. 

For a moment, Aether thought Xiao was holding himself back. Whether to run or something else, he couldn’t be sure, but the image didn’t fit what was reflected in his memories.

It didn't make sense. 

From what he could remember, their separation had been quick and sudden; with Aether torn from Xiao's arms in the midst of an embrace that burned Aether's skin to think about. To keep his and Lumine's identities secret, they'd been forbidden the use of their full abilities, but that night had been a night of firsts, and Xiao's ability to move with the wind, coupled with Aether's wings had led to a dance along the waters that stuck behind his eyelids. 

Something had grown tight and broken that day, something that Aether now realized had been formed between them during that dance. Young and fragile, but beneath the surface it screamed for completion.

Yet, here the other stood, reunited with him after so long, and Aether couldn't tell if the Yaksha was glad to see him or upset. It didn't make sense unless-

”...do you regret meeting me?“ Aether found himself asking before the thought had fully finished in his mind. 

A sharp inhale and dead silence thick enough to slice fell between them. A heavy weight of thoughts fell upon his shoulders. That was it, wasn't it? What had grown between them wasn’t supposed to happen. It was a mistake after all and now  

Xiao caressing Aether's jaw between his thumb and forefinger brought him out of his thoughts, newly aware of the wet tears stinging the edges of his eyes.  

They were close. Almost too close. With Xiao's nose against his as the guardian of Liyue trembled in place, looming forward to keep their eyes reflecting the other’s. In them Aether finally saw what the other was carefully hiding away: relief, adoration, fear, desperation and... guilt.

“My only regret,” his voice cracked, breaking the surface of the feelings between them as he wiped Aether's tears with his thumb. “Is failing to protect you.”

The world spun on its axis, and Aether released a breath he didn't know he was holding. The ache in his heart ripped open as he gripped Xiao's hand in his own. When the other flinched, he tightened his grip, determined to keep them close enough for their words to mingle.

“You didn't fail,” he said, words ghosting over their lips, spreading a simmering heat. “Your mask found me. It led me back to you.”

A broken sound escaped the Yaksha and his eyes fell shut, clenched tight from the memories of that night. “The Abyss Mage who struck you fell by my hand, but I...I couldn't sense you after. I couldn’t find you-” 

Aether could see it then. The truth behind his raised walls. And the final pieces of his disjointed puzzle realigned themselves as Xiao's head fell upon his shoulder. The severed string that bound them grew anew and relief fell from him in waves. 

“It was my mistake,” Xiao continued, speaking into the fabric of Aether's dress shirt. (He would have to ask for the rest of his clothes later.) 

Waiting with baited breath, he let the guardian he'd found in the woods take his time to explain himself through broken, choked whispers of self-depreciation. “I searched for hours and returned when the broken bond between us threatened to take me along with it...”

He was holding Xiao now, one arm wrapped around the other as a tentative, tired hand moved to rest in the tendrils of the yaksha's hair. “I wish I understood your customs more,” he lamented, urging Xiao to continue. “I knew something had happened, but I'd forgotten, and it's instinct to hide my aura when wounded.” He paused for a second, muttering a quiet apology, “That’s… probably why you couldn’t find me.”

The explanation was meant to sooth the other, but the gentle touch and soft whispers into Xiao's ear only made his trembling worse. Aether wondered if this growing sense of unease was from the bond between them, one he was increasingly becoming aware of as the seconds ticked on. 

“Bonds are meant to tie souls together.” Aether almost missed his next words as he pushed away, face growing impassive once more. “Guardian Yaksha are sensitive to the energy of the world -” he watched Xiao pause, considering his words as an ache began to knot itself in his chest, “ binding ourselves to someone is a dangerous affair. One mistake is all it takes to … to…” 

His voice dropped, but the word hung in the air: kill. A failed bond could kill one or both involved. Aether swallowed thickly, panic rising when the Adeptus began to turn away.

The air currents began to rise. Aether felt it in the way his hair began to sway, and the staleness in the room began to filter out. He recognized the sensation, watching the dead, guilt-filled eyes of Xiao as he took another step back. He was preparing to leave, to disperse with the winds of his own creation. Aether’s instinct’s kicked in immediately and he lunged forward, not only following Xiao off the bed, but nearly knocking them both to the floor. Reflexively, the adeptus caught Aether in his arms and he took the opportunity to fist his fingers into Xiao’s shirt, determined to keep him close.

“Don't go!” he pleaded, voice dripping in a desperate need. “Please...I spent months missing you, but not knowing it for what it was. Don't…” he wet his lips and tried again, “don't make it worse.”

“I should let your sister know you're awake,” Xiao hesitated, wavering between the pull of the winds on his fingertips and the bond that sang between them.

“We can tell her,” Aether agreed, tightening his grip, “together. Please. Xiao. You did nothing I didn't want to begin with.”

This threw the Yaksha off, brows rising into the fringe of his teal hair and mouth dropping, stunned. “I don't understand. You said you didn't understand our customs?”

“Not understanding doesn't mean I wasn't aware something was happening,” he insisted, urging the other back to the mattress. “You were so beautiful...so deadly, that first night we met, but when you sent me back to Lumine, I couldn't help but hope I'd find you again and again each night. And I did. Almost like you were looking for me, too.”

A blossom of red spread across Xiao's ears and Aether knew he'd hit the nail on the head, beaming in triumph. His heart was pounding in his chest, fluttering like a crystalfly and hanging on to the edge of a precipice. “...it's the same reason I kept the mask. I could tell it was meant to help me, I just…didn't know how.”

“...it was my last resort to find you,” he coughed, covering his face with the back of his hand in an attempt to hide his red cheeks. “Accepting your death was...impossible. Rex Lapis told me what that meant: I wasn't ready to give up. So...I didn't.”

Aether gulped, feelings threatening to overflow as he loosened his grip. Xiao made no further attempt to leave and settled Aether back onto the mattress with his back safely supported by a cluster of pillows. He leaned over to adjust the blankets keeping himself close enough for Aether to speak directly into his ear as he worked. 

“Thank you for finding me,” his breathless words came out like a confession. “Lumine was worried, but...I knew it couldn't be dangerous. Something that makes you feel safe can't be bad, right?”

Just like that, the tension between them snapped.

Xiao's weight fell upon him in an instant, arms and legs twisting together as they grew tangled in the sheets. Aether's words had broken the last defense in his armor, reopening the sensations and emotions they'd shared before. Holding tight to the other, Aether basked in the sensations, allowing the memories to flow through him like the rising tides. They had kissed many times that night, he recalled...

And the next kiss Aether received was on his wrist, held reverently by Xiao, whose eyes misted over and regarded Aether like a long-forgotten treasure. He trailed his lips and fangs along the skin of his arms, to the pads of his fingers and back up again. He marveled at the shudder the action brought down Aether's body.  

“You trust too easily,” he chided, voice full of gratitude as his burning touch moved to trail along Aether's jaw, following the outline of his face. “I thought that then.” He followed his hands with his teeth nipping playfully along the skin of Aether’s neck before leaning back. Predatory golden eyes held Aether’s captive , the barest hint of a smile curved his lips, “And I still think it now.“

Aether chuckled, voice breathless from the attention he was receiving after so long apart. His own hands weren't idle, moving along to trail along Xiao's sides and memorizing every plane of muscle he could find through the rich fabric. When Xiao's lips ghosted over his own, he chased after, finally molding their lips together after the months they'd spent apart. It was amusing to realize he'd kept a secret tryst from his sister, but now that they were reunited, he couldn't bring himself to feel ashamed for it.

”Is that supposed to charm me?“ he asked after a time, still seeking the feel of Xiao's mouth on his own despite the lack of oxygen in his lungs. The other man pressed a firm hand against his chest, holding him down to give them space for air. His own, mirroring smile was small compared to Aethers, but the upturned edges softened his features to a degree that turned Aether's body to jelly.

”Perhaps not,“ Xiao answered, voice brimming with amusement, ”but you were always insufferable...reckless even.” He brushed Aether's golden hair from his face, one finger trailing to the edges of his ear to play with the earring that hung there. 

Choosing not to respond, a royal of Khaenri’ah now bonded to a Guardian Yaksha tilted his head, following the hand that memorized him. Biting the tip of Xiao's finger he did his best to remove the other's glove, eyes brimming in heat and trickery. 

He didn't miss the way Xiao's breath caught in his throat, or the rumbling growl that came in return. Aether wanted to hear more, pull more sounds out, see just how far the two of them could go while alone in this room in the Palace of Liyue. But his emotions and wants fogging his mind weren't enough to distract himself from his true goal as he examined the newly barred hand beside him.

Teal and dark, like the energy that swirled around him with sharp claws once covered by his glove, now gleamed in the light of the room. Aether had seen the majestic bird, larger than life, covered in thick feathers of gold and talons scaled in the same colors. Those hues stained the tips of Xiao’s hands and bled up along his arms: a testament to his inhuman nature. 

Aether couldn't resist the urge to return the favor Xiao had given him, and kissed the tips of those dark-touched hands. “...you're still as beautiful as I remember.”

“Shameless,” Xiao spat with no heat behind the words. He silenced Aether with another kiss, tongue delving into his mouth to taste the other as he held him down. Admittedly, it was sloppy and rushed, desperate from their time apart, but Aether thrilled from the actions regardless, shuddering when their hips rested against the other.

But that was as far as they'd go. 

Xiao's own groan answered in kind, holding their hips in place as he struggled to regain himself. Their kiss turned to a languid, slow pace as the Yaksha reacquainted himself with the feel and taste that was purely Aether. 

He resumed his trail of kisses along Aether's face, and he spoke into the shell of his ear quiet endearments that would never leave the spaces between them.

“Thank you,” he said, voice a husky drawl as Aether drowned in the throes of glee. “For finding me…for letting me find you. For staying alive. Thank you.”

“Shouldn't those be my words?” Aether muttered, laughing when Xiao cut him off again. 

Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to an hour of the two reaffirming the bond that had formerly been created. They would have more to discuss in time. The implications of their union, Aether and Lumines status in Khaenri'ah and the alliance they wished to form, as well as the implications of monsters from the abyss attacking them on the road. 

All of that would be dealt with in time, but the only thing left on Aether's mind when they finally calmed down, resting his head against Xiao's chest while they dozed, was something he'd been ignoring for quite some time now.

“Lumine is going to kill me when she realizes I got with someone before she did.“

Xiao huffed an amused laugh and the bond of the Yaksha, once broken and near debilitating, thrummed in a newly realized strength between them. “I suppose I’ll have to protect you, then.”

“There's no protecting me from an angry sister. If anything, she’ll take you out with me”

“Hmm…so be it then.” “Xiao!” 

Their playful chatter and affirmations continued between them for quite some time; The mask that brought them back together lay on the bedside table, its dark energies dormant after a job well done. 

It could finally rest. For now.

---

Bonus Scene:

"So, I was attacked and lost my memory the same night me and Xiao kinda confessed and formed a bond between each other-"

"You bonded with a stranger?!"

"Uhh no…uhm. Remember how I'd take walks by myself at night while we were camping and wouldn't come back for a couple hours?"

"You didn't."

"Apparently, I did!"

[lvebug]

"i don't know these woods very well, i'm afraid." there aren't any woods in araneae or the surrounding area so andie has spent very little time surrounded by the lush green canopy overhead at all. but she trusts rand's intuition. she picks up the skirts of her dress and turns to face him. "but if you think us lost, then we'll head back. there will be another path, one just as beautiful, i bet." there's no fear, whether that's because she hasn't spent enough time in woods at night to know what there is to fear, or because she is too foolish to fear it, it's hard to say.

@lvebug liked 🐉 for a starter

"I think that we've gone the wrong way."