#and don’t get me fucking started on their slow burn romance

[tsunodaradio]

it’s a bad idea, right? ⛐ 𝐘𝐓𝟐𝟐

and that’s when it settles in your chest, slow and final: nothing is ever going to happen with you and yuki tsunoda.

ꔮ starring: yuki tsunoda x reader. ꔮ word count: 5.8k. ꔮ includes: smut, romance, hurt/comfort. mentions of food, alcohol; profanity. playboy!yuki, fuck buddies -ish, set mostly in faenza, second chance romance. title from olivia rodrigo’s song of the same name. ꔮ commentary box: kicking off yuki week with this fic, which was inspired by two separate anon asks i got asking for a playboy yuki fic and doing it in the car with him,, it took me a minute, but i gotchu both 🤙 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The bass is thudding so hard you can feel it in your teeth. 

Faenza is humid in the way northern Italian towns get in early summer. Thick, wine-sweet air that clings to your bare shoulders and curls the edges of your mascara. You’re out with friends, but only technically. You’re half-listening to something Chiara is saying about her boss, half-watching your phone light up for the third time in two minutes.

Tsunoda (DNI ❌❌❌) is calling.

You press your lips together. The screen flashes again.

Missed call.

Missed call.

Another one.

Chiara leans over your shoulder, eyes narrowing. “Seriously? You're not answering that, are you?”

You lock your phone like it’s burning you. “Of course not. I blocked him. Emotionally. That contact name is legally binding.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And yet…” she drawls, just as your phone buzzes with a text. 

Tsunoda (DNI ❌❌❌) [1:43 AM]:  new place. come over? 

Then, a minute later, just an address. No emoji. No punctuation. Just coordinates to the next bad decision.

You stare at it too long. The message glows coldly in the dark bar, like it knows it’s going to win. Your friends order another round. You tell them you’re going to the bathroom, even though you’re not.

Even though you’re already halfway to the cab.

The city looks different at night, looks like it might actually do a halfway good job of keeping your secrets. Yuki’s new place is tucked behind a bakery. The kind of apartment you’d never find unless you were meant to. 

There’s a single light on in the upstairs window. You climb the stairs slowly, deliberately, praying for the audacity to stop halfway. 

You don’t. 

Yuki opens the door before you knock.

He’s in a hoodie, barefoot, holding a can of beer like he hasn’t just set a trap and waited for you to fall into it. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.

“You came,” he says. It's not a question.

You cross your arms, leaning in the doorway. “I shouldn’t have.”

He shrugs. “You always say that.”

You step inside anyway.

The apartment smells like laundry detergent and takeout. There’s an open window with a breeze threading through it, warm and restless. His team jacket’s slung over a chair. You recognize it. Same one from Barcelona, the last time you said never again.

Yuki leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. He’s watching you like he’s trying not to smile. “So... how've you been?” he drawls, taking a quick swig of his drink. 

You scoff. “Cut the small talk. You texted. I’m here. Let’s not pretend this is anything new.”

He nods. Of course he agrees. Of course he knows pretending is the worst part.

The real worst part is the way he looks at you. Like you’re a habit he hasn’t kicked, like maybe he doesn’t want to. You kick off your heels, pad towards his bedroom. He follows without a word. 

You sit on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. “I mean it this time,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. “This is the last time.”

Yuki sits beside you, close enough to touch. Close enough that you know exactly how this ends. “Sure,” he says.

He doesn’t sound like he believes you. 

And when he leans in, lips alcohol-slick and warm against your neck, you’re not convinced you believe yourself either. 

It started in the off-season, when the air in Faenza tasted like frost. Yuki had been spotted more often than usual. Trailing out of coffee shops in beanies pulled low, parked in his trainer’s car outside the gym, laughing too loud in the back corner of the wine bar on Via Cavour. Always with someone new. Rarely someone local.

That was his thing, you’d come to learn.

A girl in every city, like postcards he never bothered to send. Always temporary, always transient. The kind of girls who didn’t follow F1, who wouldn’t tag him in blurry Instagram stories, who’d leave before breakfast with nothing but a half-smile and a cab receipt. He was selective, yes—but not shy. Everyone in Faenza knew he had a reputation. No one could prove it.

You met him at a wedding, accidentally seated beside him. He had said your name like it was a secret, like he’d already decided something about you. Blunt and charming, with the kind of posture that read as carelessness but hit like gravity. You told yourself not to take him seriously. That this was just dinner. That he probably wouldn’t even remember you.

But he did.

He texted the next day, finding your number from a friend of a friend.

Then the next.

Then he asked if you wanted to grab a drink, and you said no but showed up anyway. You kissed him first, in the parking lot behind the speakeasy, and he pulled away laughing like he couldn’t believe you’d done it.

You should have walked away when he said, “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” 

You should have known that meant he'd break you differently.

But Yuki had that look, that charm sharpened by a thousand untold stories, and something in you—young, foolish, tired of being careful—wanted to be one of them.

So you let him in.

And now, months later, he still has the key.

The ending of it all starts on a Saturday morning. 

You’re scrolling through your phone, half-awake, wrapped in a blanket on your couch while the kettle hums somewhere in the background. The algorithm feeds you a clip from the paddock. Yuki, post-race, sunglasses pushed up in his hair. Red Bull polo unbuttoned just enough to flash the chrome necklace you’d once unclasped with your teeth.

He’s leaning on a barricade, cocky grin intact, the afternoon sun catching on his cheekbones like a lens flare. He’s answering questions as if they’re a game he’s already won. Something about tire degradation. Something about the car feeling good in Sector 3.

And then someone asks him about his love life.

He laughs. Raises his shoulders in a shrug. 

“I’m focused on racing,” he says smoothly. “Relationships? Maybe when I retire.”

There’s laughter. Even the journalist chuckles, like they never expected anything real.

But you hear it. You hear it in the way he deflects. In the way he performs. Not shy, never awkward—just closed off in that expertly disarming way. You know that tone. You’ve heard it when he’s kissed you with one hand still on his keys.

You watch the clip twice.

Once to catch the details. The second to let it sting.

And that’s when it settles in your chest, slow and final: Nothing is ever going to happen with you and Yuki Tsunoda.

Not really. Not where anyone can see it.

You hadn’t been dumb enough to believe otherwise. Not fully. But it’s still damning to see the controlled blankness on his face, the way he lies through his teeth about things like commitment and focus when his bed is warm in every city he visits.

And so you let your final act of stupidity play out where it all began. His fire-red Honda Civic, unassuming in the otherwise abandoned parking lot of the Palazzo del Podestà.

The windows are fogged, you’re seated in Yuki’s lap, and you know how you want this night to end. 

For now, you indulge it. You enjoy it. The hard planes of his body. The way he’ll mumble cusses in his mother tongue, his voice scratchy against the shell of your ear. The two fingers he curls inside of you as he expertly thumbs at your clit. 

“Missed you,” he mumbles when he finds the spot inside you that has you seeing stars. He presses down hard, drawing an embarrassing whimper from you. “Missed you s’much, baby.” 

No, you want to say. You only missed this, but not me. 

You’re too fucked out to say it out loud, though. You’re only chasing the high that crashes down on you after Yuki has relentlessly readied you with his fingers, the way you’re so dazed that you don’t even register him gently maneuvering you until your back is flush against his chest. 

Neither of you have even bothered much with clothes. It’s like this whenever it’s a quick fuck, a bit of fun before he has to go race circles in some other country. His shirt is halfway on; already rumpled at the skirt as Yuki pushes it just high enough to give himself room to move.

You hear the sound of packaging crinkling, of Yuki slipping on a rubber as you hover on top of him. He groans as he slowly eases you down onto his cock, his arms coiled around your waist in a way that’s more appropriate for lovers than—whatever the hell this is. 

“Bellissima,” he breathes into the space between your shoulder blades, and you sorely wish it didn’t make your heart thump the way that it did. 

Yuki takes control. With him, dominance seems to be half the game. You’re not a stranger to the way he bounces you up and down his length, the way he restrains himself to grunts and an occasional profanity as he bucks his hips up into yours. 

You bite your lip. You breathe through your nose. You squeeze your eyes shut and hold onto the car seat in front of you, begging your body to not enjoy the feeling too much. Not when you’re about to say what you’re going to say. 

He notices your restraint, notices the way his ministrations are greeted with muffled moans instead of the usual shameless whines. Liquid pleasure shoots down your spine when Yuki nips at the shell of your ear, his voice nothing more than a rasp as he asks, “What’s wrong, baby?” 

What’s wrong is this. All of this. 

“Nothing,” you lie, the word punched out of you as he gives a sharp, punishing, thrust upward.

Yuki’s arm, snaked around your waist, pulls in tighter. The next thing you know, he has his fingers over your oversensitive clit, rubbing the sensitive nub there as he picks up his pace. 

“You’re thinking of something else,” he accuses, sounding almost jealous, “or someone else, hm?” 

A small part of you wishes there was somebody else to picture, absolutely anyone else to imagine. Alas, all you have in your head is Yuki. His dark, unruly hair. His toned arms. His cock twitching inside of you, signaling the nearness of his own climax. 

You don’t mean to say it then. You’d planned to let the rendezvous end, to call it quits once he had pulled up in front of your apartment. But it comes out in the same breath he rips your second orgasm from you, the very moment he shudders and begins to release into the condom around his hardness. 

“We’re done,” you gasp, your knuckles white against the seat in front. “Yuki, we’re—fuck—we’re done.” 

Both of you ride out your respective highs with those words hanging in the air between you. The smell of sex still clings to your skin, humid and unignorable in the tight, dim space of his car. 

Yuki gingerly pulls you off him, shuffling to the other end of the backseat. He doesn’t look at you. You don’t look at him. 

Your head rests against the cool window. Your heart is still racing; your breathing, still a little too hard. Maybe the truth could be outrun if you just kept quiet a little longer.

After two whole minutes that feel like an eternity, Yuki says, “You always say that.”

There’s no bite to it. No smirk. Just something tired in the way he exhales the words.

You stare out the window. The condensation drips slowly down the glass like it’s crying for you. “I mean it this time,” you say, the line perfectly rehearsed and said in a thousand different times, a thousand different ways so far.

In the corner of your eye, you see Yuki throwing you a skeptical glance. Something simmers beneath his gaze, something that seems to scream Don’t bullshit me. 

“Okay,” he simply says, but he doesn’t believe you. He never has. You’ve always come back.

Except tonight, there’s a quiet certainty in your chest. Not sharp. Not angry. It’s… settled. The same way rocks give after waves crash against them enough times.  

“I wish you were different,” you say softly, the words barely above a whisper. Not to hurt him, just because it’s true. “I wish you could give a damn in a way that mattered.”

He flinches a little. Maybe it does hurt after all.

You pull your dress down, pat down your hair. It doesn’t matter what you look like. He’s already seen everything and still never really seen you.

You open the car door, step out on shaky legs. The air smells like wet asphalt and regret, but the street lights gleam as if promising you something better beyond this arrangement. 

Before you shut the door, you lean down and say one last thing: “I hope one day, when you’re ready to be real with someone... you remember I tried.”

You close the door. As you walk off, you don’t look back. 

The days after unfurl gently.

The city wakes slowly in the summer, with streets that stretch under drowsy light and cafés that open just as the mist burns off the tiled rooftops. You fall into a rhythm that feels like something close to peace. Morning espresso at the bar on the corner. Fresh fruit from the old man who still calls you bella. Sun-warmed walks through alleys blooming with hanging flower pots.

You don’t hear from Yuki.

At least, not at first.

Then, the silence cracks.

It starts with a missed call. Then another. Then three more in one evening, all while you’re not doing anything terribly important. 

Tsunoda (DNI ❌❌❌) lights up your phone like a fire alarm, persistent and impossible to ignore. Voicemails you don’t listen to. Texts you read and then immediately delete. 

u up? 

can we talk? 

were you serious? 

cmon, i know you want to. imy. 

You never answer. It’s a siren call you sail past. 

There’s a strange power in the silence you offer him. It startles you, how easy it is to withhold now. Not out of cruelty, but out of clarity. You meant what you said. You walked away. You didn’t leave the door cracked behind you, and it takes Yuki a couple of weeks to realize that. 

Sometimes, the texts come late. Two in the morning. Half past four. Once at sunrise. Maybe he’s drunk. Maybe he’s lonely. Maybe he’s realizing what it means to be on the outside.

You don’t care enough to wonder. You leave your phone face down and push it to the far corner of your desk.

Instead, you lean into life: the market on Saturdays, the chill of wine glasses clinking on terraces, the velvet hush of the cinema when the lights go down. Your friends start noticing the change—your posture a little taller, your eyes a little clearer. One even says, You look free.

You smile and mean it.

Of course, there are still whispers. Faenza is small and nosy and always humming with something. Apparently, Yuki’s been seen with a girl from Bologna. A model, someone whispers. Someone says she left the next morning in the same heels she arrived in.

You stir your drink and don’t say anything. It’s not your story anymore.

When his name flits through a conversation like cigarette smoke—sharp and lingering—you let it pass. Let it dissolve. You’ve built walls he can’t scale with just a text and a low laugh.

Sometimes, the race highlights play on the muted TV at the café. You see the familiar flash of the Red Bull logo, the familiar stance of Yuki pacing the paddock. Necklace shimmering in the light. Jumpsuit peeled to the waist. He always looks like he’s walking out of the smoke.

You glance up. And then down.

You don’t linger.

You don’t ache.

You smile at the barista, ask for another espresso. The days move on and so do you.

His season ends without you noticing.

The engines fall quiet, the checkered flags wave one final time, and the world spins on. You stop tracking the races. Stop glancing at headlines. The driver who used to crash into the walls of your life no longer takes up space in your mind. Not consciously, at least.

The whispers die down, too. People say Yuki’s probably back in Japan. Maybe he’s finally settled down. Maybe someone quiet and sweet tied him down the way no one else could. Maybe she doesn’t mind the pieces of him that others flinch from.

You swear it’s not something you think of, not something you pay too much attention to. 

Until the day you see him again.

It’s a golden afternoon, the kind the city seems to bottle at the end of autumn. Soft sun pouring like syrup through the wide windows of your favorite café. You’re halfway through a book you don’t love and a cappuccino you do when the bell over the door jingles.

You glance up.

And freeze.

He’s there. Standing like the end of a sentence. Like something you almost convinced yourself you made up. There’s no swagger, no show. Just a muscle tee, jeans, and hair that’s grown longer than you remember. His eyes scan the café, land on you, and stay.

You don’t speak. You don’t move.

Yuki walks over slowly. There’s something unguarded about him in the sunlight. No paddock flash, no silver jewelry. It’s just him. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” he says in greeting, his voice low. Not rushed. Not cool. Honest.

You raise your eyebrows. “How did you even know I’d be here?”

He offers a small, almost shy smile. “You told me once. Said this was the only place in Faenza with enough sunlight in the mornings.”

You blink. You don’t remember saying that. Not clearly. It must’ve been one of those offhand comments, said in passing and long forgotten. Except he didn’t forget, and now he’s standing in your safe space like he belongs in it. You fight the urge to call him cruel, to accuse him of selfishness. 

He looks around, then back at you. “Can we talk?”

You don’t say yes.

But you don’t say no, either.

Instead, you close your book and set it on the table between you, spine-up. A marker of pause. You watch as he takes the seat across from you, the sunlight painting him golden. 

He leans forward slightly, fingers tapping once on the ceramic of his cup. “I missed you.”

“You’ve said that, yes.”

“More than I thought I would.”

You don’t flinch. Your voice is steady when you ask, “What kind of conversation is this going to be, Yuki?”

He breathes out slowly, eyes flicking to the window, then back to you. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t have the words for it yet. I just... I kept thinking about you. Not just sometimes. All the time. Even when I tried not to.”

“That’s not enough. Not anymore,” you say outright. “If you’re here to stir things up and leave again, then I can’t—won’t—go through that. I’m not a pitstop for you to take at your convenience.” 

For a moment, he looks like he might back down. Like whatever fire brought him here is flickering. But then he meets your eyes again, and something raw passes in his expression.  

“Can I at least try?” he asks. “To prove that I can change? That I’m not just the guy who walks away?”

He’s not asking for forgiveness. He’s not even asking for a second chance. He’s asking for the space to earn it.

Despite everything, despite how many times he’s broken the shape of your heart, you sit there in the daylight and realize you haven’t said no.

Yuki doesn’t try to bulldoze his way back into your life. No grand gestures. No midnight declarations outside your window. He just starts showing up.

The first time, he brings you coffee. Not from your usual café but from the little shop near the laundromat, the one that’s been run by the same old man since the dawn of time. You’d mentioned once, half-asleep and tangled in his sheets, that they made the best espresso in town. That the crema was just right. That the bitterness lingered like a promise.

He remembered.

You don’t thank him. Not with words. You only take the cup and drink it down slowly, eyes never leaving his face. You catch him pumping his fist in the air as he walks away.  

The second time, he texts you. Can I drop something off?

You think about ignoring it. You almost do. But curiosity is a stubborn thing, and Yuki’s always known how to use it against you.

You say yes.

He comes by with a box of strawberries from the weekend market, sun-warmed and still smelling like earth. You take them wordlessly and shut the door. That night, you eat them all. Not a single one is rotten.

The third time, he waits.

You’re late getting home. The sky is turning the color of old bruises, and there he is—sitting on your front steps, hood drawn up, earbuds in. You expect him to flash that grin, the one that always meant trouble, but he doesn’t. He just stands.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” he says. “I just wanted to see you home safe.”

You tell yourself not to soften. Not to fall for the way his voice wraps around your name like a secret.

He keeps showing up. Not every day. Just enough to be noticed. Just enough to worm his way back in.

You find sticky notes pressed to your mailbox. One has your favorite line from that book you never finished. Another has a doodle of a bull—round and clumsy, like the ones he used to scribble on the had to go, you know your way out notes after sex. This time, he’s a little more articulate. Sentiments like thought of you and look, it’s us and I tried my best, I hope this makes you laugh. 

You don’t throw them away.

Sometimes you text back. Just one-word answers. Sometimes nothing at all. But you don’t block him. And he doesn’t push. 

One night, it rains. Hard.

There’s a knock on your door, and when you open it, he’s standing there soaked, holding a small umbrella and a takeaway bag that smells like gyoza.

“I didn’t know if you’ve eaten,” he says.

You let him in, drizzle and all.

He sets the food on your kitchen counter. You watch the water bead on his skin, watch the way his hands shake slightly as he opens the bag. A couple of months ago, this might have ended with a quickie in the shower, with him between your legs or you on your knees. 

There’s none of that tonight. Instead, you eat together. You make small talk. He doesn’t try to touch you, not once. When he leaves, he looks at you like he used to, when you first started whatever it was you were doing. Like you hung the stars above Faenza yourself.

You close the door behind him, back pressed to the wood, and realize you’ve stopped saying this is the last time.

Somewhere, in all the quiet, you’ve started letting him back in.

You’re drunk. Not sloppy, not wild, but warm and loose around the edges. The kind of drunk that makes your limbs light and your memories soft. It’s a Friday night, the bar is buzzing, and all your friends are laughing too loudly under string lights. Wine and tequila spill across the hours. People make bad decisions left and right. 

You shouldn’t call him. You know that. You haven’t called him in ages, but tonight you’re just devil-may-care enough to throw caution to the wind. 

You’re slurring on the phone, trying to flirt, and he’s caught between amusement and exasperation. You ask him to pick you up, take you home, make you feel wanted again. 

He does the first half.

You’re leaning against a lamppost when Yuki’s car pulls up, headlights catching the shimmer of your dress. You slide into the passenger seat without a word. He’s quiet, hands steady on the wheel, face unreadable.

“You have a flight tomorrow,” you say.

“I do,” he huffs. 

Silence wraps around the car like fog. At a red light, you turn to him. His profile glows gold under the streetlamp, calm and close, too familiar. Something in you stirs.

“Yuki,” you hum, reaching out.

He doesn’t flinch when your fingers brush his cheek. He doesn’t pull away when you lean in. You lean over the center console, emboldened. Your lips almost graze his jaw when he stops you—hand gentle but firm against your shoulder.

“Don’t,” he says softly.

You freeze.

“Not like this,” he adds, eyes still on the road ahead.

You laugh, small and bitter. “Since when do you say no?”

“Since it started meaning more.”

You stare at him, suddenly more sober than before.

He glances at you then, voice low. “I’m not doing that anymore. Taking what I want and leaving you to figure it out alone. I want more than... that.” 

You sit back, stunned. The Yuki you knew—the one who once kissed you like it was a dare and left like it was nothing—never said things like that. He pulls up to your building and shifts the car into park. Doesn’t look at you right away. 

When he does turn to you, having acted like nothing more than your chauffeur, a good friend, somebody in love with you and trying his best to prove it, his expression is so open that it steals the breath from your lungs. He’s never looked at you like this before. 

Or, at least, you’ve never noticed 

“Get inside safe, okay?” he mumbles, and you nod, suddenly unsure of everything.

You wake up the next morning with the taste of regret and tequila on your tongue.

Your head throbs. Your stomach churns. And yet, somehow, you’re pulling on yesterday’s jeans and finding your keys. You don’t stop to fix your hair or clean the smudged eyeliner under your eyes. You just go.

Yuki’s apartment is tucked behind a quiet row of sycamores that still remember the sound of his laughter from summer evenings past. You take the stairs two at a time, adrenaline pushing you through the nausea, until you’re standing in front of his door.

You knock. Harder than necessary. When he opens it, he’s halfway into his travel hoodie, suitcase by the door, passport in hand.

He blinks at you. Surprised, maybe. Or maybe not. “Hey,” you greet, voice rough from sleep and leftover alcohol.

“Hey,” he echoes, a little cautious. “You alright?”

You nod. You’re clearly not. “Can I come in?”

He steps aside without another word.

You stop just past the doorway, not quite sure what to do with yourself. “I’m sorry about last night,” you blurt, crossing your arms tightly. “I wasn’t trying to—I mean, I didn’t mean to make things complicated.”

He exhales a sigh, setting his passport down on the table. “It’s not complicated. You were drunk. I’m glad you called me.”

“Yeah, well.” You glance at the floor. “It still felt shitty waking up and not knowing what I’d said or done.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says gently. “But I didn’t want to... take advantage. Not this time.”

The words are out of you before you can reel them back in. “That’s new,” you say, unintentionally calloused and cruel. 

He cracks a faint smile, as if he figures he deserved it. “I’m trying,” he responds. (You don’t doubt it.) 

You study him—the dull glint of his grin, the tired crease near his eyes. He looks like someone who wants to stay and go at the same time. “Where are you heading?” you ask, because the other option would be to ask him to stick around when that’s not in the cards.

“Bahrain,” he answers patiently, even though he already texted you about it two days ago. “Pre-season testing.” 

“Big year.”

“Could be. If I keep my head on straight.”

You step forward. “Let me make this harder for you.”

He raises a brow. Before he can respond, you’re already leaning in to kiss him. 

It’s not graceful. Not neat. Messy, brash, too much teeth at first. But he kisses you back—without hesitation. Like he’s been holding the moment in his chest for weeks, waiting for permission. You’ve kissed Yuki maybe dozens of times before, but this one is different. This one means something. 

You break away first. His forehead rests lightly against yours. Your breaths mingle. 

He blurts out the next words as if he’s been holding on to them for too long. Maybe he has. Maybe they’ve beat beneath his ribs since the night he met you, since the first time you kissed, since the day you tried to leave him in that parking lot with nothing but the ghost of your warmth. 

“You’re not a pitstop.” 

“What?” you ask laughingly, forgetting already what you’d warned him in the sun-drenched café that led to this this second shot. I’m not a pitstop for you to take at your convenience. 

“You’re not a pitstop,” Yuki repeats, arms wrapping around you. Fuck the flight. He can always book another one. 

“You’re the whole goddamn race,” he says, and then he’s kissing you again like he can somehow seal the words against your lips. 

It’s funny. You had spent all this time wondering what Yuki was racing for, what he might racing away from. 

You never thought he could be racing towards you. ⛐

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

May 4th

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1. Wangxian having sex but it's lan wangji POV (p.s he is top) @lanwuxian0725

Fair's Fair by KingdomFlameVIII (E, 11k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Drunken Kissing, Making Out, First Kiss, First Time, Love Confessions, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Incidental Edging, Marriage Proposal, Fluff and Smut)

🔒(Planning the Day) To Meet You by Bettydice (E, 61k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Pining, Mutual Pining, WWX raises A-Yuàn, minimum angst, MAXIMUM GAY, Self-indulgent fluff, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, POV LWJ, Happy Ending, Getting Together, Falling In Love, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Anal Sex, Intercrural Sex, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX)

🔒 The Second Jade of Lan’s late but incendiary sexual awakening by KizuKatana (E, 41k, wangxian, First Time, LWJ’s Horny Grip, canon wangxian dynamics, college AU, LWJ starts off annoyed at WWX, But quickly discovers both his competency kink and a caretaking kink, Genius WWX)

❤️ save a sword, ride a socialist by sysrae (E, 33k, wangxian, modern w magic, college/university au, fake/pretend relationship, single parent WWX, homophobia, light angst w/ happy ending, idiots to lovers, fluff)

Honesty is the Best Policy (Except if You’re an Asshole) by piecrust (E, 22k, WangXian, Porn with Feelings, College/University)

~*~

2. ITMF a fic where wwx hurts lwj's feelings in some way and regrets it

Between The Lines by Witch_Nova221 (M, 153k, WangXian, Epistolary, Romance, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Letters, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Long-Distance Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Canon, Idiots in Love)

A Little Late (But Can I Come Home Anyway?) by anobtra (animeobsessedtrash) (E, 31k, WangXian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, LXC/NMJ, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, Falling In Love, Running Away, Oblivious WWX, Pining LWJ, LWJ Deserves Love, Supportive Sibling LXC, Minor WWX/Other(s), dadxian, Adopted LSZ, Smut, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Porn with Feelings, Modern, Composer LWJ, Teacher LWJ, Role Reversalish, Crying, a lot of it, Cock Warming, Morning Sex, Slow Burn, Kind Of, Riding, Not Actually Unrequited Love, friends to strangers to lovers, Gentle Sex, Soft WangXian, Morning After, Crying During Sex, NMJ is a good brother in law)

~*~

3. I’m in the Mood for a Fic: Spicy and Kinky wangxiang! (all kinks ok) BUT with plot, less than 80k, completed, switching is ok, but no bottomji only, thx! <3 @needlovebeloved

~*~

4. Hello! I am itmf a well-structured sports au. I've recently finished Waiting For Spring and The Boys of Summer by @thievinghippo, which has consumed me these past weeks and now I need more! I'll take any sport, but ice hockey would be wonderful. Thank you! @chef-manardee

In Your Shoes by athena_crikey (E, 42k, WangXian Modern AU, Olympics, athletes as minor celebrities, olympic promotion, Filming, on screen chemistry, Getting Together, Falling In Love, Archery, Fencing, Period-Typical Homophobia, as an influence not an interaction)

I feel like I win when I lose by so_shhy (T, 25k, WangXian, Modern AU, Sports, basically written as the ATP tennis finals, but with extra swords, Getting Together, [Podfic] I feel like I win when I lose by sisi_rambles) this one is modern cultivation as a sport tho

For 4, some of these don’t go in to a lot of detail about the sports but I thought I’d include them anyhow:

Play Wangxian by lorelaiart (E, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Concussions, Gay Sex, Frottage, thigh fucking, Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol, Drunken Shenanigans, Drinking Games, Dry Humping, Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Angst, acespec wei ying if you'd like (I like), Hockey)

🧡 Never Have To Ask by literaryoblivion (T, 14k, WangXian, Hockey AU, Modern AU, Kid Fic, Fluff and Angst, Single Parent WWX, NHL Player LWJ, Past Minor Character Death, Pining, Friends to Lovers, Reunions)

love - all by vastlyunknown (M, 18k, WangXian, Modern AU, Tennis AU, Time jumps)

🧡 your heartbeat, across the grass by fakeplasticlily (E, 44k, WangXian, Modern AU, Football/Soccer, Football/Soccer player LWJ, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Childhood friends, Kid Fic)

The Space Between Us by TempestFlame (E, 30k, WangXian, XuanLi, Modern AU, Tennis, charity date auction, mentions of drug use, Hurt/Comfort, Yunmeng Siblings Dynamics, Supportive LXC)

Dance Me to the End by venagrey (E, 35k, WangXian, Modern AU, 2021-2022 Figure Skating Season, No Pandemic, teammates to friends to lovers, Eventual Smut, mixed signals: on ice, Oblivious WWX, Bisexual WWX, mortifying ordeal of being known, slightly nonlinear timeline, Unreliable Narrator, gratuitous descriptions of skating, first time nudes, Accidental Phone Sex, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, inappropriate use of medals, Rimming, Winter Olympics)

me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 10k, WangXian, Modern, Hockey, Epistolary, Unconventional Format, Social Media, Sports, WWX & LWJ are rival hockey players, WWX is a menace as per usual, POV Outsider, shenanigans tomfoolery rumors chaos etc etc, the junior squad are rookies!, JC is So Done, Crack, is it gay to fall in love with your hockey bro or are you just a really committed ally)

~*~

5. Hi!

Itmf cute short wangxian fluff (it doesn't matter if it's canon or modern times). I want them to get together and also share the first kiss.

I read a lot of these in the past but I hope I can get a lot of new recs.

Thanks in advance💜 @petra2402

Love Cats Series by so_shhy series (T, 14k, WangXian, Modern, Meet-Cute, Fluff, WWX is wet and adorable in a tree, With a Cat, LWJ had no chance, Don’t Try This At Home, First Dates, LWJ likes ducks, WWX does not like dogs, They just have a nice date, picnic dates, Falling In Love, LWJ is briefly less than graceful, there is a spider, but like barely there and totally harmless, LWJ Loves Rabbits, Office Party, LXC is a Good Big Brother, WWX is an excellent boyfriend, POV Outsider, they are in love the world is full of joy, Everything is Beautiful except for baby coots)

hot for teacher by attackofthezee (noxlunate) (M, 8k, WangXian, Modern AU, Kid fic, Teacher LWJ, Single parent WWX, Fluff, Getting together, different first meeting)

Worship you till morning comes by feyburner (E, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, Meet-Cute, First Dates, First Time, Fluff, Kissing, Hand Jobs, Falling In Love)

🔒beep! goes his heart by wearing_tearing (T, 3k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, Roommates, Hurt WWX, Single Parent LWJ, Friends to Lovers, Heartbeats)

I get religion quick 'cause you're looking divine by so_shhy (T, 7k, WangXian, Fluff, Humor, Getting Together, I get religion quick 'cause you're looking divine [Podfic] by Fleur Rochard (fleurrochard))

Blooming Days by Atsushiis (G, 7k, WangXian, LWJ & LXC, LWJ & MM, Modern, College/University, Meet-Cute, First Dates, First Kiss, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, LWJ Has Feelings, Let LWJ talk about his feelings agenda, Romance, Falling In Love, Wangxian are softer than a baby bunny, gratuitous handholding, Give LWJ hugs agenda, LWJ Protection Squad)

🔒divine, divine by sunflowersfield (T, 3k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Pining, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Lovers, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, For an extremely minor injury/cut on the hand, Meet-Cute)

🔒to breathe a sigh or two by sunflowersfield (G, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, Falling In Love, Christmas, Winter, Getting Together, Happy Ending, First Kiss, Brief Flashbacks to High School, Friends to Lovers, Artist WWX, Pokemon Vendor and Streamer LWJ, holiday markets)

Chemical Warfare by lemonlush, naqaashi (G, 3k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Fluff and Humor, Bad Cooking, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Soft WangXian, First Kiss, Domestic WangXian, Fluff and Crack, Minor QingMian, Minor NieLan, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Public Display of Affection, Roommates/Housemates, Love Confessions, Happy Ending, Minor XuanLi, Inspired by Fanart, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication)

The fish dies by its mouth by Hong0 (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Mutual Pining, Teenage Dorks, First Kiss, Canon Divergence, Getting Together, WWX-Typical Obliviousness, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Humor)

~*~

6. In the mood for some angsty (preferably with happy ending) lonely Lan Zhan. It could be after Wei's death and focused on his lonely punishment and life without his love. Or it could be focused on Lan Zhan growing up in Gusu and having no friends or someone to connect to. I would really like to read some story that describes Lan Zhan's solitude and how it affected him.

Each Imagining Another Face by Fool_on_the_Hill_2528258 (T, 3k, LWJ/OC, WangXian, The Untamed (TV) Compliant, Inspired by The Untamed (TV), Thirteen Years of WWX's Death, Canonical Character Death - WWX, Past Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Past Violence, LWJ Plays Inquiry, Angst and Feels, Grief/Mourning, Angst and Hurt/Comfort)

a safe pair of hands by occultings (microcomets) (E, 11k, WangXian, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Body Worship, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Sharing a Bed, Getting Together, First Time, Curses, Intimacy, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved LWJ)

🔒Response by Aki_no_hikari (G, 12k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Feels, Love Confessions)

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, LSZ is the best of boys and I will not hear debate, Music, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, [Podfic] to the act of making noise by Ceewelsh, flamingwell, kisahawklin, Rionaa)

🔒the map of days by everythingispoetry (M, 20k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Permanent Injury, Recovery, Disability, Parenthood, Character Study, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death)

The seasons change (but I love you the same) by kdkdkd (G, 7k, LWJ & LSZ, WangXian, Single Father LWJ, Thirteen Years, Fatherhood, Growing Up, Fluff, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief, Insecurity, Love, Canon Compliant, headcanons, Music Hall, Single Parent LWJ, Dad LWJ, Badass LWJ, Annoying Lan Elders get put in their place and fired, Thirteen Years of WWX's Death, Angry LWJ, Gusu Lan Elders Bashing, Kid Fic, Happy Ending)

the year of drought by idrilka (E, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Pining, Getting Together, Wedding Planning, Letters, Instructional Use of Gay Porn) also works but it’s the 2nd part of a series (the first part was from Wei Wuxian’s perspective)

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, LSZ is the best of boys and I will not hear debate, Music, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, [Podfic] to the act of making noise by Ceewelsh, flamingwell, kisahawklin, Rionaa) not sure this is exactly what the poster is looking for, since this is from Sizhui's POV rather than LWJs, but it primarily focuses on the years WWX is dead and is very much about LWJs grief

~*~

7. Hello, thank you for your hard work! 🙏Itmf any stories where the Burial Mounds or the dead Wen Remnants take revenge on the cultivation world for what happened to them and WWX. Thank you so much! @boxedbutterfly

To Be Named by Suibian_613 (T, 39k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Out of Character, WQ is out of character, Everyone is probably ooc, canonical violence, Canonical Character Death, let WWX and JC become bros again, JYL lives, Somewhat Sentient Burial Mounds, WN and JC Rivalry, Sibling Rivalry)

Reclamation by CordialCoroner (CordialCrow) (M, 6k, major character death, not JC friendly, canon divergence, post sunshot, revenge)

So Faithful, So Few (So Pardon, and Done) by azri (M, 3k, wangxian, canon divergence, post-siege of burial mounds, revenge, zombies, horror, blood & gore, not JC friendly, not cultivation world friendly)

Meet you at a different place by tawaen (M, 57k, Eventual WangXian, Ghost General WN, Ghost WQ, Canon Divergence, WQ comes back to haunt the cultivation world, Bad idea to kill the one person who didn’t kill anyone, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Deserve Better, Sīsī Deserves Better, MXY Deserves Better, POV WQ)

~*~

8. ITMF power bottom or dominant (but still receiving) WWX. Any setting except A/B/O is fine! 🖤 @linderel

~*~

9. Hello.... I have request. Can you recommend fic on

A) wangxian office romance

B) Wei Wuxian grew up with Nie Clan.

Thank you.😍 @hazeylove89

9A)

Body Language by Scourge Daughter (scourgedaughter) (E, 33k, wangxian, modern, office au, ABO, gender changes, fem wangxian, office romance, hacking, cybersecurity, alpha/alpha wangxian, arranged marriage, wangxian endgame, happy ending, YZY A+ parenting, canonical character death, sexual harrasment, drunk LWJ, switch wangxian)

Secretary Lan Series by silverclaw (T/E, 15k, WangXian, Modern AU, CEO WWX, Secretary LWJ, Misunderstandings, Humour, POV Outsider, Infidelity (but not really), Office Sex, Roleplay, Competence Kink, very light dom/sub undertones, LWJ is a brat, A side of strength kink as a treat, Porn With Plot, LWJ is in fact a sapiosexual, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Angst, Insecurities, Wangxian argue but lovingly, Resolved Argument)

Work-Life Balance is Not A Thing by catbrainedschemes (E, 17k, WangXian, Modern, Workplace Relationship, Romantic Comedy, Idiots in Love, Oblivious WWX, Oblivious LWJ, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Pining, Dirty Talk)

🧡 Hello, IT. Have You Tried Turning It Off and On Again? By overmountainandmeadow (T, 65k, WangXian, Modern AU, Office, Modern office AU, IT Director! LWJ, Graphic Designer! WWX, Father!LWJ, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Juniors as interns, Light Angst, Mistaken Identity, Identity Porn, Rabbits, Cloud Recesses as a company, Happy Ending, Single Parent LWJ)

🔒at first sight of the sun by sunflowersfield (T, 3k, WangXian, Modern AU, Coworkers, Fluff, Neurodiversity, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Happy Ending, First Dates, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort)

Twist, Coil by Scourge Daughter (scourgedaughter) (E, 18k, WangXian, Modern: No Powers, Business Partners, meet ugly, ongoing twitter threadfic, high society, Technology, Pining, Office, Romance, much ado about ai, Shanghai, brief lwj/other but it's in the name of wangxian)

Incognito by EClairatee (E, 15k, WangXian, Misunderstandings, Light Angst, Modern AU, Office Romance, Eventual Smut, POV Alternating, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering)

🔒WangXian Office AU: What's the Tea... ? Series by Blackbeads461, Ladycroft4evr (G/M, WangXian, Modern Era - no cultivation, Office AU, CEO WWX, Secretary LWJ, Office Romance, Rollercoaster ride of new love and angst and pining, WangXian as canonically incapable of role-play, office gossip, OYZZ is So Done, SMS Bashing, more like pulling his leg, Awesome WQ, NHS is a Little Shit)

9B)

🔒 shades of grey spill from my veins (bleeding ink all over the page) by Reverie (cl410) (M, 58k, NieLan, WangXian, SangNing, POV NMJ, Canon Divergence, Joining the “Wei Wuxian raised by the Nie Sect” Club, Mentions of WWX’s life on the streets, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Sibling Acquisition, Single Dad NMJ, NHS & WWX Friendship, Fluff, Humor, Happy Ending, Everyone Lives AU, Protective NMJ, Sunshot Campaign, Some angst, Blood and Injury, Kidnapping, Protective Siblings, Found Family)

💖🔒 The Echoes of that News Ring Loud by Scarlet_Gryphon (T, 111k, NHS & NMJ, 3Zun, NHS/WN, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, NMJ Lives, WWX Raised by a Different Sect, Joining the WWX Raised by the Nie Sect club, Universal Da-ge NMJ, JGY deserved better, Cinnamon Roll WN, the Nie brothers will do whatever they can to save the world, Temporary character death (but they get better), Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Everyone Lives, Good Guy XY, because let's not leave kids hurt on the street, Let's give NHS Battle Fans club member, Gray-Ace power trio 3Zun, Canon Divergenc, ediscussions of JGS's canon-levels of dickery, brief and non-graphic discussion of past rape/non-con due to QS's origins, Mentions of Nightmares, NHS is a Little Shit, Minor Character Death, Happy Ending)

Heart of the Beast by WaitForTheSnitch (E, 488k, WangXian, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Adopted WWX, WWX is a Niè, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious WWX, Protective NMJ, Scheming NHS, Protective NHS, Soft NMJ, NMJ is So Done, NHS Is A Little Shit, Pining, LWJ Has Feelings)

~*~

10. Hello! So, I've been in the mood for two kinds of fics, actually!

A) I just reread All old things are new again, by The Feels Whale and would LOVE more reincarnation or reincarnation with Immortal LWJ and/or WWX, where JC and LWJ just LOATHE each other and don't understand why, or LQR and WWX also hate each other and have no idea why, with either other one of wangxian knowing and don't know how to tell their parner or past lives and lingering strong feelings is just commum place. Just... That vibe of JC going "So why do I hate your ass?" and LWJ "...blinked slowly in a way that he knew drove Jiang Wanyin’s elder self insane. The trait apparently persisted through reincarnation because a dark red flush started to creep up the man’s neck."

And

B) I would really like Lan Xichen critical fics, not really bashing, but if possible, LWJ openly criticizing him, his attitudes, choises, hypocrisy and etc. Most importantly would be LWJ knowing and recognizing his mistakes and flaws. I read too many LWJs just glossing over his brother's whole thing and helping him out of seclusion, and for me that's not very much LWJ coded.

Anyways, thanks for all you do in this fandom!

10B)

these may not be perfect a perfect fit but are close:

🔒 In spirit by apathyinreverie (T, 1k, WangXian, BAMF LWJ, Cultivation World Critical, LWJ being pissed and WWX watching delightedly from the sidelines, As a ghost, for now, Fix-Itof sorts, Canon Divergence, lwj takes a-yuan and leaves the cultivation world, Some angst, Fluff)

Mourning Dove by jaemyun (Not Rated, 29k, WIP, WangXian, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mounds, Canon Divergence, Eventual WangXian, WWX is dead at first, dark LWJ, rogue cultivator LWJ)

Seek and Ye Shall Find by orphan_account (E, 21k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, JC Bashing, Jiang Family Bashing, JYL is Not Angelic, Gusu Lan Sect Bashing, LQR critical, LXC Bashing, NMJ Critical, NMJ Tries, Only for NHS, Not bc he feels guilty, JGS Being JGS, Secret Relationship, Secret Children, Explicit Birth, WangXian Get Married in the Cold Springs Cave, Married WangXian Have Children, LWJ and WWX Are LSZ's Parents, Sexy Yiling Laozu WWX, LWJ Being a Perfect Husband, Cultivation World Critical, WWX Has a New Golden Core, No Yīn Iron, Cultivation Sect Politics, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, Frankecanon, for my purposes only, Mpreg, Gusu Lan Elders Bashing, WQ Lives, Wen Remnants Live, No Smut)

❤️ For Both Of Us (And Time Is But A Paper Moon) by sami (E, 65k, WangXian, Time Travel, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Canon Divergence, Asexual JC, First Time, Getting Together, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, [Podfic] Cold read of For Both Of Us (And Time Is But A Paper Moon) by kisahawklin, Для нас обоих (И время лишь бумажная луна) (Russian translation) by nomuad)

~*~

11. Hello, I have an itmf request, please! Looking for fun adventure fics with WangXian and the juniors. Could be classes, night hunts, quests, mysteries, etc. The longer the better. Thank you so much!

🔒 when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 176k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations) not to be a broken record but my favorite WWX having adventures with the Juniors fic is "When the Sun Goes Out" -- the Juniors don't become relevant until the back half of the fic, but there's a lot of great stuff before then too.

between the pages of some novel by yuer (vintageblueskies) (T, 7k, JL & LJY & LSZ & OYZZ, WangXian, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Curses, Sex Curse, non-explicit discussion of sex and porn, junior shenanigans, the mortifying ordeal of trying to figure out if your seniors are having sex, no sex happens in this fic, the author attempts humor)

let me come home by cafecliche (G, 4k, WangXian, Vignettes, Fluff, the Lan family alcohol tolerance, Travelogue, Light Angst, Like the lightest, just enough to make the fluff sweeter, it's gentle pain seasoning, Post-Canon)

🔒 and having a marvelous time by varnes (E, 108k, WangXian, Yúnmèng Siblings, Sound of Music AU, (i know!!! i know. stay with me on this.), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Family Feels, spies to lovers???, Protective Siblings, Sometimes You Just Want Your Dads To Admit They’re Your Dads, Angst with a Happy Ending) you might like the sound of music au??? even though it's not "junior quartet" exactly. definitely plenty of WWX & kids adventures though

🔒 Four Parts Honey and One Part Vinegar by masked (T, 13k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Fluff, Humor, Time Travel, 5+1 Things, Jealous WWX, the Impeccable Trust between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, POV Outsider, everyone is Thirsty for Hanguang-jun as one tends to be)

🔒 hills and rivers are waiting by LtLJ (T, 15k, WangXian, JL & WWX, Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, BAMF WWX)

Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground (T, 39k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Case Fic, Intimacy, Curses, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Romance, Sexual Tension, Scent Kink, WWX Loves To Teach, wangxian are married, Fluff, nonsexual intimacy, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Nonverbal Communication, this is HEAVY on the symbolism, Translation in Russian)

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie (E, 68k, WangXian, All the clan leaders, Literally so many OCs, Case Fic, Blood and Injury, Demons, Body Horror, Mystery, The intrinsic horniness of wound tending)

tell some storm by qurbat (G, 31k, wangxian, JC & WWX, LSZ & WWX, NHS & WWX, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, liberal amounts of outsider POV)

your words upon my lips by uchiuchi (T, 17k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff, Curses, no sad times only good times, Canon Compliant, Romance, they are married!!, Let LWJ Say Fuck, Case Fic)

Wei Wuxian’s Delightful Demon Baby! by CheekyBrunette (T, 22k, WangXian, Case Fic, Accidental Baby Acquisition, POV LSZ, LSZ-centric, LSZ Needs a HugJealousy, Family Feels, Family Bonding, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Canon Universe)

Junior Detectives! (The Case of Mo Xuanyu) by CheekyBrunette (T, 64k, WangXian, High School, Case Fic, Mystery, False Identity, Teacher WWX, Teacher LWJ, Gusu Lan Juniors Dynamics, MXY IS WWX, LSZ Needs a Hug, JL Loves JC, JL Needs a Hug, Good Nephew JL, Gun Violence, Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Attempted Kidnapping, Near Death Experiences, Near Death, Canon-Typical Violence, but modernized)

~*~

12. Sad fic where Wei Wuxian dies in childbirth. Maybe birthing A-Yuán. Could be anyone tho

~*~

13. Hello! Thank you so much for all you guys do for this fandom!

For ITMF; Any of the Lans, even if just Lan Zhan at first, realizing WWX is a genius in the lectures and is abused by the Jiangs, then doing whatever they can so WWX stays with them and never goes back to Lotus Pier? @lostandmessedup

🔒 the language of flowers and silent things series by Reverie (cl410) (M, 107k, WangXian, LXC/NMJ, LWJ & Madam Lan, NHS & LWJ, LWJ & LXC, LWJ & NMJ, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the YZY warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric, Politics, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, Cultivation Sect Politics, Protective WWX)

🔒💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting)

🔒💙 Holding shreds by barisan (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Body Swap, Not for sexy shenanigans, Chronic Pain, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, POV WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jiāng Family Bashing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Smart WWX)

I’ll Take the Path of Thorns by Admiranda (G, 6k, WangXian, Misaimed Curses, WWX is clever, character is cursed to experience pain based on dislike, Cloud Recesses, Canon Divergent, JC's canonical homophobia, Curses, Baby Wangxian, Light Case Fic, Not JC Friendly, We all love NHS in this household)

🧡 To have and to hold by Moominmammashandbag (M, 78k, WangXian, JFM & YZY, JYL/NMJ, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major character injury, CQL verse, Happy Ending)

🔒 Come Lay Your Head Down Beside Me by Preludian_Staves (Not Rated, 9k, WangXian, No Sunshot Campaign, Fluff and Angst, protective Lans, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Mpreg, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Past Abuse, Child Abuse, Getting to Know Each Other, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX)

~*~

14. I'm itmf any assassin wwx and lwj fics preferably where they're both assassin's :D

You Only Die Twice by Mikkeneko (T, 11k, WangXian, Assassins/Spies, Assassins & Hitmen, Modern AU, Mafia AU, Action, Moderate Violence, a lot of people die but no named characters, not exactly lan sect friendly, not exactly lan sect critical either, Assassin LWJ, Kindergarten Teacher WWX, coffee shop meet cute, Let LWJ Say Fuck, slightly cracky, Non-Linear Narrative)

silhouettes to steal this night by moonsteps (T, 51k, WangXian, Modern, Assassins & Hitmen, Roommates, Rivals to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Identity Porn, Violence, Blood and Injury, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Secret Identity)

Target Acquired (A Family) by relenafanel (T, 11k, WangXian, Assassins & Hitmen, Modern Cultivation, Cultivation Sect Politics, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Acquired family, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Canon-Typical Violence, Family Feels, Disguise, WWX Wears a Dress, Domestic Fluff, Comedy)

🔒 You & Me Baby, We’ll Eclipse The Sun Series by 2501987 (M/E, 130k, WangXian, XiCheng, MIND THE TAGS, Modern AU, Mafia, Murder husbands, Torture, Possessive Behavior, Blood and Violence, Older JC, Younger WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Dark)

~*~

15. Hello! ITMF Wei Wuxian achieving immortality in the midst of the canon plot at some point, and everyone else's reaction to that? Thank you!

To Do Nothing by xxxMiaHikarixxx (G, 7k, WangXian, Revenge, non Canon, Not JC Friendly, Not Lan Friendly, lots of A-Yuan, WWX & LWJ are so in love, death and not death, Canon Divergence, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, BAMF WWX)

~*~

16. I would love to read some stories where Lan Wangji is taking care of Wei Wuxian, like helping him take a bath, brushing his hair. I kind of like stories that go beyond the sexual between them, in fact, I love when they explore non-sexual intimacy. I would prefer this to be set in canon, I'm not a big fan of modern au and stuff like that...

In Sickness and In Health by athena_crikey (G, 9k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Fever, Fever Dreams, Delirium, Poisoning, Nursing, the inherent indignities of illness, Love Confessions) lwj takes care of a sick wwx

hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, wangxian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together, Really Excessive Amounts of Hurt/Comfort, hunters seeking solid ground (Русский) by Sphinx28, sağlam zemin arayan avcılar by DemigodElena, [Podfic of] hunters seeking solid ground by exmanhater, hunters seeking solid ground by Attila [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea))

and I can’t break free by Kika988 (T, 4k, WangXian, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Touch-Starved, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Canon, 🔒and I can’t break free by Kika988 [podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea))

the hidden source is the watchful heart by o_honeybees (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Domesticity, Touch-Starved, Grief/Mourning, Misunderstandings, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Unresolved Sexual Tension,Eventual Smut, reflections on selfishness and selflessness)

build me no shrines by occultings (microcomets) (M, 54k, WangXian, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, First Time, Getting Together, Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Hair Washing, Sentient Burial Mounds, Case Fic, Post-Canon, CQL Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Light Angst, Flashbacks, mild body horror, foot washing, Happy Ending, Non-Sexual Intimacy, …then sexual intimacy, WWX learning to accept intimacy without deflection, occasional LWJ humor agenda, [Podfic] build me no shrines by flamingwell)

call me home and I’ll build you a throne by anaphoricae (E, 51k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Post-CQL, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Developing Relationship, Self-Indulgent, Gusu Lan Juniors Dynamics, Touch-Starved, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sexual Intimacy, Lán Juniors Gossiping about Wangxian, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Farmer WWX, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Mutual Pining, Communication, Quietly Falling Into a Married Life, Light Angst, Wholesome, POV LWJ, POV WWX, LWJ in braids agenda, Sharing a Bed, Semi-Public Sex, Inventor WWX, Jealous WWX)

where the chaos is by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 6k, WangXian, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Compliant, Post-Canon Reunions, Love Confessions, First Kiss, First Time, Emotions, WWX is overwhelmed, Domestic Bliss, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, Intimacy, Hair Brushing, and more!)

~*~

17. Hi! I hope y’all having a great day

For the next itmf, i’m thinking of wei ying learning to scare away dogs with resentful energy while he lives in the streets. Like how fierce corpses used to run away from him after his yllz era. Has anyone seen something along these lines? Just wei ying getting dabbling out of a survival need before being found by jfm. Thanks!

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Good Morning Hawkins, I have a Thought™️

Gale Dekarios is 100% a character that Eddie would have created in a D&D campaign. A brunette doe eyed autistic rizzard of Waterdeep whose only friend is a Tressym? That’s an Eddie Munson character.

To quote my buddy @sweatyfuntrash: Consuming magic items otherwise he’ll explode? Eddie coded.

100% Eddie coded my friend.

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - one (j.yh)

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you've never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he's so much more than a crush, he's your soulmate. one | two (section 1) (section 2) | series masterlist 🔗read on ao3 ✨ across stardust pinterest board

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

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

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 17.9k

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

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

“Fuck,” You breathe, “hey,” 

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

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

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

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I guess.” 

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

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

“Thank you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” He checks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?” He tilts his face up to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” He hums and stays relaxed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” He laughs, “of course, yeah,” 

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

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

The tattoo on your chest feels warm beneath your blouse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s yours. 

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

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

“You didn’t?” His hand falls. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head, “No,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A soulmate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His shoulders relax just a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” You assure him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good,” You nod, “don’t worry,” 

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

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

“Am I good?” Yunho checks. 

Your eyes flick over him fast, “Yep,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He really is yours. 

It turns out that later means much later. 

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

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

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

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

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

A soft knock at the door makes your stomach lurch. 

You’re frozen. 

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

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

“I waited,” You manage. 

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

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

He nods, “Come to my room?” 

“Are you sure?” Your eyes widen. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the heavy door shuts behind you, you sigh. 

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

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

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

“It feels pretty real,” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You what?” Your eyebrows raise. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Completely,” He nods, “did yours?” 

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

“Does it feel,” He starts.

“Warm?” 

“Yes,” He nods, “and tender?” 

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

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

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

“You want to see it?” He surmises. 

“Only if you’re comfortable,” 

His lips quirk, “I’m comfortable,”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

He shakes his head, “Not before today,” 

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

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

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

“You feel that?” He asks, “Right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it always feel like that?” 

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

He smiles, “Your sister found her soulmate?” 

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

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

“Younger,” You say.  

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

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

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

Your heart quickens and you nod. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Your voice is thready. 

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

“Yes,” You agree, painfully quickly. 

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

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

You wonder what more will feel like. 

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

You nod. 

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

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

“You can feel that?” 

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

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

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

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

“Feel alright?” He murmurs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He feels so right, so essential under your touch. 

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

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

“Yunho,” You shiver. 

“Cold?” He gravitates a little closer. 

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

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

His lips are on yours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to slow down,” He manages. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Overwhelming,” You nod, exhaling softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You straighten up again, finding his eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your tight hands uncurl. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s yours. 

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

“This is real,” You murmur. 

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

“You’re mine,” 

“Yes,” He grins. 

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

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

“Together,” You nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is nice,” You smile. 

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

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

“It is,”

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

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

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

 “I had no idea,” 

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” You perk up, “Who?” 

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

You sigh, letting his softness calm you again. 

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

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

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

That wakes you up. 

Your eyebrows raise, “Stay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With me?” His eyebrows raise. 

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

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

“It is what it is,” 

“Are your parents soulmates?” He asks softly. 

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

You watch his eyes widen in surprise. 

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

“For status?” He surmises. 

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

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

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

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

“It could,” 

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

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

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

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

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

Your smile at his warm expression. 

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

Your throat constricts, tears threatening for a moment. 

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

“Very,”

“I’d like to meet her,” He smiles. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

“She’s funny,” He smirks. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Your eyes feel heavy. 

“Yeah,” He kisses your forehead. 

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

“Mhm,” He yawns too, “me too, jagi,” 

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

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

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

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

Nuzzled against his tattoo, you drift.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Naive is what it is,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long?” Seonghwa manages. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Yunho laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mouth feels dry. 

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

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

You both wait. 

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

Yunho nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” Yunho curses. 

You both slept straight through Yunho’s alarm. 

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

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

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

Did you already get up and get ready?

Your work bag is still here…

Not funny, girl, where are you?

Did you make it back last night? 

Can you answer me?? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seonghwa huffs a laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With some guy?” She stands. 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” You say again. 

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

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

“Iseul,” Your cheeks heat. 

She points at you, “I’m right!” 

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

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

“I can’t,” You press, “leave it,” 

“Why are you being so weird?” 

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

“I’m not letting this go,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” 

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

“Fine,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You miss him. 

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

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

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

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

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

So you’re as awake as I am? 

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

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

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

Nope - You tease back. 

Was she upset? - He asks. 

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

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

How was Seonghwa? - You tap out. 

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

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

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

That’s good - You send back. 

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

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

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

Why’s that? - You tease him. 

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

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

So who did she guess? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exactly - You reply. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your thighs press together - Yunho?

Yes, jagi?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you have headphones? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want me? - You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

I was tossing and turning. 

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

You send him another emoji, the blushing face. 

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

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

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

Wearing? 

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

I asked you first.

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

A heavy sigh passes through your lips. 

“And you?” 

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

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

Me too 

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

Me either - You confess. 

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

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

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

You message him one last thought - What about you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” You murmur in a whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s good, that’s so good,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Uh-huh,” You manage. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” He murmurs, “you okay?” 

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

He hums, a quiet, lazy laugh, “Ah,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, baby?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” 

“Are your headphones still in?” He asks

“No, but I can switch back,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sknyuz]

heavy lifting (preview) | k.m.g.

synopsis: you're struggling to get out of a bad academic slump, feeling overwhelmed by the constant pressure of grades and the inability to focus. after a few failed attempts to get motivated, you decide to do something different—start going to the gym. at first, it’s just about getting out of the house, but that all changes when mingyu, the gym’s resident greek god, notices you. no amount of reps or cardio can compare to how fast your heart races every time you cross paths, and it becomes impossible to ignore a six-foot tall kim mingyu.

genre: college au, romance, smut (markers for start and end if you wanna skip), fluff, slice-of-life, slow-burn, gymrat!mingyu

pairing: mingyu x reader (ft. dino and riize wonbin)

warnings: slightly awkward moments, gym-related humor, slow-burn, soft smut, heavy flirting, making out with random ppl at a party, alcohol consumption, y/n is an absolute LOSERRRRR, profanity of course, mentions of body image (positive)

wc: preview: ~650, full fic ~10k(ish)

a/n: posting this fic within this week !! let me know if you'd like to be part of a taglist. comment or reblog this post ^^ this is my first, full-length fic on here. full fic to be posted: 4/22

full fic posted here!

* don’t hesitate to send an ask to request a specific member or prompt !!

preview:

you’ve always been the kind of person who hides behind books. your friends—well, they say you’re “flustered” a lot, but you know it’s just because you don’t really know how to deal with people. academics are your thing. people? not so much. you can hold small talk and even long conversations, but that doesn't mean you enjoy them. that’s why when the stress of midterms and the constant pressure of getting everything perfect starts to pile up, you find yourself stuck in a cycle of studying without getting anywhere.

jeonghan, your roommate, always tells you to “take a break” when he finds you buried under a pile of textbooks, but you ignore him. while your dorm neighbor, seungkwan, who’s become your unofficial therapist, insists that maybe a change of scenery might help, but you brush it off. you don’t know what’s worse—failing or the thought of being the one who’s not keeping up with the others.

that’s when you decide to take a leap. you’re not sure if it’s just the idea of doing something different, or the fact that every other option has failed, but you sign up for the gym. you’re not sure what you’re expecting—just that you need to shake things up.

the first day is terrible. you’re awkwardly trying to figure out how machines work, watching everyone around you who seems like they know what they’re doing, while you’re stuck on a treadmill wondering if you’re supposed to be running or walking faster.

that’s when he notices you.

mingyu.

he’s not hard to spot—tall, broad-shouldered, a greek god in a compression shirt, with muscles you can’t even begin to fathom. you try not to stare, but your eyes can’t help it. he’s on the other side of the room, lifting weights with ease, his form flawless. you can’t even imagine having a fraction of that confidence. you turn back to your treadmill, your face flushed as you try to focus on not tripping over yourself.

but then, out of nowhere, he’s right there in front of you.

“hey, are you new here?” his voice is so casual, but your heart skips a beat at the sound of it. “first time at the gym?”

you freeze, where the fuck did he come from?

pretty hard not to spot a giant like kim mingyu walking towards you, y/n.

without thinking, you mumble, “oh shit—” and immediately stumble forward. you try to catch yourself but end up tripping over your own feet, your hands flailing to find balance.

“whoa!” mingyu’s quick reflexes kick in, and before you know it, he’s right there, steadying you with one hand on your shoulder. “you okay?” he asks, voice tinged with concern, but there’s a hint of amusement in his smile.

you gulp, heart racing. “i—yeah. i just—uh, didn’t see you coming.” you let out a pathetic laugh, heat flooding your cheeks.

mingyu chuckles, his laugh deep and warm. “i kind of figured. you look like you’re on the verge of a wipeout.”

you can’t help but give a lopsided smile, despite your embarrassment. “thanks… i guess,” you mutter, still trying to regain your composure.

“don’t worry about it,” he says with a friendly smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “you’re still alive, so that’s a win in my book.”

and just like that, mingyu’s gone, back to his workout as if he hadn’t just saved you from making a fool of yourself in front of everyone.

for the next few days, mingyu’s presence haunts the gym. you see him everywhere—lifting weights, chatting with people, giving advice, being… well, perfect. and all you can do is watch from the sidelines, still too embarrassed to approach him, but also unable to tear your eyes away.

there’s something so confident about him, so effortlessly kind, and you begin to notice the way he always looks out for people. he’s just a regular guy, right? except he’s mingyu, and somehow, he makes everything look effortless.

oooh, and those. arms.

and you? well, you’re still stumbling through the basics. and you learned pretty early on that no amount of cardio can beat your heartrate every time your gaze catches a sight of kim mingyu.

a/n: the next part would be roommate jeonghan shenanigans but i guess we'd have to wait to read more !! again, taglist is open for this one—super excited to release my first full-length fic !!! would appreciate the support and love like y'all have given my cb one-shot for wonwoo ^^

[velaenam]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc. you are a successful aerospace engineer, a girlboss, with terrible luck in romance. let's hope this strangers website brings you out of that rut! 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 – swearing/foul language, strangers, slow burn, tba notes – not proofread. bear with me as i attempt this cute romance. mc will be unbearable, and the reader may come off egotistical, but you're a bad bitch, so we're gonna highlight that. this was just a bit of world building >< sorry if its a lot of reading-- mention of said stranger site is NOT mentioned on this chapter. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 1 of many ! next chapter

you were a successful woman. in fact, you were so successful you built your own company from the ground up. you were an aerospace engineer. you and your lifelong friends were revered in skyhaven as gods of some sort, due to the great contribution you’d all make with the DAA in such a short time. whom had the connection to partner with the DAA, none of you dared to speak of it. 

okay, that was a lie. your dad was once a very– very high ranking official within the DAA board. you definitely had to admit that your connection may have played a pivotal role in you and your team landing the partnership, but not to diminish your fantastic career. you are an extremely smart and cutthroat woman. a neuroscientist's greatest feat may very well be getting their hands on your brain to dissect it. your teams many tests and builds have contributed to the creation of damn near all of the modern fighter pilot planes. 

so how did such a prodigy such as yourself land in such a messy blind date?

your eyes scan the man in front of you. his smile, smug, his cologne, cheap.. to you. you can’t deny, he did dress well, but you also couldn’t help but your guttural instinct. he was talking your ear off about bullshit that quite literally did not concern you. next to you was your friend, stacia. her date was just eons better. he didnt reek. he looked comfortable, personable, and he cracked jokes.

you swore to yourself that you’d cuss stacia out when you both reconvened, but for now, you had to hold out for her. 

‘babe, this hot guy is asking me out on a date.. but he said its a double date– his fucking cousin wants to meet you! please , you have to help me’

‘i’m going to be busy this weekend.’

‘busy doing what?!’ she rolls her eyes– its insane youd lie to your bestest friend. ‘i have to check some batches at work.’

‘work work work– this is why you’re single! your free day off, and youre working! ’

ouch, but it was true.  you don’t revel in the world of love. you were so busy burying yourself in work and making sure shit went perfect that you completely neglected your personal life. sure you had flings, here and there, but that’s it. a couple days, hell, one last for a week– but nothing serious. your parents may have even worried you wouldn’t be giving them grand kids. but that’s okay! that is why you’re one of 4. 

as you speak, the man in front of you speaks over you. “you are so gorgeous, woman! i am so lucky you are my date!” you felt your skin crack. if theres one thing you didn’t tolerate, it was disrespect. you weren’t going to be called ‘woman’ when you had a name. call it an ego, but it was a well deserved one.

people worshipped the ground you walked, as they should, and you weren’t going to allow just anyone have your time. you shoot a glare at him, and you shift your hand in front of you, signalling him to quiet. stacia and who ever the hell she was with had went outside so it was you and whomever the hell this guy was. “i have a name.” you start, deadly calm. he blinks, eyes glossed. had too much wine. “im going to call it a night. take care.” you abruptly stand, fishing through your purse and slapping a band on the table. “should cover the tip as well. take care” 

your red bottoms click as you walk out of the restaurant. you walk towards stacia who was sucking faces with the man who was her date. upon seeing you she breaks away from him, and scurries towards you, “hey! where are you going?” you shake your head, smiling, “got a busy schedule tomorrow. i paid for dinner. call majors if you need a ride home.” you wave at the both of them as you slip into your vehicle. before you drive off , you contact majors, your family chauffeur to be on standby for stacia just in case.

you make it home to your skyrise abode. the valet takes your keys gracefully and you make your way to the elevator, clicking through your phone, seeing the hot goss of your friend group. 

same stuff– pregnancy scare number 10 from talia, a billion comfort msgs from all of you, marinas boy problems, and your message

‘date was a bust. not my type.’ as you exit from the msg your eyes close. you already knew you were about to be barraged by “your expectations are too high!” – “you didnt even give him a chance!” – whatever excuses they had for these men. you chuckled to yourself. at least you didn’t whine constantly that you were single.

there was this one guy who had caught your attention. he was a doctor at the akso hospital in linkon. however, he just wasn’t interested in you. you could just tell. or really, as much as you could tell in passing. 

the ones that were interested ended up asking for your number or showed more significant interest in you. he just simply treated you and he went on his way, like a normal uninterested doctor, which was fine by you (not really. you thought he was really fucking hot) 

you slid your apartment card on the handle and step inside. you flipped the lights on as you set your key and bag down on the designated spot. slipping off your heels you stretch, back aching form the shitty conversation you had with that random. you pout as you pass the living room to the kitchen. you sometimes wonder if you were being too complicated. somewhat. but you were so important to the city that you couldn’t help but be guarded. your job was important, and you wanted to date someone who could keep up with you. you grab your medicine from the cabinet and a glass of water, knee deep in thought as you start your nighttime ritual.

you sit down at the family table. your father had called you down earlier because he wanted to speak with you regarding an important matter, but everything was an important matter regarding the old man, so you agree, reluctantly . you stare down at the glass table that reflect your own face. it was spotless, just like your mom wants. you scan the porcelain vase in the middle of the table, appreciating the blue and white features it contained. as you dawdle your eyes meet your dads. “hi sweetheart.” his warm greeting echos through the room. “hi dad. i’m not in trouble am i?” you half joke, really hoping you werent. he gave you a soft chuckle before sitting across from you and shaking his head. he put his hands on the table, intertwining his fingers together as he stared down at you. an allowance would be made or a proper scolding was in place

“bug, i’ve had this talk with all of your siblings, and it’s your turn.” he starts, you attempt to scan his facial features on what it may regard, but to no avail. “pardon my language, but your mother and i worked very hard to get where we are. i don’t ask for much, but when the time comes, trust your gut. if you fall in love. fall in love with a person who wont disrespect you. marry a person who won’t use your money or career against you. only you can make the judgement of whom that is. i dont care if you become stuck up ‘cause of this. but i’ll be damned if i let my kids marry… beneath them.” he finishes.

you heeded his words very carefully and you carried that with you throughout high school, throughout college, through now. there were many men who tried you. some scared for their life at the sight of your parents. some tried to rush things with you once they found out about your family status. some simply ghosted you. those were just simple precedents that somehow ruined your thoughts on dating. 

not only heeding his words, but you used that as a good foreground for your expectations. does he have to make more money than you? hell no, because you have enough money that you donate monthly. you raked in, big bucks. you just wanted someone who wasn’t vain. not begging for expensive luxuries. you wanted a gentleman. someone who opened the door for you without you asking. someone who kissed your hand when they saw you. someone who loved you and understood you. called you by your damn name. took interest in what you had to say.

bonus points if they liked planes.

thats your favorite thing in the world. planes. aviation. its your job.

your internal clock kicks in, and you yawn. you finish putting your clothes away, and you sit in your bed. you check your phone see the messages. you see a couple of messages popping up and you roll your eyes,  preparing  for stacia

‘he was boring af. i actually dont blame u this time. but my date was so sweet. i might do a second date.’

‘btw he asked what u did cuz he saw the wad of cash on the table. i told him ur a lawyer fyi.’ 

‘thanks love, gn’ you text before you shut down for the night. you weren't too keen on people knowing about your occupation/career so you ask your friends to manipulate the truth sometimes. you're on social media here and there, and for the most part, the aviation world knew who you were, but people were dumber than they let on, and some people cant put two and two together, so you try not to give them a reason to.

“ let’s rerun the wind tunnel test with the revised control surface parameters– if the drag coefficient drops even slightly, we might hit our efficiency target.” you command, your eyes staring holes into the data. your colleague nods, obliging.

as they start, your phone rings. you roll your eyes, and look at your phone. 

‘jenna’ 

she rarely called, so this mustve been important. you hit the answer button and put your phone in your ear, motioning the others to continue without you. “let me know what the results are.” you walk out of the building, where it was a bit more quiet. “hello?”

“hey, how are you?” – “i’m good, jen, how are you?” you hear her laugh, “i’m good. sorry to call you on the job, but i have a request. kind of important. i need you to come down to linkon. asap.” you groan, rolling your eyes again. back and forth linkon and skyhaven rapidly was so annoying to you, but you sigh. “yeah– i’ll see you in 30.” – “thanks. ill meet you in the lobby”

you return to your testing and cut them early for the day. you’d explain that you had a family emergency and that you’d have them be paid a full day. after you finish shutting the facility down you had majors grab the family jet to meet you outside of the facility. normally you’d take the coelum express– since you actually enjoyed taking it, but she’d sounded so urgent that you didn’t wanna lag.

your eyes scan the building. ‘hunters association hq’ your heels clack, echoing throughout the main lobby. the receptionist greets you with a big smile, and you return the gesture. “good morning, i’m looking for jenna.” she scrambles through her computer, suddenly in a panic

“oh! i’m so sorry- i didn’t know she had a meeting today?”  her frantic was cut short by a pair of footsteps. “you’re fine. she’s my sister.” jenna smiles warmly at you and you nod at the receptionist thanking her, and you turn to jenna. you grin at your older sister as she leads you down a corridor of elevators. 

she leads you through the office, taking in how pleasing the building looks, “you guys have a gorgeous facility.” you hum, running your fingertips on the glass countertop. jenna chuckles, her hands behind her back, quietly walking next to you, “much appreciated. hows work been?” you give her a sheepish look, “it’s going pretty well. we’re running stress tests on the new airframe, only one day of pulling an all nighter– nothing is on fire. yet.” she chuckles at your response, and you join her laugh. it resonate in a way that complimented you both. definitely sisters.

“so the reason that you’re here is because of something related to a jet and a wanderer that we caught on camera.” she starts. you listen intently. you weren’t really related to your sisters job. you just made and tested planes, and you were never dealing with wanderers, so this came to an odd surprise. as she shows you the footage, it shows that a jet flying flawlessly- only seconds later it seemed to have lost power, nose diving straight down when a wanderer got near it. your brows furrow, confused at how the close proximity of the wanderer managed to scramble the power of the jet. your eyes study the video, attempting to find any intricacies that may give you any answers, and unfortunately, nothing lets up. you take a peek at jenna and her team, and as you tap your finger on the surface of the computer you hum. “can you give me a copy of this, so i can show my team? i need to discuss with them on how we can figure this out..” you start. you pull your phone out and pull up your notes. 

“also.. how hard would it be if you can possibly capture a wanderer.. we may need to test them out in close proximity..” you continue, typing it all out on your phone. 

as you look up, you notice the hunters staring at you in awe, including your sister. a soft smile etched on her face. they were all totally fangirling at how cool you just were. it wasn’t everyday that they got to see the master at work. they wracked their brain on this situation for days before calling you.

“is the pilot okay?” you pique, as the analytics team hand you a floppy disk. jenna gives you a curt nod, before you return the gesture, “if you want to pass his information to my secretary so we can compensate him for any possible damages, i would greatly appreciate it.”

the pilots of the DAA were just as important to you as anything in the world, because after all, they put their trust in your company to keep them alive. 

when you and jenna were left alone, you sigh, pinching your nostril, “this is going to be so annoying. i hope you know that.” you state matter-o-factly, slouching down on the chair. jenna nods, staring at the video once more, “hopefully you don’t have to use too much energy.” she states, referring to your evol, “i wouldn’t ask unless it was important.” she reassures you. you put a hand on hers and smile across the table, “i know. it’s fine– really.”

nobody aside from your family and work really know of your ability. it goes hand in hand with your job, really. 

ever since you were young you had an interest for planes. your parents thought it was a cute obsession you gain as a little kid, like when jenna had an obsession with dolls as a kid, you had one for planes.

 it happened one afternoon. it was ‘take-your-kids-to-work day’ and you were walking around the hangar. 

you’d been walking through the rows of jets, when your eyes land on ‘maverick’ your dad’s pride and joy– that happened to be currently out of commission. as your hands made contact with the jet’s sleek wing, a warm jolt shot through your fingertips– followed by a flood of images in your head; pressure readings, airflow calculations. you briskly pull your hands away, blinking, disoriented, as the jet seemingly came alive beneath your touch. 

you freaked out, because this wasn’t normal. you didn’t just feel the jet. you understood it. you slowly realize, that your brain worked different. way differently. you placed your hand on the plane again. 

you noticed that there was a slight misalignment in the primary fuel injector. you didn’t understand what the hell that meant, so you quickly grab your father and his engineers, telling him what you had just discovered. at first they laugh it off, confused as how a 13 year old knew a thing about fuel injectors and the like, but after you kicked and threw a tantrum, they were forced to check it out, and surely enough your diagnosis was spot on. they replaced the faulty component, and shortly after, ‘maverick’ roared to life. 

your dad looked at you with the biggest, and proudest smile he’d ever given you. 

you don’t often use your evol, because it came at a cost. you’d get killer migraines, become disorientated, and the like, so you used it sparingly, and hence why jenna shared her grief of having you do this task. but everyday you spent fixing your creations is a win in your book, so you ultimately didn’t mind it.

you make small talk with your sister, catch up a bit, as you both walk back down to the lobby. she escorts you outside and you give her a tight hug. “thank you again, please update me when you can.” she says, as you give her a sweet smile, nodding as majors opens the door for you.

it had been a couple days since you saw your sister about the wanderer problem, and you’re currently at a gala held for the recent graduates of the aviation academy. you and your dad were the primary speakers of the night, and you couldn’t help but feel nervous. 

as you were confident and powerful, you weren’t too keen on public speaking. not that you were bad at it, you just enjoyed when the attention wasn’t on you, let alone damn near hundreds of people in one room staring you down. 

you stare at the mirror, lips pursed as you finish applying your lipstick, and straightening your dress up. you wore a black maxi dress that sculpted your neckline and outlined your chest, but in a classy way. waist adorned with a small belt, with a long cape sleeve that flows gracefully from your shoulders. you smile at yourself in the mirror before you clear your throat, readying yourself to socialize.

as you walk out of the bathroom, you take in the row of future pilots in front of you. holy fuck what did they feed these hunks? you blink, staring at how hot some of them were. tall, check. chiseled jawline, check check, sexy.. check! you take your phone out and record the event, giggling internally. your friends were going to definitely bitch at you for not asking them to come. you send the message to them and you walk over to the punch bowl where many of the men were giggling. 

in the middle of the group was your silly father. retelling stories of his time in the force. 

“ general!” you call out playfully,  and the men all turn their heads towards you, causing you to feel super self conscious. maybe you shouldnt have done that. he gives a hearty laugh, motioning you to come over. you reluctantly do so, your warm smile striking the hearts of the men.

“men, this is my genius daughter –” you give them a small polite wave, and you scan them all. they were definitely intimidated by you- except one man. your eyes linger at his purple gaze, longer than you wanted to. he was the tallest one of the lot, his brown hair contrasting his perfect eyes. his shoulders broad, jawline sharp as if he was sculpted by a god. to say this man was handsome was an absolute understatement. your favorite part of this man was his smile. that was the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen in your life.

you tear from his gaze, before you look at your father. “i was just telling them about maverick!” – “ahh, your 5th child?” he nods, laughing once more, “i was just about to tell em how i was able to get it up and running again.” he starts. here he goes. before he started, you hold your hand up to cut him off, respectfully, “dad i hate to stop you, but they’re looking for us.” you mutter, nodding over to the committee of speakers. his eyes widen scrambling up, placing his drink down on the table and standing up, straightening himself. he nods to the men and excuses himself, “congratulations men. i am extremely proud of you all.” and with that he walks off, with you trailing behind.

caleb watches you walk off, his eyes never leaving your figure. his eyes finally snap back to the group once you were out of eyesight, and he tunes back into the conversation, “the generals daughter is fucking gorgeous.” his friend muses matter-o-factly, an understatement, he thinks to himself. “i hear that they’re going to give the ‘maverick’ to one of us rookies. who do you guys think its gonna be?” – “probably caleb!” they all take a look at him, and he only gives them a laugh. the man was too busy thinking about you to really capture the conversation.

the pilots find their place in  their seats as the room dims. you shuffle into the stage alongside your dad. this was an esteemed event. it wasn’t held every year. much to the unfairness of the previous generation graduates, the gala was held every time the amount of graduates exceed the projected amount. this was honestly more of a connections event. previous legends, special DAA registrars, important persons, etc. the graduates can figure out how they want to approach such treat, (like the pilots talking to your father.)  however unfair, the other previous graduates who aren’t given the lavish gala treatment do get compensations, so in a way, everybody can win, depending on how individuals look at it. 

your father takes the mic in his hand, his arm resting on the podium. the chatting halts. you had always admired your dads ability to command a room. probably why he was so good at his job. he clears his throat,

 “ladies, and gentleman, esteemed faculty, distinguished guests, and most importantly, the graduates of today. it is an absolute honor to stand before you today as we celebrate the incredible achievement of these exceptional men and women. today marks the culmination of years of dedication, hard work, and sacrifice that have led to this very moment, where you are no longer just students, but now, graduates of one of the most prestigious and demanding programs in the world. graduates – your journey has been demanding, and you’ve proven yourselves capable of not only mastering the art of flying, but leading with integrity and making critical decisions, when it matters most. you’ve earned your place here, and the skies are now yours to navigate.”

you smile gently, looking around– as best as you can from the damned spotlight, but you barely could see a thing in a sea of dark blue. caleb listens in absolute awe, but he couldn’t help stare you down. you were quite literally the apple of his eye. he had never seen anyone with the beauty that you possess. his lips curve into a slight grin as he watches you look around. a part of him hoped you were looking for him.

“as pilots, you’ll continue to learn and grow, but always remember; you are more than prepared. you are part of a proud legacy, and it is your time to carry that forward. on behalf of all of us here, congratulations, we are incredibly proud of you. fly high, stay safe, and may your journey be as remarkable as the achievement we celebrate today. thank you.” 

your father nods, and the entire room erupts with a thunderous applause, that you almost- just almost teared up at how wonderfully put that speech was. you clap alongside the audience and he steps back, allowing you to take reins of the podium. you smile, a little too wide, but you were giddy with excitement,

“hello everybody– i surely cannot top my fathers congratulation speech for you all but i will definitely do my best.” you hear an eruption of laughter before you go on, “today we stand here not only to celebrate your incredible achievements, but to acknowledge the bright future ahead of you. you’ve all worked tirelessly to reach this moment, and we are immensely proud of each one of you. in recognition of your hard work and the vital role you will play in the future of aviation, we are thrilled to announce a generous donation of 5.5 billion diamonds (dollars?), which will go toward supporting your ongoing training and development.” the entire room erupts in gasps, hushed whispers. your own fathers eyes shoot open, clearly surprised about the insane lump sum. you chuckled into the mic, sultry, deep– something that woke caleb’s neurons up. alongside his friends, he was clapping loud.

“additionally… in a gesture of commitment to your success, we are excited to gift a dozen state of the art aircraft to your training fleet, ensuring that the future of aviation continues to soar to new heights.” another round of applause, even louder than the last. it was starting to deafen you, but you smile, continuing, “these contributions are a testament to the belief in your potential and bright future you are all shaping. you have proven that you are ready for the skies, and now you have the tools to continue reaching for the stars. congratulations to each of you, and we look forward to seeing all you will accomplish. fly high, and know that this is the just beginning of an extraordinary journey.” you close, and the room erupts one last time, whistles flying around. caleb stands up, along with his friends, giving you and your dad an ovation, even though this was an event for you all. 

you bow as you make your way down the stage. photographers snap a picture of you and your father as you both make your way towards the graduates. you were looking for that handsome hunk in particular. 

as your eyes dart around, caleb stands up, slowly making his way towards you. he’d tower a couple of people around him, but your eyes connect. as he starts to move his feet he feels a sudden yank. “caleb!! you did it!!” his childhood best friend squeals– his pipsqueak, dragging him down, her lips connecting with his cheeks and her arms snake around his neck and shoulders, dragging him down. you take notice of that, your eyes not breaking contact with each other, and you watch as he drops his hat on the ground from the sudden motion he’d experience. 

‘oh well of course the hot one has a fucking girlfriend’ you think, finally breaking eye contact. you were definitely not going to look at a man who was taken. not even one bit. another vent to add to the group chat later. 

[countingdots-tc]

TEACHER/STUDENT BOOK RECS

*if you want me to add a forbidden romance list, let me know*

𓃠 This is a list with hyperlinks to books that have teacher/student, age gap, and experienced/less experienced themes that I have read! These are in order from most recommended to least recommended based on my opinion.

𓃠 This will be updated as I read more! Think something should be added to the list? then let me know!

𓃠 Happy reading!

⭐️= highly recommend/changed my life

😇= no smut

🌶️=contains smut

💦=read to really get your rocks off

highlighted=warning

PROFESSOR/COACH BOOK LIST

The Unrequited by Saffron A. Kent-⭐️😇

ProfessorxStudent & mental health themes

Cute little poet embarrassingly falls for her grumpy professor. Beautiful slow burn and perfectly describes what it feels like to want someone and not feel enough for them. She is such a realistic female lead and reminds me a lot of y’all 😂. This is THE teacher crush community book. If you don’t read anything, read this!!

The Professor by Invi Wright-⭐️🌶️

ProfessorxStudent

Cute romance by young, new, and self published author. Very relatable female lead. If you enjoyed The Unrequited, you will like this book for all of the same reasons. Quick and easy read, only 240. She isn’t perfect, she’s clumsy, and I wouldn’t even say she’s socially awkward, she’s just a normal college student in her early 20s. She’s a fun narrator. This author has a lot of potential and her writing will only get better.

Gabriel’s Inferno by Slyvain Reynard-⭐️😇

ProfessorxStudent

Such a good dark academia book. Beautifully written and actually has a movie adaptation. I would definitely recommend this if you want a realistic couple but a bit more serious. Characters have so much depth

Off Balance Series by Lucia Franco- 💦

CoachxStudent

Warning: female lead is age of consent NOT legal age.

If you want something really forbidden and fucked up, read this. If you want the MOST insane sex scenes, read this (MINORS STOP). I really don’t even want to add this series to this list but for the girls who wanna go there, have fun. I started this when I was still in high school, read the 3rd one as an adult, it’s not as easy to read now. Take that info as you please. With that being said, it’s one of the best writing and plots I’ve ever read. Lucia Franco’s other work is 😍

The Professor by Skye Warren-🌶️

ProfessorxStudent

Also an ex-boyfriend’s dad book! This book was amazing! Read it in a day and immediately pre ordered the second. The plot twist in this book made me throw my phone! Narrator/FMC is a bit less relatable for me. Has a secret society plot! Potentially brooding Professor

The 4th Degree by Nikki Castle- 💦

MMA CoachxStudent

Warning: parent death & parent w/ chronic illness

Coach is so broody but has a big heart, he just doesn’t like to show it. FMC has so much depth and is really mature for a 19 y.o. Coach is a quiet character with a dirty mouth. Doesn’t talk much but when he does??? The tension between them is chefs kiss. Not too much a a slow burn. “Will they, won’t they, will they, won’t they” vibes.

Lessons In Sin by Pam Goodwin-🌶️

TeacherxStudent with 18 Y.O female lead

Troubled rich girl gets sent off to a catholic boarding school and falls for the asshole Dean of the school. Smut is pretty good, plot works. I’m not going to say it’s bad, I think whether or not it’s enjoyable depends on the person. It wasn’t bad, I just wasn’t obsessed. If you’re just trying to live vicariously through her (aren’t we all), then it works!

Teach Me by L. L. Ash-🌶️

ProfessorxStudent

Really good start, and I do mean GREAT start… I just feel like the sex scene came too soon (Ch. 9/32) and it threw me off but I also like SUPER slow burns. It’s still a good book. I enjoyed the male love interest, Professor Harlo. They’re cute together. Grump and Sunshine.

Waking Olivia by Elizabeth O’Roark

CoachxCollege Athlete & mental health themes

Great concept! Rare that you see two moody & broody MCs… not my favorite execution of it. It’s not so bad that i think it’s objectively bad. I could see where someone else likes it. But I don’t. Why are they grumpily ogling each others bodies by the 3rd chapter? If you just need ur fix, it works. Has potential

Dark Notes by Pam Goodwin-

TeacherxStudent & themes of abuse

Probably DNF-ing

AGE GAP BOOK LIST

Something In The Way Series by Jessica Hawkins-⭐️😇

Sister’s Boyfriend/Husband & “I saw him first”

Most beautiful romance series I’ve ever read, best written books by Jessica Hawkins. I recommend all of her other books. Lake is 16 when she first meets Manning but nothing sexual happens between them for another 3 books until she’s in her 20s. Beautiful slow burn with characters full of depth.

Sinner by Sierra Simone- ⭐️💦

Brother’s Best Friend & religious themes

Amazing character creation and mapping. These characters feel real! This book is about “teaching” a girl about sex before she becomes a nun. It’s not just a bang bang, hump hump book. It has heart and it really good. If you enjoy religious themed romance, you may enjoy Priest by Sierra Simone too. I didn’t 💀

Birthday Girl by Penelope Douglas- 💦

Ex’s Dad

Most popular forbidden romance so whatever you’ve heard about it, dump it. This might be the most tame book on this list. Pacing is good, well written main character. Insane amounts of smut but it doesn’t drive the story forward so feel free to skip it if you get tired.

Love Unexpected by Q. B. Tyler- 💦

Ex Stepdad & parent death

This book is HOT! However after the first few scenes, I got a bit tired of the smut. Well written enough female lead with a rushed ending. However if you just need something to read and not despise it, it’s good enough.

Strictly Off Limits by Jessica Hawkins-🌶️

Dad’s Best Friend

Jessica is my favorite author so I’m a bit biased but she definitely isn’t a smut writer. This novella would’ve been better without smut however it isn’t super present and doesn’t really drive the story forward so don’t feel like you’re missing anything if you skip the smut!

The Doctor by Nikki Sloane- 💦

Ex’s Dad

personally didn’t care for this book, smut starts off way too quick and I’m more of a slow burn girl. It is a novella yet, it was still too quick. However! You may love it <3

𓃠 If I’m not reading fast enough for you and you want to see what I will be reading in the future here is my Amazon TBR, have at it!

𓃠 If you want to see a more organized bookshelf of what I’ve read, here is my Goodreads!

[millersfinest]

the thing in your chest that beats ³ | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 5.3k

mini-series: california | oregon | idaho (you’re here) | wyoming

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: angry!r, slow-burn romance, proximity trope, both reader and ellie on a path of redemption, afab body parts mentioned, vulgar language, some joel references, inner guilt, use of ‘y/n’ and ‘woman’, ellie has a panic attack, shambler appearance (ew), and for the fun part… SMUT, switch!reader, oral sex, fingering ( :P ), barely any dirty talk because this is a loving experience y’all (and i don’t really know how to write that lmao), ellie might be a little ooc but i just perceive her to be this way idk.

note: to start… if anyone needs anyone to talk to after hearing the results of the election, please don’t be afraid to direct message me. especially my fellow american queer/trans friends. we are truly in some tough times right now. i hope this chapter can serve as some sort of distraction for what’s going on. as always, enjoyy!

Idaho

Welcome to the Gem State, the sign read when you passed the state line into Idaho a few days ago. The place you’ve been dreaming of was getting closer and closer—that feeling of relief was near! You could feel it bubbling in your stomach, enriching the nerves that ran under your sore muscles.

Since Oregon, you and Ellie had barely shared a full conversation. It’s only been small directions, or helpful interjections with infected, or even, guidance in getting around potentially dangerous people.

This time around, you harbored most of the frustration and anger. Wrath wrapped itself around you once more, forbidding you from wondering what her inquiries meant—what bringing up Honey meant. Ellie tried to service you the best she could, trying to make up physically for what she couldn’t vocally. Resuming her position as your caretaker, but that only made things worse.

The wounds and weaknesses of Santa Barbara were healing but were being replaced by new ones. Surface cuts, sprained ankles, and scorned hearts. Ellie could ask you nothing without the pitch of your voice raising an octave. It wasn’t anything like the character she knew you to be.

Or the months you spent together thus far meant nothing—she never actually knew anything about you.

The annotated map relied in your hands as you approached an administrative building. You had spent the previous night planning the route, instead of engaging in small talk with your partner. You were, somehow, still trying to prove to Ellie that you didn’t need her. Indulging in an individual competition of: who does it better? It was a drastic understatement to call you a competitive person. And her incessant need to make up for the misfortune of her curiosity wasn’t helping.

“Here’s the firm…” You mutter, immediately trotting to the front doors. American Falls Firm. Pulling at the handle, you realized it was locked and barricaded from the inside. Huffing, you folded up the map, sliding it into your backpack. “Looks like we gotta find another way in.” Dusting your hands, you began to survey different sides of the building. She followed behind you, keeping an eye out for lingering infected and any other inhibitors.

Humming to yourself, you squinted at the broken window above you. Turning your head, you peered at the auburn-haired woman who’s back faced you. Your Beretta resided in her hands as she kept a keen eye on the surroundings. Ellie didn’t mind doing that job because it kept her mind from wanting appeal to you. It kept her from wanting to beg for your forgiveness. After all, this was just her doing you a debtless favor. She shouldn’t have been so attached to you anyway.

“Hey,” You waved her over. “I need a boost.”

She met your eyes, nodding with firm lips. “Sure,” Slinging the shotgun around her body, she bent at the knee and cupped her hands low. Placing your hands on her shoulders, your irises danced over her features, briefly. Dirt attempted to blend in with the freckles over her nose, but they didn’t stand a chance—you knew the difference. Her olive eyes did well to avoid yours, feigning a look of impatience. “Up you go.”

Ellie boosted you up toward the window with all the strength she could muster. Fingers catching onto the edge of where the floor and window meant. Using your own strength, you pulled yourself into a room illuminated by daylight. Groaning under your breath from the stretch of your muscles. Crouching, you leaned back down to pull Ellie up.

Her hand attached to your forearm, crawling up the stone wall and into the room. Ellie hissed as she crawled inside, holding her wrapped ankle to alleviate some of the pain. Standing to your feet, you looked down at her with flickers of concern in your eyes.

The other day, she tripped over a thick fallen tree branch from the morning dew—spraining or straining her ankle, you couldn’t remember the difference. All you knew was that she hurt her ankle badly, but it wasn’t broken. Ellie wrapped it herself with athletic tape from your bag; with her back facing you in embarrassment.

“Can we keep going, or do you need a second?” You inquire, avoiding your eyes, dismissively. Like you didn’t care what her response was, even though you did.

“I’m fine…” She stood to her feet, wringing out her foot.

“You sure?”

“I said I’m fine…” Ellie grumbled, walking off to another side of the room.

It was a barren office that the both of you meandered through. Picking at the miscellaneous items that could serve you in any way. There were two desks that occupied the office; decorated with familial picture frames and old-world gadgets that made no sense to either of you.

Slowly, pushing open the door, the entire building appeared silent. Light peaking through broken and foggy windows, greenery growing inside and through the deteriorating structure. You found it rather beautiful that the earth was taking back what was hers—negating the infected, of course. Your fingers traced the vines that grew through the cement. Those plants were living despite opposition; everyone could learn something from that.

Breaking through barriers and walls, despite their resilience.

You glanced at the auburn-haired woman, keeping a safe distance from you, scoping out the place. “What’s the route out of here?” She asks, dragging her sneakers against the cracked floors. There was a slight limp to her gait, but made sure to walk as normal as possible when your eyes were set on her.

Blowing air from your lips, you respond. “The ground floor. There should be a stairwell around here somewhere.”

Usually, lower floors of abandoned buildings worried you. Infected find themselves huddled in their own corrosion. In darker, moister, places they intensified. Some merging to the walls, other growing boils of acid.

When your eyes set on a metal door that led to the floor you needed to get to, your heart pumped blood into your veins. Pounding in your ears as an alarm. Through the window, white flurries fluttered by, confirming the one thing you were concerned about: over-developed infected.

“Mask up. Spores.” You swing your bag around to dig for your mask.

Ellie did the same, with slight hesitation. “Is the this only way through?”

You nodded, tightening the strap around your head. “Yeah, if we still wanna knock off some time.” Opening the door, you armed yourself with the pistol that sat snuggly in the waistband of your jeans. The walls were adorned in the crusty corrosion of the sick, bubbling in corners. You frowned under your mask, stepping slowly down the stairs. Ellie following behind you with the same caution, shotgun drawn.

Errk!

Both of you stopped moving in the stairwell at the sound of a clicker. You swear under your breath, glancing at your partner. “We’ve got company.” She muttered, nodding at you to go forward.

Moments like this was when you relied on her the most, but you’d never admit it. It was nice to not have to endure circumventing infected alone. Ellie was your backup, and you were hers. Even if you were still upset with her—underground that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was staying alive.

Navigating through the dark, with your lights flickered on, the both of you managed to stealthily kill the clickers wandering around. But when a pair of crusted hands leaped from the wall, pushing you onto the ground… Another beast was alerted.

With the sound of Ellie’s shotgun, a loud monstrous grumble rumbled from down the hall. You pushed the stalker to the side, scrambling to your feet. “Ellie, how many bullets do we have?” You asked her, adrenaline pumping through your body.

She checked the chamber, cursing. “Fuck! Three rounds.”

Picking up the pistol from the ground, you checked the magazine. Only a few bullets. The shambler began to stomp, approaching the two of you, increasing into a run. “We gotta go!” You grab her hand, tugging her a tight hole in the wall; tall enough for you to slip through.

Running into the room, you realized there wasn’t an exit. There was only a door, but it led back out into the hallway. The quick call you made to evade the boiling beast, was a mistake. Before you could even regret the decision, the shambler bursted through the wall.

Without command, Ellie began firing the shotgun. First bullet. Second bullet. Third bullet—she was out. It roared, releasing puffs of acid. You both dodged by the skin of your teeth, running around the room like frightened mice. Now, it was your turn to unleash pointless blows to the creature. Emptying the rest of your magazine into the bulbous creature did nothing but anger it. Somehow, it found a way to creep up behind you and Ellie, taking her by the throat.

“Ellie!” You exclaimed, voice trembling in horror. Her hands scratched at its arms, pounding to be set free.

A pipe leaned out of a wall as an escape route, a message from God—fate, prying at you. Using the strength of a scared shitless person, you yanked the pipe free, falling back onto your butt. Quickly, you stood up and began hacking at the thing. Sounds of effort and defensive fear leaving your lips. Dropping Ellie onto the ground, he turned to you, roaring. However, your hacking at his body didn’t stop until he was on his knees. Gurgles left his corroded and bubbled mouth, but you used it as bait to make your final blow.

Heaving over its corpse, your back hunched, the pipe slipping from your sweaty grip. She coughed, reminding you of her presence, slumped against the wall. Her breath began to grow heavy, hand on her chest.

“Oh, my God— Ellie!” You crouched beside her, unsure where to place your shaking hands. She attempted to crack a smile, to pretend she was fine, but she wasn’t. The imperative organ in her chest beat faster than it should have, knocking the wind out of her. She couldn’t breathe—at least it felt like she couldn’t.

Ellie was panicking.

“Hey,” You tried, deepening your eyebrows, sliding your hands from her shoulders to her neck, to her trembling jaw. “Ellie,” Her hand shot up to grip your wrist with vigor, looking into your eyes, intensely. “Ellie, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Your free hand pushed strangling hair from sticking to the plastic of her mask.

The grip on your wrist moved to the entrapment on her face. She began to claw at it, whining. “No…” You attempt to stop her fast, strong movements, but she shoved you away. “Ellie— no! What the fuck are you doing?!”

She peeled the mask off her face, taking the deepest breaths you’ve ever seen. Leaning back, your eyes watered, watching her gasp for toxic air. Ellie pushed the strands of her hair off her face, leaning her head against the cement of the wall. Her heart was settling, but then she looked to you. Olive eyes meeting your teary ones. “What the- what d-did you just do?” You stammered. “Ellie…”

You enunciated her name with such weariness that it made her feel guilty. Still, getting herself together from her panic attack, she felt the need to console you. But she didn’t have the energy.

Breathing heavily under your mask, you watch as nothing happened to her. She doesn’t convulse, choking on the toxic elements in the air. There was nothing different about her. Absolutely nothing.

“I can…” Ellie breathed. “I can explain later. Let’s just get outta here first, all right?”

Having no choice but to believe her, you stood to your feet. Reaching down for her hand. When you pulled her up, her ankle gave out on her. “Shit,” Ellie cursed, furrowing her eyebrows. “The harder they fall, huh?” She dryly chuckled.

You frowned, wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

Unamused, you found a way out of the ground floor. Unmasking at the first sight of daylight. You didn’t have to travel far with Ellie’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. The only place that was able to receive your weak bodies was a little bookstore around the corner.

It was clustered inside. Book aisles placed close together, where only a single body could shimmy through. A pair of metal stairs spiraled up the back of the store, leading to another floor of books. Dropping all of your things, including Ellie’s arm, you stalked up those rusty steps with hot tears welling into your eyes.

Ellie leaned against a bookshelf, pressing her lips into a line. Watching every harsh step you took, ascending up the stairs. Her own eyes began to fill with tears, glancing down at her shaking hands. Before they could fall, she harshly wiped her face and decided to busy herself. It wasn’t a bad time to take inventory.

Upstairs, you found yourself huddled in a corner. Hot tears streaming down your cheeks, weeping as low as you could. The tears falling down your face was a release of fright. You realized something on that ground floor that you wish you hadn’t. That freckled stranger you had come upon, or who had come upon you, in Santa Barbara was becoming a meaningful person in your life. Unbeknownst to you! Ellie had snuck up on you like a rodent in disguise.

That distant figure that once hovered in dim lighting who you didn’t trust has become so much more. You trusted her with your fucking life. And it only took a few months on the road.

Having barely recovered from the threat of that shambler, she snatched her mask off like it was nothing. In those few second, your heart beat so loud it stalled time. You thought she was going to die right in front of you, willingly.

It took you back to a moment in your past—the death of your mother. Before you reached Catalina Island, your mother sacrificed herself to ensure that you made it there. She gave you her mask to take the spores head-on. Promising that she’d hold her breath; at fifteen, you were silly to believe her.

Just then, Ellie’s gasps proved your immediate worries and fears wrong. She wasn’t going to die in front of you like your mother did. The viral spores on that floor didn’t kill her. Making you wonder: who the fuck were you traveling with?

Wiping your face, messily, you wander back down the rusted steps of the bookstore. You spot her with both of your bags opened, going through the supplies you had. Counting under her breath. When her strained eyes caught yours, she ceased all movement.

“You know,” She began, looking at the hand that was missing her pinky and ring finger, massaging her palm. “I think, that was the most you’ve ever said my name.”

You frowned, walking through the aisles, cheeks stained with tears. “What the fuck was that back there?” The sound of your voice was weak and frail.

“A panic attack…”

“I’m talking about the mask, Ellie. You breathed spores…?”

She licked her lips, averting her olive eyes. “I’m immune…”

A beat passed between the two of you, roping around your still bodies.

Ellie watched how your lips quivered, like you wanted to cry. The redness in your eyes made her frown. “I just— in the moment… I couldn’t breathe. I needed to take it off—“

“How do you know?” You abruptly ask. “How do you know that you’re immune? What if it just… I don’t know… Takes longer to develop in your system?”

“y/n…” She remorsefully spoke. “I was bitten when I was fourteen.” Ellie rolls up the sleeve of her jacket, pushing her tattooed arm toward you.

Pressing your lips together, you walk forward, taking her arm in your hands. Her forearm was covered in evergreen ink. Taking your hand, she guided your fingers over the eruptions in her skin. Abrasions. Hidden beneath the adoration of the tattoo. You never noticed this before. “I had a lot of time to know if this was real…” Ellie muttered, peering at you. Insecurity leaking from her pores.

You met her eyes, opening and closing your lips, trying figure out the words you wanted to say. “Who are you?” You examined the features you’ve come to know. “And don’t walk away this time— you have no choice but to tell me.” A chortle falls from your lips, causing her stiffness in her shoulders to loosen.

And so, Ellie told you as much as she could. She told you about how she got bitten. She told you about Riley. She told you about Joel and Tommy—about the fireflies—and about Joel, again. She told you about Dina and Jesse. And then, she told you about Abby. The familiarity of her name caused you to perk up. You knew of her from the resort; it was her and a little boy. However, the version she told you about aligned nothing with the version that you knew of.

“I went to Santa Barbara because I wanted to put an end to my suffering and Tommy’s— I wanted to kill her.” Ellie confessed, leaning her head back against the books pushed into the shelves. The two of you sat opposite of each other in a book aisle, knees grazing every so often. “I thought that would fix everything… But, when I saw her on that pillar…” She shook her head, running her hand through her hair. “For a second, I wasn’t going to do it. She led me to that beach, holding that kid, and I was gonna leave.”

Ellie blinked, remembering that empty feeling she felt on that day. Guilt crawling through her for something that was never in her control. You watched her speak, intently, with deepened eyebrows. “Then, I remembered. I remembered what she did— what she took from me, and I couldn’t let her go. I threatened that little boy, and I made her fight me. She didn’t want to, but I made her.”

“Did you kill her…?” You asked, slowly.

She chortled, wiping her teary eyes. “No. She took my fucking fingers, and I let her go.” The laugh she released was dry, and without humor. “It was like… Everything that I’ve done, leading up to that day, was all for nothing. All the people that I hurt— that I killed just to get to her… It was all for nothing.” Her voice cracked, tears rolling down her cheeks. Ellie couldn’t stop them this time.

You reached for her knee, caressing your thumb over the fabric of her jeans. She peered up at you, through her thick, wet eyelashes with a sort of surprise. Ellie didn’t think you’d stick around after hearing about her truth. You, a victim of the rattlers, empathizing with a murderer.

Before that, though, you were a firefly. You more than just a victim.

“How could I ever think of you as a bad person after what I’ve done?” She pressed her plump lips into a line, shaking her head. “That wasn’t what I meant at all… I was just trying to figure you out. I worded it all wrong— I’m sorry.” Ellie apologized with such frailty, you had no choice but to accept.

“Don’t be sorry, Ellie…”

“I’m beginning to realize I’m not really good with people.”

You squeeze her knee. “That’s not true. I think we get along great.” You shrug, attempting to lighten up the mood. Her lips curled at the corners, reaching for the hand on her knee, placing hers over yours. A silence bounced between you—eyes boring into each other’s, looking through each other. “I also think… You did what you thought was best…” You voiced, nodding affirmatively. “I probably would’ve, somehow, done worse.”

She scoffed, drawing circles on the back of your hand, absentmindedly. “Worse? You couldn’t have done worse.”

“You’d be surprised.” You lifted your eyebrows. “Not to beat a dead horse or anything, but as a firefly… When you’re told to do something, you do it.” Shrugging, you remove your hand from hers, crossing your arms. “I’m not a saint, Ellie. I’ve done loads of shit that I’m not proud of.” You looked down at your knees, frowning. “If some girl killed someone I cared about right in front of me… It would have been the last thing she ever did. Shit, I’ve killed people for less.”

You paused, eyebrows twitching. The image of a guardian angel came into your mind—Honey. “It should’ve been me in that house… In Santa Barbara.” Squeezing your eyes shut, tears began to fall down your cheeks once more. Angry, mourning tears. “It’s like… The Lord gave me second chance to do better— or was it fate? I don’t fucking know…”

Ellie blinked, having a severe déjà vu moment. Somehow the words spoken in her past, have managed to resurface. If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment, I would do it all over again. Spoken by your pretty mouth, instead of someone else’s. “I’d probably be just like Honey if it weren’t for you— dead. And I still don’t know what makes me worth saving, but I’m grateful. I’m grateful for you.” You sniffed, lips quivering while looking at the auburn-haired woman.

She swallowed, moving from her spot across from you to sit beside you. If only she had the courage to say those words to Joel. If only her resentment didn’t run so deep—perhaps, her guilt for his death wouldn’t be so strong. “Everything about you is worth saving… You’re like a lucky charm.”

You leaned your head back against the books, looking at her. “A lucky charm, huh?”

“Hell yeah! I mean, you totally whooped that shambler’s ass. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Hitting her arm, you giggle, keeping your eyes on the bookshelf in front of you. “Seriously, y/n…” Her humored tone faded as she trained her eyes on the side of your face, urging you to just look at her. To meet her eyes as passionately as she wanted to meet yours. It could’ve been the vulnerability that pulsed around the room, but she needed to see you. Her body ached for touch—perhaps, your touch. Ellie needed consolation for her confession.

Finally, your eyes drift toward hers. Not realizing how close her body was to yours. Shoulders, arms, hips, knees touching as if you were conjoined by the hip. Her eyes were prettier close up. They were greener than the evergreen that grew up desolate buildings. The freckles on her damaged skin could be connected like constellations—how come you never noticed this before? You wanted to trace the scar over her top lip and the one in her eyebrow with your finger, not just with your eyes.

The only thing that could be heard was your uneven, nervous breaths. Ellie moved her face closer to yours, just enough to tease, to ask for your permission without using her words. Her olive eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes. Weakly, you nodded, chewing on the corner of your bottom lip.

Her hands settled on your face, pulling you to hers. Meeting her lips with your lips, softly and patiently. Placing your hands on her wrists, you pull away, analyzing her features. Full lips were parted, wantonly. Pushing forward, you resumed the kiss with more intensity.

Whining against her lips, you got onto your knees, kicking your leg over her legs. Settling on her lap, her hands moved to your hips, kneading them. Her lips beginning to trail down your jaw; they were wet and hot kisses, causing your hips to roll on their own. Pleasured sighs fled from your swollen parted lips, holding onto her shoulders. “Ellie— Ellie, are you sure about this?” You question, with your eyes fluttered shut.

Against the sensitive skin of your neck, she spoke. “Beyond sure…” She muttered, littering your neck with love bites. Then, she pauses, pulling back to look up at you. Her hands still on your hips, pulling them to a stop to get your attention. “Are you sure about this?” Her pupils were blown out, adoringly.

You massaged her tense shoulders, licking your lips. The sight of her made your skin warm and tingly. “I’m fucking sure.” You smiled, playing with ends of her auburn strands. Leaning down, you pressed your lips against hers again, with fervor.

The both of you needed this—human connection. Even if it was short-lived, or temporary.

Ellie pushed at the flannel over your arms, tossing it to the side. Then, it was your knit shirt. She rolled it up from your abdomen, you lift your arms so she could remove it. Lastly, was your sports bra. She pulled it over your head, eyes marveling at the sight before her. Her calloused hands ran down the bare sides of your back, lips trailing down your sternum.

Running your hands over her hair, she latched her lips around one of your nipples. Sucking and nibbling at the sensitive nerves. A moan escapes your throat, arching your back into her. Your hips buck on top of her lap, begging for her touch elsewhere. “My lucky charm…” She mutters against your skin, kneading your other breast.

You end up with your back on the hard floor of the bookstore. Your hands pulling off her clothes like your life depended on it. She pulled your pants off, leaving you both only in your underwear.

Ellie kissed you, again, pressing her chest against yours. Her knee slotted between your legs, pushing her thigh against your clothed core. You could feel her grinding against your propped up leg, moaning into your mouth. Calloused hand gripping the back of your thigh. Sloppily, your lips trail to the side of her face, airy moans releasing beside her ear. “Ellie, please, touch me…” Wantonly, you pleaded, clenching the roots of her hair.

With her hot lips against your jaw, nibbling at your ear, she obliged. Drifting her hand down the center of your bodies, rubbing you over your underwear. Propping herself up on her other arm, she peered down at you. A pout resting on your wet lips, narrowing your eyes at her. One-handed, she slides your underwear to the side, running her middle finger up your center. Spreading your slick over that sensitive bud awaiting her focus. Ellie chews on her bottom lip, watching you shudder under her touch. “Right there?”

You respond with the tremble of your thighs and the heaving of your chest. She cracked a charming smile, eyes hazing at the sight of you.

Slipping two fingers into your cunt, she moans with you, curling her fingers slowly. Your hands roam her toned stomach, squeezing at her breasts, but you were losing focus. “S— So fucking good— ah!” Pulling her fingers out of you, she lowered herself. Kissing the scars and bruises that littered your abdomen. Her movements briefly confused you, until you felt her mouth on the inner parts of your thighs.

She pulled your underwear down your legs, tossing them aside. Then, she was on you, mouth hot over your cunt. Suckling on your clit, thrusting her tongue into you—eating you like she was starving. Your mouth fell ajar, grasping at her hair for something to hold onto. “Fuck, Ellie!” You whine, bucking your hips toward her face.

Her olive irises looked up at you between your legs, glimmering with lust. Arching your back, feeling that tightness coiling under your muscles, a lewd sound comes from your throat. Something between a moan and a yelp.

Sooner than later, your release comes crashing over you. Like a breath of fresh air. Legs clamping around her head, pushing her closer to your heat. Her lips making out with your pussy, bringing you down from your high. “Oh, my God…” You mutter, massaging her scalp with your fingers.

She crawls up your body like a lustrous lioness, letting your taste yourself on her lips. Your hands gripped at the fat of her ass, biting her bottom lip with your teeth. Ellie gasped, angling your face with her hand, groaning against your lips.

Sliding your index finger under the hem of her boxer-short underwear, you yank them down. “Damn…” Ellie mutters, kicking off her underwear the rest of the way. “You’re quick.” She chuckles, as you flip her onto her back. Running your lips down her neck, biting her skin.

“I want you… Can you blame me?”

You gripped at her hips, but when she winced you stopped. Peering down at her hip bone, a stitching remained there. Red and a little irritated. “It’s fine. Keep goin’, please.” Ellie tried, reaching for your hand.

Lowering your body, you kissed around the irritated wound, gently. Ellie watched you, chewing on her lip. Holding onto her hand, you kissed lower and lower. Through the hairs over her mound, the inner parts of her thigh—lightly over her cunt. She twitched, bashfully trying to shut her legs. But your hands braced her thighs.

Breathing her in, you licked a line up her center, making eye contact with her. An airy sound left her parted lips, free hand tweaking her nipples. “Yeah… Yeah…” She chanted, rocking herself against your face. You lick at her clit before sucking it into your mouth, her hips jolting at the feeling. Fluttering your eyes shut, you spend time on her sensitive bud, messily. Your non-dominant hand still holding onto Ellie’s, her grip tightening every second.

Taking your other hand, you insert your middle and ring finger into her core. Looking up at her reaction, while you made love to her clit. “Fuck, yes!” She enunciated her words lustily, drawing them out. Popping her bud from your lips, you begin to curl your fingers. Her wanton moans bouncing off the bookshelves around you.

“You’re so pretty like this.” You whisper, mainly to yourself, as you gaze at her in awe. Ellie was always so rough around the edges, but under you she was different. Her scarred body shook under you, in pleasure. She was in her element.

She moaned your name, riding your fingers. The muscles in her abdomen clenching, the grip on your hand getting harder. Taking that as your cue, you began to make out with her pussy. Only bringing her closer and closer to that breaking coil.

When the sparks in her stomach bursted into flames, a string of curse words fell from her lips. Her back arching off the hardwood floor, fingers pinching her tits. Her slick was all over your mouth, as you crawled back up her body.

Hungrily, she found your lips. Pushing your bare bodies together, you lazily made out—winding yourselves down.

Orange hues of the sun setting peaked through the windows, and the empty parts of the shelves. A burnt orange cast, glazing over your bodies like a blanket. Your legs intertwined, arms draped over shoulders, wrapped around waists; you were comfortable like this. Ellie was comfortable like this.

Parting your lips, she peppered small kisses along your jaw, before laying her head on your chest. “There’s a couch upstairs…” You breathe, playing in her hair.

“You say this now…?” She looked up at you, fingers rubbing circles on your bare hips.

A chuckle fell from your lips, your thumb caressing her flushed cheeks. “Heat of the moment!”

She sucked her teeth, nuzzling her head into your neck. “Whatever, you filthy woman.”

“Hey! You’re the one who took my clothes off.”

“You let me take your clothes off.” She nibbled at the skin of your throat, squeezing the fat of your hip.

You pressed your lips together, amused, running your fingers down her freckled back. “We could go up to the couch now.” You offered.

Ellie shook her head, hooking her leg around yours to pull herself closer to you. “No, just wanna lay here for a while…”

And you did just that. Laid with each other until your backs ached enough to move to the couch upstairs. Only to resume the position on the itchy cushions until the sun came back around to drag you both back onto the road.

[jjkssin]

Midnight whispers. [Part- I]

Pairing: Married jk x (fem) reader

Genre: Dark Romance|Angst|Tragedy

Character count: 12,476

Tropes: Forbidden love, toxic relationship, infidelity, suicide , heavy angst, power dynamics, emotional conflict, dominant jk.

Summary: Jeon , a ruthless man bound by duty, his heart claimed by a woman he can never make his own. He gives her everything but denies her the one thing she craves: commitment. When love turns into an ultimatum, fate delivers a devastating price.

The city shimmered under the weight of night, its skyline veiled in a haze of cold indifference, much like the man who owned Y/N’s heart and shackled her soul. Her fingers trembled around the stem of a coffee cup untouched and long forgotten.

He was late again. Jeon. He was a man carved by the ruthlessness of time, hardened by experience and bound by obligations he could not escape. The man who owned her in ways deeper than mere possession. The man who loved her yet refused to give her the title she so desperately craved.

The sound of the front door unlocking sent a shiver down her spine. The air shifted, the overwhelming presence of him filling the space like a storm cloud.

“You’re late,” she murmured, not turning to look at him.

Jeon sighed, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as he loosened the top buttons of his black dress shirt. He was exhausted, but the weight of responsibility was something he bore with grace. “Business.”

She scoffed. “Your business always comes before me right.”

“Don’t start.” His voice was dangerously low, a warning.

She turned then, eyes burning. “I’m not starting anything!" Her voice wavered. “I hate being hidden."

"Voice low infront of me." He was older, patient and always in control except when it came to her.

He walked to her his presence both soothing and suffocating. He pulled her to him, tilting her face up to meet his. His dark eyes bore into hers. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. " Why don't you don’t understand? This world....my world isn’t kind. If I expose you, you will become a target. This life will destroy you."

Her lips trembled, but she held her ground. “That doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, her mind clouded with rage and jealousy.

She was his mistress. The woman he loved but could never claim. It started as a simmering jealousy, a quiet resentment toward the life Jeon had outside of her. She had seen the pictures, the moments on social media his perfect family. His wife, smiling with that elegance Y/N could never quite embody. But it wasn’t until one fateful night, when the simmering jealousy reached its boiling point, that everything erupted.

He had married for status, not for love. His wife bore him a son the heir he needed to secure his empire. But Jeon’s heart had never belonged to the woman who carried his name—it had always belonged to Y/N.

The storm brewing in his gaze darkened, his jaw clenching. He exhaled slowly, measured. "You know you what you mean to me."

"Do I?" A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

"Must be nice to have someone who actually matters in your life. Someone who you’re proud of. Someone who isn’t hidden away. She spat the word, venom curling around it "gets to stand beside you in public wearing your name!"

His lips pressed into a firm line, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You're acting like a child."

“Well the child you have with her is just your fucking legacy, isn’t she? Your heir. Your perfect little daughter. Your bloodline. You don’t even care about her beyond that,” Y/N spat, her chest tightening with the bitterness that had taken root inside her.

His patience, vast as the ocean, wavered. “ It's how it has to be.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “No, Jeon. That’s how you choose it to be. You hide me like I’m something to be ashamed of while she gets to live under your name, play your perfect wife, and bear your child. And for what? Politics? Status?”

Jeon moved then, slow, measured steps closing the distance between them. His hand reached up, calloused fingers tracing the curve of her cheek before gripping her jaw. “You don’t understand the world I live in, Y/N. Marriage is not about love for men like me. It’s about power. Stability.”

His eyes darkened, his presence shifting into something volatile. “Don’t push me right now."

“You say you love me but I have nothing to prove it.”

His hand gripped her wrist, pulling her to him with a force that stole her breath. “You’re being reckless,” he warned, his voice low, dangerous.

“Your daughter is nothing special. ” The words were out before she could stop them and the air between them became charged with an intensity so palpable, it nearly suffocated her.

“ She’s just a thing you’ll use to keep your family’s power intact. She means nothing to you. You’re just playing a part!"

Jeon didn’t respond for a long time his face unreadable. But his eyes his eyes were dark, Y/N realized she had crossed a line. She had taunted him with his daughter, the one person he cared for beyond himself. The one person he would never let anyone insult.

He had always tolerated her insults about his wife, about his position. But when it came to his daughter, there were no boundaries left.

Something snapped. She pushed him too far. He could be so gentle and yet when she fought him he became an entirely different man. Cold. Detached. Ruthless.

In a single moment of heated frustration, Jeon moved before he could stop himself. "You never talk about her like that again” Jeon growled, his voice like ice and his voice dark with a warning.

His hands gripped her arms, the force of his anger and helplessness making him reckless.

She gasped in pain trying to pry herself free, but his strength was unyielding. "Jeon! let go"

“I told you,” he hissed, his voice dangerously low, “Never. Again.”

The anger burned hot in his veins, clouding his rationality. His hand released her with force and in the momentum she stumbled backward head colliding with the glass wall.

It wasn’t his intention never his intention but her foot caught on the edge of the rug and she stumbled backward. A sickening crack echoed as her head collided with the glass wall.

A sharp gasp left her lips before darkness swallowed her whole.

The rage in Jeon's eyes vanished, replaced instantly with horror. "Y/N!" His voice was raw, panicked as he dropped to his knees beside her, hands hovering over her pale face. "Shit. Baby, look at me."

But her eyes fluttered shut, darkness swallowing her whole.

---

The sterile scent of the hospital clung to the air when she awoke. A dull throb pulsed at her temple but it was nothing compared to the weight pressing on her heart.

“Jeon…” she whispered, her voice fragile.

A deep sigh came from the chair beside her. It wasn’t him.

Instead, his most trusted man sat there, watching her with mild concern. “He had to go,” the man said quietly. “A family event. An important meeting. He couldn’t stay.”

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat. Of course. Of course, he had to go. Of course, he had somewhere else to be.

The ride back to the penthouse was silent, but the ache inside her screamed. She curled into herself on the bed, staring at the empty space beside her. Hours passed before the door finally opened, and Jeon stepped inside, his presence heavy with regret.

He didn’t speak. He stood at the foot of the bed, watching her with dark, conflicted eyes. He had never felt so powerless. Yet he was torn, his desire to stay with her clashing with the obligations he had to his family.

Y/N scoffed bitterly, turning away. “Go back to your perfect little family.”

His jaw tensed. “Don’t."

She let out a cold laugh. “Don’t what? Act like I finally understand my place? You made it painfully clear where I stand.”

Jeon moved, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. His fingers curled around her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You don’t get to act like you mean nothing to me.”

She jerked away. “Then stop treating me like I do.”

His breath was unsteady, his control fraying at the edges. “I should’ve been here.”

Y/N’s voice was cold, detached. “But you weren’t.”

Silence.

The bed dipped as he knelt beside her, his fingers brushing her hair back. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

Tears burned her eyes. “But you did.”

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away the wetness. “I regret it more than you know.”

He stayed that night and she let him hold her, their silence speaking of all the words they didn’t dare say. His warmth against her, his lips pressing against the crown of her head, his fingers threading through hers in a desperate grasp he was telling her everything he couldn’t say aloud.

"I'll make it right. " She turned to face him then, her eyes searching his for truth. And when she found it when she saw the torment in his gaze, she cupped his face and whispered, “Then don’t leave me again.”

That night, he didn’t.

__

Secrecy had a price. And Y/N, abandoned by all but him clung to the only thing she had left.

Yet, deep in her heart, she knew the truth.

Jeon was a great father. He loved his child more than anything more than her. And if the day ever came when he had to choose, she knew he wouldn’t choose her.

And that terrified her more than anything.

__

The air in the penthouse was thick with tension, the silence between them suffocating. It had been days since their last argument, the one where Jeon’s rage had reached a breaking point, his patience shattered. The weight of that moment had hung over them like a storm cloud, its aftermath far from resolved. Yet, somehow, the silence between them was worse than the fury that had come before.

Y/N sat on the sofa, her fingers curling into the fabric, her nails digging into the soft cushions as she stared at the man she loved with a mixture of longing and resentment. The truth of their relationship had never been clearer. She was nothing more than a fleeting shadow in his life, a temporary distraction in a world he could never fully share with her.

Another argument. Another round of empty words exchanged.

“I’m tired, Jeon,” she began, her voice soft but trembling with desperation. “I can’t keep living like this. In your fucking shadows always second to everything else in your life. I’m the woman you fuck when you need something, and then you go back to your perfect little family like I never existed.”

Jeon’s face remained unreadable, his cold eyes never leaving her as he sat on the sofa, his posture rigid. He had been patient far more patient than she deserved but tonight, the pressure of her constant demands seemed to wear him down.

“Y/N, I’ve told you this before,” he said, his tone measured but firm. “I can’t marry you. You know why.”

“Then choose,” she shot back, her voice cracking with emotion. “Choose between me and them. Between me and your daughter. Between me and your fucking family.”

Jeon’s breath caught in his throat and for a moment, he almost looked like he was going to say something something that might change everything. But the words never came. Instead, his expression hardened and the wall between them, the invisible barrier he had built for so long, seemed to solidify in that instant.

“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “You think this is some game, Y/N. You think you can just demand things and expect me to give them to you. But my daughter she’s my responsibility. "

She had known it, deep down, but hearing it from him the man she loved cut deeper than any physical wound ever could. She felt the crushing weight of his words settling into her chest, suffocating her.

She was never more than a convenience, a fleeting moment of warmth in the cold, calculated world he lived in.

The tears burned in her eyes as she stepped forward, her hands trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “You’d choose them. You’d choose her over me your daughter, your legacy because that’s all that matters to you, isn’t it? Not me. Never me.”

Jeon’s face remained stony, his eyes flickering with something perhaps regret, perhaps guilt but it wasn’t enough. Not enough to change anything.

“I’ve told you everything I can, Y/N. I’m sorry,” Jeon said, his voice tight as he stood from the sofa.

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. It was as though she had been waiting for this moment for so long, but hearing it aloud hearing it from him was worse than anything she had ever imagined.

She stared at him, her body trembling with emotion as the crushing reality sank in. She was nothing to him. Nothing more than a passing moment in a life he could never share with her. The man she loved who she had thought could one day choose her was now standing in front of her, his eyes cold, his heart locked away from her forever.

Y/N had always known she was never the first choice in anyone’s life, but now, she was finally forced to face it. She was nothing more than a fleeting distraction for him.

Jeon turned to leave, his shoulders stiff with the weight of what he had just said, the weight of the decision he had made. And as he walked toward the door, Y/N couldn’t breathe. The air was thick, suffocating, and she felt as though the world was collapsing in on her. She had lost him lost him like everyone else who had ever claimed to love her. Her family had abandoned her, her friends had left her and now, Jeon the one person who had ever truly mattered was slipping away from her, too.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, her voice breaking, the tears streaming down her face. “Please. Don’t leave me, too.”

But Jeon didn’t stop. He didn’t turn back. He walked out of the door, leaving her there, alone, broken.

__

She was the problem. She had always been the problem. She had always been second, never good enough, never worthy of being loved in return. And now, Jeon was leaving her, just like everyone else had. He had made his choice, and she had lost. The thought of losing him of being abandoned by the only person who had ever made her feel seen was too much to bear.

The thought of being alone in this world truly alone was unbearable. The emptiness, the ache, the endless void that seemed to swallow her whole, had become her reality. She couldn’t live like this. She couldn’t live knowing that, yet again, she was nothing more than a fleeting moment in someone else’s life . And Jeon... Jeon had loved her, once, but that love was gone now. Gone like everything else that had ever mattered.

__

Y/N made a decision. A final, irreversible decision.

She drove. She didn’t know where, didn’t know how but she found herself at the edge of the cliff that overlooked the endless expanse of the ocean. The wind whipped around her, the cold biting against her skin, but she felt nothing. She felt empty, hollow, like a shell of the person she once was. The heights had always terrified her, but now, the fear was gone. What was left to fear when there was nothing left to live for?

She stepped toward the edge, the wind howling in her ears, the sea crashing below. The world seemed to hold its breath, as though waiting for her to make the final leap into the abyss below. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the tears to fall, allowing the final weight of everything to settle in her heart.

The world spun, the air rushed past her, and for a moment, she felt a strange sense of release , a final escape from the endless pain that had consumed her for so long.

Maybe in another universe, I could have had it all.

In another life, there might have been a version of her who had been first in someone’s heart. A version of her who didn’t have to fight for attention In another universe, she might have had Jeon, the real version of him, the one who never had to choose between her and his family, who could love her without the weight of responsibility.

And that thought maybe in another universe lingered as the darkness closed in around her.

But this was the only universe she knew. The only reality that mattered now. And as the distance between the cliff and the crashing waves below grew shorter, that hope that thought of a different life, faded into the dark like everything else that had ever mattered.

Flashbacks, rapid and unforgiving, washed over her like a flood. Seven minutes, that’s all it took for her life to flash before her eyes, but each second felt like a lifetime.

Perhaps she would never know but maybe somewhere in another life she had everything she ever wanted .

_____________________________________________

Part 2 here: https://www.tumblr.com/jjkssin/776373724224077824/midnight-whispers-part-ii?source=share

[ovrgrwnivy]

THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK

SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.

WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!oc, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE ; changes are being made! see this post to learn more. to me, this part seems a little like a filler, but i want to explore veronica as a character and develop each relationship with each character as something more than a side character, not just honing in on her relationship with jj, which of course is a huge part of the story also.

part one. part two. part three.

when veronica begins to stir, the sun had long set. there was no way of knowing how long the pair had been asleep, all she knew was the lights of the chateau were off and there was a bright pink post it note stuck to jj’s head.

‘gone fishin’. jb pissed.’

pope signed off on the note, a small smiley face drawn inside the o of his name. veronica knew the pouges hadn’t actually gone fishing, that is was some sort of code jj would decipher when he came to.

in this moment, veronica was content. wrapped in the arms of the most beautiful person she’d ever seen.

what could only be described as a war was ongoing in her head. she wasn’t exactly one to believe in love at first sight, she thought this entire ‘spark’ thing was something made up by male authors to keep women reading their shitty romance books to keep them hooked, waiting for it to happen to them.

but then she met jj, and he was like a magnet. every time veronica was in his presence she was mesmerised, whenever he was gone she felt like all the colour was drained from the world.

there was only two problems.

there was a maximum of forty eight hours that they knew each other, add to that he was her brothers best friend, then add to that said brother made it crystal clear that inter-group dating was not allowed.

oh, and then the whole ‘nobody knows i’m his sister but us’ thing.

“you’re staring, baby” jj mumbled, his voice low and tired as he stirred beneath her “can’t say i blame you”

with a sarcastic scoff, veronica sits upright in the hammock, her legs laid out across the blonds lap “just admiring the drool on your face”

“aren’t you funny.”

comfortable silence follows, jj crosses his arms behind his head and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. even though she was staring off into the water, veronica could feel jj’s eyes on her.

“can i help you?” veronica quipped, a teasing lilt to her words as she face the boy in question “use your words, you’ll get there.”

unexpectedly, jj sighs and lets his head fall back “what am i doing?”

veronica knows he didn’t intent for her to hear him, but she did. she would be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed, but she was even more disappointed in herself at the pang of sadness that hit her.

before she can say, or do, anything, jj is sat up a little straighter and speaking again.

“listen, you’re a really cool girl,” he pauses, shaking his head and starting again “you’re hot as shit, damn it!”

barely, veronica manages to mask her giggle with a cough.

“don’t ask me how or why, but i gotta tell you i’m super into you.” he blurts out “yeah, makes no fuckin’ sense, we barely know each other, no pouge on pouge macking, you ain’t feeling me like that-“

her body is moving before her brain can even comprehend what she’s doing, chipped nail polish framing blond hair as she held his face in her hands and pressed their lips together.

then, her brain kicks in, and veronica jumps back like she’d just been burnt.

“fuck, jay i’m so sorry. i wasn’t thinking,”

seconds pass agonisingly slow and veronica can’t help but think about just how badly she had just fucked up.

but she doesn’t get to overthink for long.

a calloused hand tangled in long, brown hair. the other gripping her waist like it was a lifeline, helping her into his lap as his tongue makes its way into her mouth.

the kiss is messy, it’s desperate. like two people drowning, taking in the other like they were air. hands cling to whatever they can, afraid if they let go it would all be over.

any reservations veronica may have had about ‘the spark’ were discarded, undermined even, this wasn’t a spark, it was fireworks.

but fireworks don’t last forever, and when the sound of john b’s rickety van can be heard drawing closer. the newfound excitement being dulled by the shadow known as a protective older brother, a protective best friend.

by the time the missing pouges pour out of the twinkie, veronica and jj are in much less compromising positions, now sitting beside each other trading menial conversation about the earlier events of the day.

“welcome back to the land of the living,” kiara teases, a yellow vape coming up to her mouth as she took a hit “you two were out cold.”

instinctively, veronica’s hand shot out, wordlessly pleading for a hit of her vape. with a groan, kie handed it over.

veronica lets her head fall back against the hard oak of the tree behind her, relishing the feeling of her first hit of nicotine in two days. she had a vape when she left home, but it died before she even made it to the outer banks and being broke meant she couldn’t even go buy a replacement.

“you could’ve woke us up, y’know” jj defended, trying his hardest to act as if nothing happened, reminding himself to stop staring.

pope scoffs, not missing the longing stares sent the brunettes direction but purposefully ignoring them “we tried, it nearly cost us our lives.”

unamused, john b walks past the rest of the group in silence. when he gets to the door of the chateau he looks over his shoulder and nods for veronica to follow.

the girl is suddenly more attentive, climbing over the human embodiment of a golden retriever and padding her way into the house behind the older of the two.

“does the name redfield mean anything to you?” john b questions, passing a beer from the fridge and getting one for himself “like, the surname.”

veronica is quiet, her finger tracing the rim of the can as she goes through every crevice of her brain in search of any name even remotely close, there’s only one.

“chris redfield.” she answers with a nod, popping the tab of the can and taking a swig “but i don’t get how he’s involved.”

“why not? who is he!?”

“a video game character.”

with a huff of annoyance john b drags a chair across the kitchen to sit beside veronica, unscrewing his compass and placing it down on the table. the name ‘redfield’ is carved into the metal.

“we went back to the boat, found a motel key, whatever.” john b shrugs off the rest of their findings, more invested in whoever this redfield person was. “then i remembered when you showed me that note, the one in the compass. then i found this, figured you would know more than i do.”

veronica gently traced the carved metal, it was definitely their fathers scrawl, she’d memorised it from the note she read over and over and over.

it couldn’t be a coincidence, her fathers note asking her to meet, the matching compasses. now this?

“if i’m going to help you, i need to know..” she trailed off, biting at the edges of her nails as she wondered how to phrase her next question “does this have anything to do with dad dying?”

“he’s not dead.” john b’s voice is louder, stern. then his face softens and he tears his gaze away from the compass and to the floor “sorry, just, i know he’s out there. and this? this is proof.”

“john b, i get it.” the younger routledge speaks slowly, trying not to tread on any toes “you’re not the only one who wants him to be alive, that needs to see him. but i don’t see how this—”

“dad found the royal merchant. four hundred million dollars in gold, and he found it. he’s trying to tell us where to find it.”

veronica sighs, fingers rubbing at her tired eyes as she once again tried to think of any connection to any redfield. when it came to family, she only knew the bare minimum, her fathers name and her mothers maiden name.

what she did know, however, was the royal merchant. as a child her father sent her maps and books on birthdays and christmases without fail, until one day they stopped.

“you’ve got books and stuff, right?” she finally asked, not wanting to get either her or john b’s hopes up. a nagging feeling was telling her their dad was alive, but she knew he wouldn’t just up and abandon his son.

the walls of her fathers study feel like they’re closing in on her, john b let her inside and left her to it. veronicas hand ghosts over the framed maps and dusty books. blueprints of ships with her fathers messy scrawl written randomly around the paper.

there’s pictures of john b littered all over the office, all different life stages, a few feature jj and veronica can’t help but smile at the photo of two little boys holding a fish between them.

on the desk there’s a picture frame, immediately veronica recognises her mother, years younger and a gentle hand placed on her tummy. in the same frame, there’s an ultrasound that veronica almost bypassed as john b, but when she looked at the date it was a long time after he was born.

it was her ultrasound.

it was her in her moms tummy, framed and proudly placed right on her fathers desk.

everything comes back at once. finding the note, and in turn the years worth of letters her mother had hidden from her. the dateline special with john b pleading for information about his father, their father. the fight with her mother, packing a bag in the middle of the night and making her way to the address stored safely inside her compass.

the tears don’t register until they hit the glass of the frame, the last few weeks of pent up anger, sadness and hurt bubbling over from the flame that single photo sparked.

her dad loved her.

for years she’d heard about her absent father, then the absent father that passed when she was a baby. the father who didn’t want the responsibility of a child and ran away once he found out.

but the letters, the compass, this picture? john routledge loved the daughter he was forbidden from seeing, from the second he knew about her he loved her.

and now he was dead.

a sudden wave of anger rushes from her head to her toes, glass shattering when she throws the dusty old frame against the wall with a scream. papers fly and maps fall from the walls as she turns her fathers office into her own personal rage room.

the racket coming from the small room shakes the chateau, so it’s no surprise when the pouges come crashing through the door.

the pouges eyes briefly flash with fear when their eyes land on the destruction caused by the newest arrival, but it’s quickly replaced by a familiar sadness when veronica crumples to the ground, screaming as loud as her lungs would allow for them to get out.

they don’t know what’s wrong, but it doesn’t matter. veronica was now considered a friend, and they gathered that’s what she needed right about now.

jj is the first to enter, drawing closer slowly as if he were being cautious “it’s okay, ronnie.” he mutters softly, dodging shattered glass as he knelt beside her “we’re here, we got you.”

kiara, john b and pope are close behind, wrapping veronica in what could only be described as a group hug until her tears subsided.

taglist!

@ren-ni @marleymarleymarleymarley @miidollaasignnn @rainingcecilias @tanyaherondale @xspideyhollandx @sluterainterlude @loverofmarsss @xoxo-ada @gigistalked @genderlessmenance

[galactic-magick]

Some Severance Characters x Reader Headcanons

(Mostly platonic, a few romantic in italics)

I noticed there is literally zero Severance fandom self-insert content so I decided to do my duty and fix that. Call me cringe idc, I just want to imagine myself hanging out with these characters I’ve fallen in love with!

Helly R

You and Helly together would certainly be a force to be reckoned with

You help each other come up with escape plans, all of which unfortunately fail or Mark shuts down before you even try them

Despite the failures and hopelessness, though, she’d find a lot of joy hanging out with you

She would try to sneak into the elevator at the same time as you after work so your outies could meet

If your relationship becomes romantic, she would love kissing you at the most inappropriate times. Mostly because she just likes kissing you, but also because she knows someone is always watching and wants to piss off management lol

Mark S

Mark didn’t think he could ever have another best friend after Petey, but you prove him wrong

You make him laugh and smile, even on the days he comes in looking sad and hungover

He can never remember why, of course, but you’re there for him either way. You both just have to make peace with the fact his outie is going through some shit you’ll never know about

He’d be very sweet with you as he’s training you, he knows how weird being a new hire can be so he’s very gentle with you and Helly when you start

I think he’d be a slow burn office romance kinda guy, so if you do end up advancing your relationship, he will definitely not be the one making the first move. If you like him you’re just going to straight up tell him lol he will not get it otherwise

Dylan

Your relationship with Dylan is mainly competition and messing with each other

You’ll steal his finger traps when he’s not looking and sabotage/distract him from work so you win more prizes than him

Your teasing of each other is both extremely annoying and endearing for your other coworkers

You like to hang out and chat with him by the vending machines, getting excited whenever a new snack is added

Irving

Irving would be surprised that a fifth person is joining MDR, but he soon finds the more the merrier

He likes that with an additional person the work gets done faster and the quarterly quotas are less stressful

If you’ll indulge him, he likes taking you on walks and field trips and yapping about Eagan history

Sometimes you help him out by standing watch while he takes a nap in the supply closet lol. Let this man take a snooze fr

Harmony

A friendship or relationship with Harmony would probably go similarly to how she treated Mark, let’s be real

She’d be a little obsessed with you in her own weird way, and she’d pursue your outie as well if possible

If you manage to get past her cold exterior, I honestly think she could be very caring to someone she actually cares about. As long as you don’t get in the way of her and Kier lol

Mr. Milchick AKA Milkshake

This guys can be very scary and unsettling, but if you don’t mind that? He would be so fucking fun to hang out with

I think he can sing as well as he dances. You catch him humming and singing little tunes sometimes

Since he’s not severed, he’d sometimes accidentally slip things about your outie, since he knows both versions of you

He would resist any affection towards you, but inevitably a flirty comment would come out and you’d just stare at him in shock

Natalie

As the spokesperson for the Lumon Board, Natalie really isn’t supposed to have relationships with coworkers, especially not severed ones

But whenever she’s 99% sure they’re not listening, she likes to spend time chatting with you

You’re fascinating to her, and if you get close enough she might even start seeing you as a real person

Ms Casey

You’re her favorite client by far, and seeing you on her schedule always brings a smile to her face

You’d fake not feeling well a LOT just so you can have more wellness sessions with her

On the rare occasion she gets to leave the wellness office, she loves hanging out with you in MDR

If anything she reads about your outie involves love, she gets a bit jealous, knowing she’ll probably never get to experience it with either version of you

[rafesorchid]

STRAWBERRIES ON THE SIDEWALK

how ditzy!reader and rafe met <3

plot: a bubbly, accident-prone girl catches the attention of Rafe, who quietly falls for her while she remains unaware. Through awkward moments and growing affection, they begin to navigate the start of something special.

CONTENT: Anxiety, mild swearing, slow-burn romance, accidental chaos, awkwardness, fluff.

have fun! <3

it all started because you dropped your ice cream.

not once.

not twice.

three times.

first time, the cone just slipped right out of your hand, like your fingers forgot how to work. you bent down to grab it, but your purse swung over your shoulder and smacked you in the face, so you stumbled back a few steps, flailing like a baby deer. the second you straightened up again — splat. your backup scoop, somehow, had also slid out of the little paper cup.

you just stood there blinking at it. two sad little puddles of pink and vanilla melting on the sidewalk.

“aw, man,” you mumbled to yourself, poking your lip out in a pout, twisting the hem of your dress in your fingers. “i really wanted that.”

rafe saw the whole thing from across the street.

he wasn’t supposed to be here — he’d gotten roped into running errands for rose, something about picking up dry cleaning — but the second his eyes landed on you, all clumsy and messy and heartbreakingly pretty under the sun, he stopped dead in his tracks.

he didn’t even think. he just crossed the street, barely looking for traffic, like something in his chest pulled him toward you.

and right as he got close enough to hear the little frustrated huff you made, you dropped your phone, too.

“shit,” you whined softly, crouching down to grab it. you missed it the first try. and the second.

third time’s the charm. you finally scooped it up, holding it like it might grow legs and run away again.

rafe watched, completely fucking entranced.

“you uh… you need some help, sweet girl?” he said finally, voice all low and easy, a little amused but mostly fond.

you jumped like you hadn’t even noticed him coming up, clutching your phone to your chest like it was a teddy bear.

you blinked up at him, wide-eyed. and oh, fuck, rafe thought. you were… jesus christ, you were beautiful. a little scuffed up, hair all mussed, shoes slightly askew, looking at him like you couldn’t tell if he was real.

“oh,” you said, breathless. “um. no, i’m good.” you paused. “wait. no. i mean, yes. i do need help. i dropped my ice cream.”

you looked so serious about it that rafe almost laughed. almost. but something about the way you were frowning down at the sidewalk, like the universe had personally wronged you, made his chest ache.

“i see that,” he said, nodding solemnly, like you were discussing something real important. “that’s a tragedy, honestly.”

your face lit up — so quick, so bright — like you were thrilled he understood the gravity of the situation.

“right??” you said, throwing your hands up. “i was so excited, too. it was supposed to be, like, my treat for getting through my shift without crying.”

rafe’s heart twisted.

he didn’t even know you. didn’t even know your name.

but he wanted to kiss you stupid right there on the sidewalk.

“what kinda ice cream was it?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out and brushing the hair out of your eyes.

“strawberry and vanilla swirl,” you said immediately. then you made a face, nose scrunching up a little. “was.” you sighed. “now it’s just soup.”

he smiled, slow and lazy.

you were killing him. absolutely wrecking him without even trying.

“c’mon,” he said, jerking his chin toward the little ice cream truck still parked down the block. “let’s get you a new one.”

you blinked again.

“…you don’t even know me,” you said after a second, voice all soft and confused, like it was genuinely blowing your mind that a stranger might be nice to you.

“not yet,” rafe said easily. “but i’m fixin’ that.”

you stared at him. he stared right back, letting you look, letting you see that he wasn’t kidding, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

after a moment, your face broke into a bashful little smile, and you nodded.

“okay,” you said. “but only if they still have sprinkles. i really wanted sprinkles.”

rafe laughed, warm and rough.

“baby,” he said, slinging an arm around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world, “i’ll buy you the whole damn truck if they’re outta sprinkles.”

you just giggled, letting him steer you toward the curb, trusting him like you’d known him forever.

you didn’t even notice the way his hand tightened on your arm, protective, possessive, like he already knew he was never letting you go.

and rafe didn’t mind one bit that you didn’t notice.

he had time.

he had all the time in the world for you.

the ice cream truck was still there, thank god.

rafe kept his hand draped over your shoulders the whole walk over, steering you without even thinking about it, like he was afraid you’d trip over a crack in the sidewalk or wander into traffic if he let go.

which, honestly, wasn’t the craziest idea, considering the way you kept getting distracted.

you gasped halfway there, tugging on rafe’s sleeve.

“look! a puppy!” you said, pointing at a golden retriever snoozing under a bench.

rafe followed your finger.

“yeah, i see him,” he said, smiling down at you.

you were looking at the dog like it was a literal angel sent from heaven.

“he’s so cute,” you whispered, like it was a secret.

you stopped walking entirely to wave at it.

the dog didn’t even open its eyes.

you still waved like it might.

rafe watched you, absolutely floored.

how the fuck were you real?

he’d never seen anything like you.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, nudging you forward gently. “ice cream’s waitin’.”

you tore your gaze away from the dog with some visible effort, your bottom lip sticking out in a little pout.

but the second you looked back at him — all big bright eyes and messy hair and sunshine — rafe forgot what the hell he was even doing.

all he could think was mine mine mine mine mine.

you finally made it to the truck.

rafe kept you tucked against him while you looked at the menu like it was the hardest math test you’d ever seen.

“wait,” you said, brow furrowing. “should i get sprinkles or gummy bears?”

“both,” rafe said immediately.

you lit up.

“i can do that?” you asked, genuinely shocked.

“you can do whatever you want, baby,” rafe said, deadly serious. “anything you want.”

you smiled so wide rafe thought he might actually drop dead on the spot.

he ordered for you without even asking, like he could already guess what you’d want — strawberry-vanilla swirl, sprinkles and gummy bears, and a second cone just in case.

you beamed up at him like he hung the damn moon.

he had to look away for a second, just to keep it together.

you sat on the curb together, your knees bumping against his while you licked your ice cream, humming happily to yourself.

rafe didn’t even bother with his own.

he was too busy watching you.

you kept dropping gummy bears onto your lap and scrambling to pick them up before they melted.

at one point, you tried to balance your cone in the crook of your elbow while you used both hands to scoop a whole pile of sprinkles off your jeans.

it did not go well.

“shit,” you muttered, frantically catching the cone right before it fell. “i’m so bad at this.”

rafe chuckled low in his throat.

“you’re perfect,” he said without thinking.

you froze for half a second, blinking at him.

then you just smiled, all sweet and unbothered, like you thought he was just being nice.

“thanks!” you said brightly, like he hadn’t just fucking confessed his soul to you.

then you went right back to eating your ice cream, kicking your feet idly in the air.

rafe scrubbed a hand over his face.

he was so screwed.

“what’s your name, sweet girl?” he asked after a minute, voice a little rough.

you looked up at him again, nose scrunching a little like you had to think about it, which nearly made him laugh again.

finally, you told him — soft and shy and sing-song, like it was a secret just for him.

rafe repeated it under his breath, tasting it, filing it away in the safest part of his mind.

“pretty,” he said, grinning when you blushed.

“yours is pretty too,” you said without missing a beat. “like… like a soap opera guy or something.”

rafe barked out a laugh.

“you think i sound like a soap opera?”

you nodded seriously, licking a drip off your wrist.

“yeah. like, rafe cameron… heart surgeon,” you said dramatically, flinging your hand out.

you almost smacked him in the face.

he caught your wrist easily, holding it between his fingers like it was the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

he didn’t let go right away.

“nah, baby,” he said, voice low and sweet. “ain’t no doctor. but i’d fix up that pretty little heart of yours anytime you want.”

you just tilted your head at him, chewing thoughtfully on your straw.

“i think my heart’s okay,” you said finally.

you sounded genuinely puzzled.

rafe laughed again, scrubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

“it is,” he agreed. for now, he didn’t say. til you give it to me.

you went quiet for a second, then gasped so loud he jumped.

“wait!” you said, bouncing a little on the curb. “i forgot to ask — what’s your favorite ice cream?”

rafe blinked.

you were worried about him?

he didn’t know whether to kiss you or put you in his pocket and carry you around like a lucky charm.

“whatever you’re havin’,” he said honestly.

your mouth dropped open.

“no way,” you said, scandalized. “you can’t copy me! that’s, like, illegal!”

he leaned closer, until you could feel his breath on your cheek.

“guess you’ll have to arrest me, then,” he murmured.

your cheeks went pink again, and you ducked your head, pretending to focus very hard on your ice cream cone.

rafe just grinned, absolutely fucking smitten.

he had no idea how he got so lucky, but he knew one thing for damn sure — he wasn’t letting you slip away.

not now.

not ever.

the sun was starting to sink lower behind the rooftops, throwing everything in gold and pink.

you had ice cream all over your fingers, little smudges of strawberry on your mouth, and you still hadn’t noticed the way rafe was staring at you like you were the only thing in the whole damn world.

he was sitting close enough that his knee bumped yours every time you shifted.

you didn’t seem to notice.

you just kept swinging your legs and babbling about the dumbest, cutest shit he’d ever heard.

“—and one time i tried to bake a cake but i forgot to put flour in it,” you were saying, eyebrows scrunched. “it was just, like, soup. cake soup.”

rafe laughed, low and real.

he couldn’t help it.

you were too much.

too sweet. too soft. too good.

“you’re dangerous, aren’t you, baby?” he teased, nudging your knee with his.

you looked scandalized.

“no!” you said quickly. “i’m a really good driver. and i only set the fire alarm off, like, twice!”

he laughed harder this time, full-bodied, tilting his head back.

you just smiled at him like you didn’t even realize you were funny.

rafe swiped a thumb over your mouth, wiping away a little drip of melted ice cream before it could run down your chin.

you froze.

“gotcha,” he murmured, his thumb dragging slow across your bottom lip.

he didn’t even mean to — he just couldn’t not touch you.

you blinked up at him, all wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, like you didn’t know what to do.

like no one had ever touched you so gently before.

“th-thanks,” you stuttered.

then you immediately dropped your cone again.

it landed right in your lap.

sprinkles everywhere.

you let out a tiny, devastated whimper.

rafe didn’t even think.

he grabbed a handful of napkins from his pocket and crouched in front of you, swiping carefully at the mess.

“easy, sweet girl,” he murmured, brushing sprinkles off your dress. “s’okay. we’ll get you a new one.”

“but i dropped two,” you mumbled miserably.

“then we’ll get three next time,” rafe said easily.

you sniffled, and for a horrifying second, rafe thought you might actually cry over it.

he reached for you on instinct, tilting your chin up so you had to look at him.

“hey,” he said, soft and low. “don’t be sad, alright? i got you. ‘m not goin’ anywhere.”

you stared at him, all shiny-eyed and trusting.

it made something break wide open inside his chest.

he needed your number.

he needed everything.

“you got a phone, baby?” he asked, brushing your hair back behind your ear.

you nodded, still a little dazed.

“yeah, but it’s kinda stupid,” you said solemnly. “it always dies at, like, thirty percent. like, just… boom. dead.”

rafe smiled, thumbing at your cheek.

“then lemme put my number in it real quick,” he said. “just in case you need someone to come rescue you from evil ice cream cones or… exploding phones or whatever else you get yourself into.”

you giggled, handing it over without a second thought.

rafe took it, entering his number so fast his hands shook a little.

he added a little heart after his name without even meaning to.

then he took a picture of himself and set it as his contact photo — just in case.

when he handed it back, you were looking at him all starry-eyed.

like he’d just handed you the damn moon.

“thanks, rafe,” you said, soft and sweet.

“anytime, baby,” he said.

and he meant it.

he watched you carefully tuck your phone back into your bag — then immediately watched you miss the bag entirely and just drop it on the ground.

you both stared at it for a second.

“i’m so dumb,” you said, laughing helplessly, clapping a hand over your mouth.

rafe’s heart squeezed so hard he thought it might actually stop.

he bent down, picking up your bag, and slipped the strap gently over your shoulder for you.

“nah,” he murmured, letting his fingers trail down your arm. “you’re perfect.”

you went still again, staring up at him with those huge pretty eyes.

and this time, for a split second, rafe thought maybe you did feel it too — the heat, the pull, the way the whole world had narrowed down to just you and him.

but then you smiled, all sunshine and cluelessness, and said,

“you’re really good at picking up purses. you should do that for a living.”

rafe laughed, low and breathless.

he was so, so fucked.

and he didn’t even care.

author's note

this one is like reeeaally long, but nonetheless, hope you had fun reading, my sweet beautiful people <3

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Can You Hear Me - A Babylon the Great Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: Our first bonus chapter!!! Think of them as mini-scenes off the "camera" of Babylon, between or nestled within the chapters. Not "required reading" to get the story, but still fun (for me. You guys are gonna loathe me for this one).

Chapter title from This is How I Disappear by My Chemical Romance

Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You sit on the roof of your car. Takes place a month after Chapter 15. Usual warnings.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst (so much. I'm so sorry)

Read on A03!

Dean would’ve loved this view. Starlight and water and infinite land, all from the roof of a car—which he would’ve thought made it better—and paired with a warm breeze. 

He really would’ve loved it. 

Would’ve.

If he was here to see it, Dean would have loved this view.

And if you were brave enough, you’d work out where they’d buried him, just to make sure it was somewhere he would have liked. 

But you’re not brave enough. Even just the thought of a cross in the dirt, knowing Dean’s body—not Dean himself, golden and amazing and made of maybe the only light you’ve ever been able to feel, really feel, in more than just your bones and blood—is buried too deep in the ground for you to touch him, makes you feel sick. Empty. Wrong.

He’s gone, and everything in the world is dull and wrong, but he really would’ve loved this view.

Almost as much as you loved him.

Love him.

You still love him.

He’s dead, but you’ll love him until you join him. 

“What do you think it’s like?” He’d asked you, a month before the end, and you’d just shrugged, not looking up from your book.

You should’ve looked up.

You should’ve looked at him while there was still a Dean to look at. A pretty face and boyish smile that’s never going to be focus on you again, green eyes that are probably nothing but dirt by now, short hair you’re never going to get to feel under your fingers.

But you’d kept looking at your fucking book.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Deano.”

He’d shrugged in your periphery, his foot bumping yours as he spoke. “Hell. What do you think hell is like?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think it’s like, a freakin’ resort, and those sons of bitches are selling it bad to scare off the tourists. Beaches and beer pong and all the fruity drinks you could ever want in your fucking life. They’ve probably got pina coladas,” Dean had hummed your name, and you’d known he’d been joking—trying to distract you, or himself, or do anything but feel the time, slipping away—but had only made you squeeze the book a little tighter. “You should come with me. We can make a thing out of it, like me and Sammy goin’ to Vegas.”

“You and Sam have never gone to Vegas. You say you’re going to, and then you don’t.”

“Well, he can come with us then.”

You’d sighed, biting on the inside of your cheek until it stung, and refused to keep talking about it. 

Dean had bumped your foot again. You should’ve dropped your book, crawled into his lap, and kissed him until he shut his big, pretty, stupid mouth about hell, and going to hell.

You didn’t. 

And he’d kept talking.

“C’mon, Princess. I showed you mine.”

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“Guess.”

“No.”

“Dean Winchester-“

“Oops.” He’d hummed. “Full name. If you’re gonna stab me, can you tell me now so I can start running?”

“Shut up.”

“Bossy.” He’d been grinning. You’d been able to hear it in his voice.

You’ll never be able to hear his voice again, either. It’s been haunting you, but it’s always haunted you, and you’d always thought deep down that you’d hear it again, that you’d find your way into Dean’s gravity again, but now-

“For me.” He’d said. “Just, entertain me, okay? Please?”

You’d been sitting on the floor of Bobby’s library, and Dean had been right next to you even though it was a big room, and you’d been able to feel the heat of his body.

You really hoped they’d buried him somewhere nice. Not too cold, but not hot, either. He’d always hated things being too much of one or the other.

Hated.

If he could feel things, Dean would’ve hated being buried somewhere too warm or cold.

He’d always been a dramatic little bitch like that.

You love him a little more than you think should be possible. More than the sun loves the moon, and the moon loves the tides and the tides love the water. More Romeo loved Juliet.

You’d stayed alive for Dean.

And that was a fucking bigger testament of your love than dying with him. 

And he’d said for me.

You hope that he somehow knows you would’ve done anything for him. That you’d tried to do anything for him. That if a single fucking crossroads demon would take the offer of your soul, you’d have gone in his place. That if the Sky told you it would bring Dean back, you’d do whatever it wanted you to. Be whatever you had to be.

So finally looking up from your book with a sigh, and entertaining Dean’s question, it was really nothing at all.

“I don’t know.” You’d muttered, running your thumb over your palm. “I mean, there’s Dante’s architecture. And every religion has its own idea of it. Maybe fire and brimstone, or just, you know, lonely wandering. A lot of cultures think Hell is being forgotten.”

He’d frown into the air. “Huh. Should I make Bobby get a tattoo of me on his forehead, so no one ever forgets about me?”

You’d giggled at that. You’d been exhausted and flustered and in pain, but it had been Dean, so you’d giggled.

“I think you can try.” You’d hummed. “But I also think you can get shot.”

“Smart. I’ll make Sammy do it instead.”

“And I wish you luck with that.”

“Thanks, Princess.”

“Don’t thank me yet, De. I’m not getting the face tattoo.”

And he’d laughed, and smiled at you, and for a moment—and a little longer, maybe forever—the world had been Silver and peaceful, and it had all only been Dean.

And you loved him. 

And he’s not forgotten—as long as you have breath in your body, he won’t be, tattoo or not—but he is in hell. If you’re lucky, it’s the resort he’d jokes about.

But if your dreams are even just a little right, it’s... not.

There was a man in the gas station, this evening. He’d smiled at you with white teeth and a crooked glow behind his eyes, and you almost thrown up. He’d called you pretty, and ask what a beautiful little thing like you was doing in a place like this, and you’d only barely been able to swallow your spitting, venomous sneer of the truth.

So you’d just said running. As far away as you could get, because the man you love is dead and nothing in the universe is okay.

You hadn’t said that last part.

But the man had left you alone anyway—flashing two knives at someone will do that—and you’d just keep running. Moving. Going, until you found somewhere to drop that Dean would somehow catch you, or until you found Dean.

There had to be a way to get to Hell in more than a nightmare. A way to bring him back that didn’t kill you in the process, or a way that did. 

And there has to be a place you can run where the Sky can’t see you.

You haven’t found it yet.

But you’ll keep going until you do.

“I know you’re watching.” You mutter, looking up to meet its millions of blinking eyes. 

There’s always one, just one, trained on you.

And right now, as the Silver casts further and further out of your body—until you’re the fury of the wind and the resolve of the dirt and the ache of the car beneath you, missing the man who made it—you know the sky is only looking at you.

Same as it always does, when you speak.

So you know it’s listening.

“I’m not going to stop. You can’t make me, and if you weren’t a fucking coward.” You spit that last word, letting your lips curl into a sneer. “You’d come down here and fucking face me. Help me, instead of just watching me like a pussy. Because I need him, more than I’ve ever needed you, and I’ll keep going until he’s home.”

Safe. 

At your side.

And the Sky remains silent, and the tears start to fall—they always do, around this time of night—and you don’t choke on them.

You’re not allowed to.

“I just need him to come home,” you whisper, and it’s not for the Sky to hear, but it still does. “I’ll- I’ll do anything, just bring him back. Please.”

Nothing.

And Dean stays de-

Gone. 

You can’t say that word. It makes you feel small and useless and rotten, and it’s so permanent, so you never say it.

Dean’s gone. And one day you’ll scream, and the Sky will respond.

One day you’ll snap, and destroy it, and maybe Dean will emerge from the ash.

But he’ll come home.

He’ll come back. 

And you’ll show him this view, and you’ll love him, and maybe—if you’re given a lucky you’ve never been offered before—the sky will finally look away.

End Note: i'm sorry. See y'all Thursday. ALSO: for the taglist, I used anyone who's signed up for the Babylon updates. If you want to be removed, just send me a dm. Thank you!

Thank you so so so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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@funkenniffler @laurakirsten0502 @deans-yn

[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 2.

viktorxfemale!reader mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 4K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: Reader is hit by a truck which is *university*. So, a lot of studying and a lot of frustrations. And the TA is being a pain in the ass, you know how it is. Some science talk, based on the remnants of my knowledge from uni.

author’s note: Guys, you have showered me with love, so I'm showering you with writing.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

Sue was so fucking right. It had only been one week of freedom, and then the workload came crashing down on you. Suddenly, every class had a welcome test attached to it, and you found yourself buried under a mountain of homework—chemical equations to solve and analyse, essays, books to read, lab practice, and lectures to attend. There wasn’t any snowball effect; it all hit at once, and by the time you and Sue returned on the first Monday of the second week, you were carrying enough work to fill two mules, and it would still have been too heavy even for them.

“Your mum is calling,” Sue’s voice pulled you out of a particularly boring passage about physical chemistry in one of your shared workbooks. You would usually put your phones on the cabinet for study time, but the vibration had startled Sue for the third time in ten minutes, so she decided to address it.

“Ugh, can you put her on speaker? I’ll deal with this quickly, and I don’t want to move,” you rolled your eyes, catching Sue’s judgmental glare. She’s your mum!

“Kochanie, finally! I’ve been trying and trying, how are you doing?” Your mum’s voice filled the room with her familiar heavy accent, though she insisted it was improving. Your dad didn’t speak a word of Polish, so Joanna had to switch to English entirely after you left.

“All good, Mum. Lots and lots and lots of studying,” you said, your voice so unamused you barely lifted your eyes from the book, though your gaze was unseeing. You had been staring at the same equation for about half an hour now.

“Have you been practising your affirmations?” Of course, you hadn’t. Silly idea.

“Yes, every day and every time someone pisses me off. How’s Dad?” You decided to deflect as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

“Dad went to Calais for a retreat, and I’m left alone for the entire week. He’s not allowed a mobile, you see,” Your mum rambled on a little longer, and you let her. You were happy to hear your parents were moving on after losing their only daughter. Even though Joanna insisted she could feel your presence in the house, in the clothes and trinkets you’d left behind, and could sense your moods through an invisible mother-daughter bond you shared. What a load of nonsense.

“Mamusia, I love you, but I have to go. I’m studying with Sue, and we’ve got a test in thirty minutes,” you added a round of loud pecks so she could hear the kisses through the phone speaker. She told you to wear red underwear and get Sue to kick you for good luck.

“Your mum sounds awesome,” Sue laughed under her breath. She tried to study but ended up listening to the entire conversation.

“Eh, she’s something. She’s pretty cool when she’s not suffocating you with love, you know?” You gave Sue a knowing smile, and she understood immediately. “Have you managed to learn anything? My brain is literally fuming.”

Sue groaned as she started packing up her notebooks to head toward the lab class. “Honestly, I don’t know. I think I’ll use my last resort—can I borrow some red knickers?” You snickered as Sue shot you a huge mocking grin.

“No, but I can kick you alright, sweet Sue,” you couldn’t help but laugh. You gathered all the papers scattered around you with both hands and shoved them into your bag. You glanced at yourself in the mirror before leaving your dorm room, and Jesus Christ, your youth had already fled. Dark circles under your eyes, a gaunt face, lips chapped—all of it painfully underlined by an ink stain on your t-shirt. Whatever, there was no time to do anything about it.

It was Viktor’s class again. You had slowly grown to dislike them, ever since he and Jayce began to switch every second day, after Jayce got a new girlfriend—beautiful Mel Medarda, a third-year theatre student whom Hale once called a close second contender to rule the planet one day. Second after you, of course.

All of Viktor’s initial friendly sass had dissolved into the mean kind, which he executed each time Heimerdinger’s students were supposed to already know something they didn’t—including you. Thankfully, most of the time, you knew. The times you didn’t, he relished it and squeezed the situation to the maximum, like a sad lemon.

“Alright, take a test from the tray on the teacher’s desk and take your usual seat. And as usual, you can have a calculator and periodic table on your workbench,” Viktor’s instructions boomed through the lab classroom as one by one, students dragged themselves through the door, each one looking more exhausted than the other. “Looking ravishing today, Y/N,” he sent a smirk your way as you passed by him without sparing him so much as a glance and a quiet ‘hi.’

“Bite me, Viktor,” you barked back at him. What the hell was he thinking?

“Gladly, but maybe after class.” Usually, the smug look on his face would get you to scoff; this time, you granted him a faint eye roll as you dragged your feet toward the workbench you shared with Sue. As Viktor strolled through the room, making sure no one had anything illegal on their tables, he snatched your phone from your desk just as you were putting it into your bag.

“No phones,” he slid it into his lab coat pocket with a wink. You whined, about to say something you’d regret, but were immediately cut off by “I said, after class,” coming from behind you as you watched his back, your eyes burning a hole in it.

You solved the test first; you were so angry. As soon as you put it back in the tray, a realisation washed over you, and what you realised was the mistake you’d made in one of the exercises. You wanted to retrieve it and fix it, but Viktor’s hand shooshed you away.

“Come on, Viktor, it was there for less than a second!”

“You put it away, it’s gone for grading. That’s the rule. Also—it’s a learning curve,” he smiled at you sweetly, and you wanted to choke him out.

“Learning curve of what? That you are being a dick?” The last part was barely a whisper, nevertheless, a whisper that was fuming with rage and could cut through steel.

“Patience. And decision-making, which is a process that you clearly haven’t mastered yet,” he said coldly, not even looking you in the eye. This time, you did scoff, and angry steps carried you back to your seat.

The class settled into a more familiar rhythm after the test, the shuffle of papers and the steady hum of Bunsen burners filling the air. Viktor moved around the room, overseeing his students’ chemistry lab exercises with the same detached air he always wore. You tried to focus, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the test—and Viktor's smug little smile as he watched your frustration unfold.

The task at hand was simple enough: a titration experiment to determine the concentration of an unknown solution. Viktor had given you all the instructions, but as you watched the beaker of sodium hydroxide mix with the diluted acid, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. Something about the instructions didn’t sit right with you.

You glanced over at Sue, who was carefully measuring out the chemicals. You leaned in, whispering so Viktor wouldn’t overhear.

“Sue, I think he messed up the ratios in the instructions. If we follow this, it’s gonna screw everything up. We’ll end up with a totally different result.”

Sue frowned, taking a closer look at the setup. “You sure?”

“I’m certain. The way he wrote it—if we add that much of the sodium hydroxide, the pH is going to overshoot too quickly. It'll neutralise the acid too fast, and we won’t get an accurate reading. If we’re supposed to get a neutralisation point, that change will mess with the whole titration curve.”

Sue was sceptical, but you were adamant. You felt it in your gut. "It’ll be off. Trust me."

Sue nodded reluctantly. "So, what do we do?"

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers tapping the edge of the desk as you thought. You pulled up a few formulas on Sue’s phone, glancing back at Viktor to make sure he wasn’t looking in your direction.

“If we use less sodium hydroxide, the neutralisation will occur more slowly, and we’ll get a more accurate pH reading. We’re supposed to use a much more diluted solution.”

Sue nodded, though she looked uneasy. “What the hell, let’s try it.”

You adjusted the solution as you suggested, making the necessary changes to the procedure. You proceeded with the experiment, and despite her hesitation, Sue followed your lead. The two of you worked in tandem, the smooth, natural chemistry of your lab partnership taking over. As you neared the end of the titration, it was clear you had achieved the neutralisation point correctly—without overshooting or leaving any room for error.

Meanwhile, the rest of the class was still fumbling through their measurements, the air thick with the sounds of Viktor’s quiet reprimands. You couldn’t help but glance at him every now and then, noting the small, almost imperceptible frown on his face as he inspected his students’ work.

When the clock pointed to fifteen minutes away from the class ending, Heimerdinger stepped into the lab, his eyes scanning the results with interest. He walked toward your workbench, eyes lighting up as he reviewed your calculations.

“Well, it seems we have at least one pair who didn’t follow the instructions blindly,” Heimerdinger said, his voice rich with approval. “Good work, you two. You’ve done the experiment correctly. Trusting your instincts—making adjustments based on the data rather than simply following authority—is key in science. After all, we’re here to discover, not just to repeat what’s been done.”

You allowed yourself a smile of satisfaction, while Sue breathed a little easier, glancing at you in admiration.

Viktor’s face, however, was unreadable. He stood at the back of the room, arms folded tightly across his chest, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes.

Heimerdinger didn’t seem to mind. “It’s a learning curve for all of us, even your teacher. Mistakes are inevitable. But sometimes when we challenge authority—question the procedures—that’s when we learn and grow. Science is born from curiosity and defiance. Respect is important, of course, but don’t be afraid to challenge when you feel something isn’t right.”

You raised an eyebrow at Viktor, who hadn’t said a word. His lips were pressed into a thin line, but his eyes were hard as steel. He wasn’t pleased by Heimerdinger’s praise of your independent thinking.

“That’s how science is made,” Heimerdinger continued, completely oblivious to the tension between his students and the teacher. “By asking ‘what if?’ and exploring the unknown.”

Viktor finally spoke, his voice cool and controlled. “That’s true,” he said, glancing at you. “But there's a fine line between innovation and recklessness. Don’t mistake one for the other.”

You met his gaze, your jaw tight. “I don’t think we did.”

Viktor’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t respond, turning on his heel and walking toward the front of the room. Sue nudged you gently, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, at least we didn’t screw up,” she whispered.

You smiled back, but your mind was still racing. You had challenged Viktor’s authority—hadn’t followed his instructions—and it had got you praise from the professor. This couldn’t be good. “Sue, I don’t think I’m getting my phone back,” you whined into your friend's shoulder, who giggled uncontrollably.

You waited for your group to disperse into the library or the cantina before the start of the next lecture, making sure Viktor wouldn’t be able to humiliate you in front of anyone. You took a deep breath and knocked weakly on the door of the assistant’s back office.

“Come in,” Viktor’s voice was as flat and unwelcoming as ever. You braced yourself as you turned the doorknob and stepped inside quietly. Viktor was sitting at one of the tiny desks you were cramped at with Jayce and didn’t even look up. You cleared your throat.

“Yes?” This time, he looked up. God, he looked angry. When he finally raised his eyes to meet yours, he only sighed. “I doubt I can do much for you, Y/N. Given that you know everything already.”

“That’s rich coming from a guy who broke into the lab to prove his point once. Yes, Jayce told me,” you smiled at him sweetly, referring to his second-year incident when he and Jayce breached the lab security at night and conducted an experiment they were forbidden to do by Heimerdinger himself. This got them secure spots for PhD and TA positions.

Seeing that there was absolutely nothing coming from his direction but a blank stare, you asked carefully, “Well… why did you fuck up?”

Viktor sighed again, stood up slowly, and walked toward you. “Some theatre girls got us drunk last night—Mel’s friends. And I messed up the notes. Chemistry is not my major, as you know.” A smirk started to paint his face as he observed your reaction to the mention of drinking with some girls.

Viktor decided to push you further, his smirk widening as he leaned against the desk. “It’s hard to focus when you’re surrounded by Mel’s friends, you know. A lot of distractions. I haven't quite shaken last night off me yet,” he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Your heart dropped at his words. You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, but something inside you shifted—you didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt. Viktor was deliberately drawing attention to some girls, and it stung more than you cared to acknowledge.

You scolded yourself internally. Stop it. Don’t let him get to you. But it was already too late. You could feel a pang of something—jealousy, maybe, or insecurity—but you refused to let it show.

Viktor, sensing your discomfort, didn’t let up. “By the way,” he said, his tone casual, “I took a closer look at your test. You know, given your answers, I understand how you worked out the correct proportions for the exercise. Same mistake you made on the test itself, right?”

Your stomach twisted, and your chest tightened. “So now you’re just going to relish in my defeat, aren’t you?” you shot back, your voice strained.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got far better things to relish in. Just making observations.”

You exhaled sharply, your anger bubbling over. “You know, because you were being such a dick, the thing I actually knew will probably lower my final grade now. Congratulations.”

Viktor’s smirk never faltered. “I wasn’t being a dick,” he said, voice smooth. “I was merely being a meticulous stiff bastard.” He leaned back, his tone laced with sarcasm. “You were quite vocal about that, if I recall. Something about me being a ‘pedantic pain in the ass’ when you were drunk.”

Your face flushed, your hand tightening into a fist at your side. That comment struck a nerve you hadn’t even realised was there. Your heart pounded. “Are you seriously so petty, Viktor, that you’re going to take revenge for some drunken slur by messing with my grade?” you snapped, your voice rising. You turned to leave, the weight of your frustration heavy on your chest.

But Viktor’s voice stopped you cold. “Wait,” he said, and for a moment, you thought he was going to apologise. Maybe even admit he’d gone too far.

You glanced over your shoulder, ready to hear some kind of redemption. But then Viktor’s tone shifted again. “You didn’t forget something, did you?”

You froze as he pulled your phone from his pocket and held it out to you, a mischievous gleam in his eye. The sight of your phone in his hand made your heart sink. You really are a bastard, you thought.

With strained composure, you took the phone from him. Your fingers brushed his, sending an unexpected jolt through you. Viktor’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary, and for the briefest second, you saw something flicker behind his usual cool façade. Something almost… uncertain.

Your stomach fluttered—No. Not now. Don’t let him do this to you.

You forced a tight smile, returning his gaze. “I can play this game too, Viktor,” you said, your voice low and controlled.

Viktor’s smirk faltered for a brief moment, and he leaned back against the desk, watching you with a hint of something deeper in his expression. His eyes softened, but he quickly masked it with another calculated look.

You turned to leave, your mind racing with frustration and another weird emotion you didn’t have the name for. Just before you reached the door, you felt a shift in the air. Viktor’s teasing had crossed a line, and somehow, the distance between you felt less like a joke and more like something real. Why does this matter so much to me?

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. Viktor hadn’t just teased you. He’d affected you, and you hated that. As you stepped out of the office, you could feel his gaze on your back, following you, studying your body. You scolded yourself internally for looking like a wreck and made your way to join Sue in the library.

Your friend regarded you with concern as you slid into the chair at the table, books already splayed out in front of her. “Did you get your phone back?”

“Yeah, it was a fight to the death,” you mumbled, sighing heavily as you opened a massive tome of genetics for the next lecture.

“And who died?” Sue asked, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Oh, definitely me this time.” You whined and dropped your head face-flat onto the table. “I don’t understand when this happened. Can you direct me to a point in time when Viktor woke up and chose violence?” you chuckled despite yourself.

“Um… I think it was some time after the party where that cute curly-haired guy with a poetic name clung to you the entire evening. Or—” she smirked—“you calling Viktor a meticulous stiff bastard.”

“Ambrose? I completely forgot about him,” you mused for a second. There had been an Ambrose sometime during your first weeks. He was from the theatre department too, full of big words, slightly obsessive, but overall nice. You never gave him your number, though, deciding it wasn’t meant to be.

“So you think Viktor loves me so much, jealousy rotted his guts?” you laughed a little too loudly, drawing a few irritated ‘shh!’ sounds from nearby students.

“Let’s say it’s my instinct,” Sue replied with a mischievous smile. “And remember, Y/N—trusting your instincts is key in science,” she added in a hushed, exaggerated Heimerdinger impression, causing you to suppress your laugh even further.

***

Viktor stretched in his chair. The last paper to check stared him in the eye, glaring at him almost as intensely as you had that morning. He groaned slightly at the pain in his leg as the door creaked open.

“Hi, partner,” Jayce greeted, shooting him a smile that was a mix of guilt and a plea for forgiveness. He’d left Viktor for an entire day to gallivant around campus with Mel. She had apparently needed strong arms to carry boxes of flyers advertising their winter show.

“Don’t ‘hi, partner’ me, Jayce,” Viktor huffed but smiled faintly under his nose. “How was it?”

“She’s really something, Vik. I can tell you over a beer?” Jayce offered, clearly still buzzing from his all-day hangout with his beautiful, smart, interesting, unique, elegant, new girlfriend.

“I think I’m going to call it a night. One last paper to check.” Viktor groaned slightly as he flipped your paper in front of his friend’s face. Jayce snatched it mid-air and studied it carefully for a minute.

“How come? I thought she was the only one to work around your… notes mishap?” Jayce tread carefully, noticing the frown forming on Viktor’s forehead. He knew exactly how Viktor had messed up the notes—sadly, it was partially his fault as well.

Viktor leaned back in his chair, still staring at the paper. “Yes, indeed, she was. She even tried to fix her answer when she put the test into the box,” he muttered quietly under his breath.

Jayce raised an eyebrow. “So why didn’t she?”

Viktor rolled his eyes, the motion quick and dismissive. “Because, Jayce, I don’t make exceptions for students who can't follow the rules.”

“Oh, Viktor,” Jayce sighed, shaking his head. “What did she do to get so deeply under your skin? Seriously, you're not usually like this.” Viktor was only mean and vigilant when he cared—or when he was hurt. That, Jayce knew. He just didn’t know which one it was.

Viktor shrugged nonchalantly, but there was an edge to his voice. “She’s just full of herself. Thinks she can do whatever she wants because she’s got it all figured out.”

Jayce’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. “Oh, I see. Well, if someone’s getting on your nerves that much, it usually means they’re reflecting something about you that you don’t want to see.”

Viktor stared at him blankly, the words almost not registering. Then, he let out a short, mocking laugh. “When did you start spreading the wisdom of your people around the world, Jayce?”

Jayce leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms casually. “Mel teaches me how to talk to difficult people now. You know, learning to understand them and not just shut them down immediately.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, his tone sceptical. “Am I the difficult one here?”

Jayce’s grin widened. “Clearly. I mean, you’re willing to fuck up Y/N’s final grade over a sentiment. That’s not exactly… rational behaviour, is it?” He leaned into the desk, hoping for a moment of self-reflection from his friend.

Viktor was silent for a moment, then scoffed, trying to brush off the conversation. “It’s not like that. I’m not just doing it to be petty.”

Jayce leaned in slightly. “So, what did you tell Heimerdinger about the mishap?”

Viktor leaned forward as well, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. “I told him the truth—both of us fell asleep in the lab, working on our side project. I had to rush to class that morning. No big deal.”

Jayce nodded, processing this. “I’m sure Heimerdinger won’t bat an eyelid if you step up for Y/N, especially since she did well in class. If anything, she deserves some leniency.”

Viktor paused, looking at his friend thoughtfully. “I guess I could do that. Just… don’t think this is something I do for everyone,” he exhaled, rubbing his temple. “But I’ll talk to Heimerdinger.”

Jayce smirked, leaning back in his chair again. “There you go. Maybe Mel’s influence is working on you after all.”

Viktor shot him a look, clearly not amused. But deep down, he couldn't deny there was something about you that unsettled him—and, for some reason, it had started to bother him more than he cared to admit.

“Just keep your wisdom to yourself,” Viktor muttered. “And get out of my office. I still have work to do.”

Jayce chuckled but stood up, winking. “Hey, it’s my office as well! But yeah, I get the point.” As Jayce exited, Viktor stared at the paper before him, his mind occupied by frustration. A meticulous stiff bastard he was indeed.

[velaenam]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc. you are a successful aerospace engineer, a girlboss, with terrible luck in romance. let's hope this strangers website brings you out of that rut! 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 – NSFW topics! swearing/foul language, strangers, slow burn, talks of depression/mental health, guilt tripping, manipulation, tba notes – not proofread. remember to read tags if you do have triggers. i try my best to update tags regarding each chapters, xo. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 5 of many ! previous chapter | next chapter

before we start. i started compiling a playlist for this story if you were interested lol. main song at the top, along with a bunch of music i listened to while writing this aka inspo LOL . music will be added as i go through the story. also THE TEXT MSGS ARE MAAAD RAUNCY BAYBEE LIKE GOOD GAWD.. U N CALEB ARE DOGGS... ;)

caleb gets up and leaves his phone on the couch. he grabs all the dishes and puts them in the sink. as he clangs around the kitchen she stirs from her sleep. she mumbles incoherencies as she fishes for her phone, her fingers gripping his. she turns it on and blinks at it. 

“whispr notification” she mumbles out, as her eyes squint at it, still needing to readjust her peripherals. she types calebs password with ease and her eyes glue to the notification. she hovers just before clicking it and waiting for the message to arrive.

space baby: you’re okay. not mad, just sad. id like to meet you. ive been thinking about you more than i thought and i think id like to see you if youre okay with that

her stomach drops and she stares at the messages, reading up as much as she possibly can before her lip quivers into some sickened jealousy. who is space baby and why is he talking to her? his wink emoji is reserved for me. why is he flirting with this woman he doesn’t know? a fire in her eyes ignite as she pathetically scrolls through the conversation, each talk lodging a jealous knife into her chest.  

as she goes through, shes hit with a chestful of pain. her lips tremble, is it from jealousy? from the fact her best friend couldn’t text her how he was feeling, and hes reaching out to someone else? as her feelings arise to the surface, caleb finishes cleaning the dishes, and rubs his neck, and walking over to the other side of the hallway. he rummages through the hallway closet, grabbing a towel, “hey pipsqueak, can i shower?” he calls out to her, and she gives him a loud ‘mhm’ before returning to sneak through the phone texts.

space baby: so we can ask anything we want since we’re two randoms right? captain apple: yep! no judgement here. space baby: favorite sex position? captain apple: hmm, i think it’d be cowgirl. i like when the woman is in control, missionary too– honestly as long as i can watch your face kind of thing. you get what i mean? space baby: no yeah i literally have the same mindset, i have a thing with power. dunno why. captain apple: ive got a thing for power too. 

she scowls, as this was unbearable to her. seeing this person speaking to caleb in such a dirty way, made her skin stand, her blood boil, her body temperature drop. 

captain apple: this is really weird, but do you use toys on yourself? i’m a guy obviously, but what do you think of men using toys? space baby: i have toys, but i don’t use them as frequent as i want. and yeah honestly, i don’t care if men use toys. kinda cute actually.  captain apple: cute? haha , space baby your vocab is limited. space baby: hey! it is! wtf lol

she wanted to vomit. caleb was so lewd-- so shameless, and with a random woman no less. this fucked with her as she continues, ignoring her senses

captain apple: do you believe in love? space baby: no i don’t. do you? captain apple: i do. maybe i can change your mind ;) space baby: you are…. so…so corny.. oh my god captain apple: but you didn’t say no!  space baby: fuck ok yes lol. can’t say no to you, you charming man. captain apple: well, maybe one day i can see your flushed face.  space baby: you can maybe see more than that.  captain apple: look who’s corny now! space baby: was it really? captain apple: no… that was.. space baby: ;)

that was enough for her. she throws the phone, and it shuffles onto the edge of the couch. she sits up from her seat, her chin on her knees. she contemplated, biting her bottom lip in debate as she waited for caleb to return. 

as he comes out of the shower he has a towel around his waist, and another towel in his hand rubbing his hair dry. he walks towards the living room where his friend sits balled up, and he goes to touch her head. she scrambles, pulling herself away from caleb.

“what’s the matter pips-” – “who is she?” her voice was low, almost trembling– not with fear, but laced with malice, “why are you texting her so much?” she reaches for his phone, dangling it in the air in front of him. caleb’s mouth goes dry, his face flash with guilt that he couldn’t hide fast enough, “it’s not– she’s just some random stranger that i met from the app. that’s all pips.” he attempts, but she shakes her head, “no- not from the conversations that i saw!” caleb stops in his track, a serious invasion of privacy. he tenses, but his demeanor doesn’t change, “what did you see, pipsqueak?”

she shakes her head again, turning his phone on, “i saw enough! caleb… i thought we were closer… i thought i’d be your #1.. it seems like someone else has your heart now….” she turns away her hurt evident from the things she had read. caleb was dumbfounded, lost, confused. he had never seen her act  so possessive of him, and he couldn’t understand why. whether she did this on purpose made his heart beat harder than he thought it could. 

“i’m sorry pipsqueak i-” caleb goes to defend himself, only to be cut off again by his pipsqueak, “you said we tell each other everything, you said we didn’t keep things!” – “i wasn’t hiding it..” he really wasn't. the man hadn't seen her in months.

“then why does this feel like betrayal?!” her eyes were glossed, but not from the tears. there was something wild behind them– hurt laced with protectiveness? “unadd her. block her, right now, caleb.” she huffs, holding the phone like it burned her, becking him to take it and oblige her. 

caleb looks at her stunned, heart pounding for reasons he wasn’t ready to say, “you don’t get to decide that.” he states dryly, eyes staring to darken as his hands move up to snatch the phone from her hands, “i do when it’s you.” she murmurs, looking off to the side, “because you’re mine , you’ve always been mine.” 

the silence that followed was suffocating— filled with everything he wanted to say and everything he could bring himself to. and somewhere between the space of loyalty and something messier— or rawer, caleb realizes they may be standing on the edge of a line they may not be able to recross one done so. 

he looks down at her piercing gaze, then back to his phone. he turns it on, putting his password in, and clicking whispr. he looks at it and begins to type, “caleb.” she pleads. his face snap to hers, and he could see how hurt she looked. at that moment he was faced with a choice. 

he hits backspace and clicks on the three dots above space baby’s name, 

“unmatch and unadd?”  click.

he slides next to her, and wraps his arm around her as she sobbed quietly. a mix of regret and pain in his eyes. pain that he felt that he had to make such a consequential choice. regret of the unknown. perhaps he lied to himself more than he wanted to? now he will never know who she was, and that was going to sting for a little bit

“im sorry… i didn’t know that was hurtful to you.. ill never do that again.” he brushes her hair as he leans his body towards her.

days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months. your maverick stunt was a side quest and your main one was getting neglected big time. skyhavens hangar hums quietly— save for the random bursts of the jet engines hydraulics or your footsteps. you move through active schematics, and glowing consoles, your sleeves rolled up, and your hair tied back. it’s been hours—- no days, since you’ve left the hangar. a cold cup of coffee and an inhaler of some sorts occupy your desk.

you adjust the thrust vectoring array on the new farspace fleet prototype. sleek, nimble, build for tunnel speed reactivity. your fingers move quickly and clinically, for distraction purposes.

there was a small hum from the console as a tech officer patches in while you were mid work, “you’re still here?” you respond without looking up, “this is where i work, and live apparently.” 

there was only a brief silence before the tech talks again, “you’ve run the thermal dispersal model 6 times now.” and without missing a beat, as if you were waiting for him to say something, “well it’s still not good enough. the tunnels don’t forgive errors.” 

once again you’re met by silence, assuming the tech unlinked the call, you sigh, before looking up at the model that returned your reflection, “at least you don’t vanish without a word.” 

caleb had a time after blocking space baby. he continued his regularly scheduled vacation to see her, and they spent more time texting. with her trying to text in the way space baby did, he felt appalled and quite honestly, icky. he didn’t have that weird connection that he did with her than he did with space baby, so with her trying to replace space baby it made him feel conflicted. on one hand it made him feel dejected, this kind of conversation is odd to have with someone he knew and no less, was attached to the hip. but on the other hand it makes him feel comfortable, and more domestic. 

he hadn’t seen you lately either. he’d ask about you and he’d hear multiple things in passing 

“probably busy with the new orders she got”

“she went to another country for work”

“they said she’s not in the building right now..” 

“she’s off and no i won’t disclose her whereabouts” caleb’d even gone to majors himself

when you were the topic there were excuses,  and he hates to admit but a part of him started to get even more sad. shifting three different attention into one person made life boring for him. you were suddenly so busy, and space baby no longer existed to him. he even tried to talk to whispr tech support about getting data and rematching and they’d give him the same answer.

he tried to find space baby again on whispr but by the end of the 2 weeks long process, he’s given up. space baby just didn’t exist in the system anymore and he had to come to terms with that. he relished it while it was fleeting. he enjoyed the life space baby gave the conversation, and sometimes took the reins. she didn’t do either. she was monotone, and would avert the conversation to her own accord. as much as he enjoyed getting that attention from her once more that he so much wanted weeks ago, he simply understood that life moves on, and part of moving one was meeting new people, or maybe it was to let things die down, and see where life took him.

you were okay for the most part. if you were lying to yourself of course. this whole situation made you feel even more iced out. your barrier got higher, and you worked and worked. you went out with your friends from time to time, but they definitely noticed the difference with you now.  it was temporary though– you’d promise. however,  you were just really bad with timing as usual. when you were going to take some time off the DAA called you into the office to have you start a highly classified program and you would work with multitudes of people from other departments. you’d be working with the DAA officially from here on out— or until you finished your project. so much for your planned vacation to another country. 

you finally finished, everything was going according to plan. you just had to finish the panel with the officials before you could take a temporary break. they knew they were straining you dry for having a one woman army tackle this, but there was nobody capable but you.

the room was stark and high tech, built for strategy and scrutiny. the prototype 3d model— sleek and formidable, rotators above the center table, and around the prototype a half circle of farspace fleet officials, commanders, engineers, and senior pilots sit stone faced and attentive.

you stand in front of the projector, a tablet in hand, and your shoulders squared. as they finish their conversations they turn to you, eyes locking with yours. you give them a half smile as you start your presentation. 

“good morning, I will be presenting the TG-X— the next generation tunnel rated aircraft designed for deep environment response“ and maneuverability, extended endurance in high-pressure zones, and rapid escape from collapse vectors.” 

you gesture and the ships hologram peels apart, revealing it’s system in layers, engines, shielding, navigation grid, etc. you clear your throat as the men and women look into each layers meticulously, “the TG-X runs on a twin-core propulsion system with independent stabilizer logic. that allows real time response with deepspace turbulence– down to .5 second input delay- give or take.” 

a fleet commander raises his fingers, his gruff voice ringing through the air, “twin-core setups overheat. you are risking a meltdown during boost.” your eyes dart to him, “not with our thermal regulators. each core is cooled by a fluid compression loop embedded in the outer hull struts– testing shows how heat dispersion exceeds prior models by 20-30 percent.” you flick your tablet, and the projection changes to a simulation. the TG-X navigating a collapsing tunnel scenario. field littered with debris, volatile currents, wanderers around. the ship dips, rolls, and escapes- cleanly.

the room is silent, the fleets people look amongst each other, clearly intrigued. the senior pilot leans in, her fingers trailing the wings, “and the wing design.. looks a little too light for heavy evasive thrusts, no?”  you tilt your head, clicking on the wing, and it opens the list of things it was comprised of, “flexible carbon titanium weave. reinforced at pivot points. it’s light because it has to be. if you’re using brute force in the tunnels well… you’re already dead.” 

that hangs in the air. a few of the officers glance at each other, before another one piped up, “you built this for survivability?” – “i build this so the people who fly it might actually come back.” it’s quiet once again. it settles like a weighted blanket. you stare off into the row of power, till you look back down on your tablet, the commander grunts, as if in a approving way, “we will authorize a full field evaluation. please prepare your men for the next proceeding.” 

you nod curtly, and they slowly file out of the room, until it was just you and your creation.  you don’t tremble. your hands don’t shake, even when they lower the lights and shut down the hologram. you stand, surrounded by silence and tech. no applause, and no words.  your design held up to the most powerful military government in the world, and they listened. this was your power. 

it was a cold evening, but you were even colder as you stood there, tight lipped, while your engineers yelled amongst each other. you tap your fingers on the table, as you look around the area of effect. whiteboard full of scribbles, schematics scattered everywhere, parts on the table, and the prototype sits pretty in the middle of everything. it was kinda relaxing, if hell relaxed you.

definitely beats watching reruns and being sad over a stupid captain apple. 

your thoughts are pried from you as one of the engineers slam their tablet down, “we can’t just run a single coolant loop through the avionics bay! if that line fails we lose guidance control and telemetry! do you not understand how difficult that’s going to be to deal with?” 

“we have a back up-”

“no we have a band aid. its redundant, and not to mention, wishful thinking!” in the corner like a wrestler another engineer raises his hand, “what if we triple the coolant lines. you wanna make it so dense back there no one can service it without disassembling the whole panel?”  finally you chuckle against their bickering, “if someone says serviceability i’ll kill everyone in here. this is a spacecraft, not a family sedan.”  

they all halt their bickering, as you continue, “you’re all right. avionics goes down– we lose everything. cant overload the architecture of the ‘craft. we need an active failover loop. independent routing, isolated power, isolated control logic.” 

you see them slump their shoulders in relief as they slink back into their seats, before you continue again, you start to point your fingers as you spoke to them, “you two rework the trunk layout and confirm thermal thresholds. you– build me a sim with both loop failures and see how long we can survive. and i- will be on redundancy logic. we need that switchover to be instant. autonomous.”  everybody grumbles, before nodding and dispersing for the night. 

they leave and you sit down, your finger rubbing circles on your temple. you were tired out of your mind. you couldn’t sleep though, you had damn near 4 cups of coffee and you were wired out of your mind. 

you grabbed your jacket as you closed the area down for the day. your heels click clack against the tarmac, and as you round the corner you spot a shadow a ways away, near a jet. your brows raise, as it was turning night, and no pilots that you knew of were supposed to be out doing night routines. 

you walk towards the shadow. you walking towards the shadow with absolutely no experience with combat, or a gun, you think to yourself, if this was a bad guy you were done for. but at the same time you were a mean track star back in college, so maybe you could outrun this figure. 

as you think of your possible early death you hear a donk, and followed by a “fuck!” and it snaps you out. it sounded like caleb. “pilot! what the hell are you doing out here this late?” you yell through the howling wind.

calebs body moves to the sound of your voice, and he drops his wrench. “oh shit– sorry. thought everybody was gone already.” your brows raise as he sits on the metal box, fiddling with the undercarriage. you sit down on the free metallic box and observe him. “i just got out of my meeting. you know there are workers for that right?” caleb chuckles as he moves out from the undercarriage, his smile accompanied with a grease line on his jaw. “its nice to be able to know how your companion works. i prefer to do things hands on.” he grabs the towel and rubs the grease off his face and arms, before tilting his head at you, “you know, i haven’t seen you in a while. how’ve you been?” 

“i’ve been better. exhausted honestly.” you put your hand in your face, groaning, “but i can’t sleep. 4th cup of coffee, and i think i have meetings back to back tomorrow, so i have to plan for that.” caleb nods sitting across from you. he grabs his squeeze bottle, taking a quick drink before he looks at you again, “you’re good with her. your plane.” he gives you a sheepish grin, before nodding, “i try to be.” 

“you’re not bad with people either.” you state, and his eyes linger on yours for a second longer, lips curving a bit. “i’ve got a good one in front of me right now. kind of hard to mess that up.” the words hang there, soft and honest. for a second your tired pacing mind stills. no simulations, no systems failing, no heat signatures or safety thresholds… just– him. caleb. 

and it feels nice.

..

..

“do you want to take a nap with me?” your eyes widen, what does that mean? “huh?” you reply dumbfoundedly, and he chuckles, “i mean i woke up from a nap, so i won’t be going to bed anytime soon. if you wanted i could wake you up so you could make it to your meeting on time?” 

you couldn’t help but feel warm from that statement. that was just– lovely. you’d be a fool to say– “no.” you mumbled softly, and caleb laughs awkwardly, “well, i figured i’d offer you.” you rise from the metallic box, and place your hand on his shoulder, “i appreciate your offer, caleb. but i think i’ll manage.” you go to ruffle his hair, and he grips your wrist gently. the two of you stare into each others eyes briefly before you let go so abruptly. you clear your throat, nodding at him, “good night caleb.” 

“good night” he says quietly as he watched you walk off into the building.

a couple weeks go by, your run ins with caleb became more prevalent. you’d be walking around the corner and crash into him. you’d see him walk into the lounge with his friends and they’d take turns ogling you like a piece of meat. you were fine with it, carnal desire was human. but the moment catcalling started hands would be thrown. but they knew better than that. they’d definitely get court martialed for less. 

he would try to get you involved in the stupid escapades the pilots and cadets were doing, only for it to fail miserably as you glare daggers and walked off, but he’d always catch that smile on your face as you rounded the corner. so to him it was worth the trouble.

you’d lock eyes with him as he got ready for flight, the hands on shoulders become more frequent, and your relationship with him gradually rises. the lingering stare became more of a thing when he’d pick up your food for you when you ordered something. he knew where your office was, and he’d make the trek across the runways just to bring it to you if needed. you'd stare at him, maybe share a meal if he had time. talk about your shared interest. shared interested that you may have already known from whispr.

you were a bit intrigued with his sudden pamper to you. you thought it would be because of the moment you two shared the other night, but you also figured that caleb was just a kind guy. a kind guy that was interested in you. not that you were against that– you were clearly interested in him as well. 

knock knock 

“come in” you say monotonously through the tempered glass. your eyes move to see who had come in, and it was caleb. he had a cup of coffee from the shop you had talked about, and your face turned to glee.

“i got you a brown shaken espresso. it’s new.” you thanked him and grabbed the cup, the hot content warming your cold fingers. oh yes, the richest government property in the country and their AC/heater was fucked. 

“thank you so much. how much do i owe you?” he shakes his head as he sits across your desk, “its nothing. honestly.” caleb chuckled, and you stare at him as your computer popped up an email. you read it as it comes in. it simply read;

“maverick is captain calebs. love dad.” you state to caleb. his eyes widen as he smiles in glee, “oh really? you sure you didn’t mess with the results?” you chuckle, shaking your head as you sipped the drink, “course not. but im not surprised. you performed exceptionally well compared to others. you blew them out of the water.” you chuckle at him as the two of you converse about what the next plan of topic was for the maverick. they would be swapping his current plane with the maverick, and they’d have his name on the side and everything. 

“caleb, what are you doing for the holidays?” 

he stills, and for a moment he looked like he was thinking. he did promise he was going to see his pipsqueak, but ever since the events that had happened when he last went, he was a bit drawn back. but he also promised her, and he’s never broke a promise to her.

“i’m probably going to go see pipsqueak..” – “is that like your pet?” – “n-no that’s my best friend in linkon..”-- “your best friends name is pipsqueak? like the radio nav?” he looked flustered, “y-yeah.. that..but no-- thats not her actual name” 

“well that’s cute.” you lie, your deadpan voice giving it away, he chuckles lowly, and puts his cup down, “what about you? anyone special you’re spending time with during the holidays?”  you place your palm on your jaw, and lean your elbow into the desk, a smirk flashing in your eyes, “oh, are you offering?” his face tints pink– and his ears! you giggle as you saw his face redden, and as embarrassing as it was for him, caleb felt at home. you were so warm, and your laugh was music to his ears. he feels as if he was falling, in a good way.

“i could be..” 

“well, i’ll hold you to that.. though, holidays aren’t in like another couple weeks.. but i do love to reserve ahead of time. you’ve got yourself a deal mr caleb.” you wink, and he smiles, before the intercom calls for ‘captain caleb to hangar 23’. he excuses himself as you nod at him, going back to your work. 

friday- he’s out with his friends, bar hopping, except he was designated driver. they were let go early due to the fleet having to come in and conduct their meeting. the fewer eyes the better for them as they say. so now his group of friends and him were currently at another bar to celebrate the early off into the weekend. 

he comes outside of the bar, taking a deep deep breath and closing his eyes. a semblance of peace was all he needed before he went crazy in there. he leans into the brick wall, steadying his breath as he continued to relax.

the neon sign hums, ‘OPEN’ with the E flickering here and there. music and muffled laughter spilling out everytime the door swings open. it was a pilot’s hangout– gritty and loud. the kind of place people go to forget the pressure of space and hardness of work. 

“-- well well, you look exhausted, captain.” his eyes snapshot open, catching your eyes. he straightens a little, turning his body to meet yours. “oh! you caught me off duty. don’t tell command…” he murmurs, and you laugh gently, shaking your head, “relax, i’m not a snitch. i also don’t care what DAA’s finest does on their off time. it’s been a tiring couple months for everybody.” 

a short silence settles between you two. not awkward, but not easy. he watched you stare at him, as he takes your outfit in. you wore it simple today. rings, earrings, v cut short sleeve, with high waisted pants, and white sneakers. when he noticed his prolonged stare he breaks contact, shifting his gaze through the window to watch his friends holler into a mic. he turns back to you, his eyes twinkling as it clashed with the neon colors, “what’re you doing here such a dingy area?” you join him, leaning on the brick wall yourself, and you shrug, “i love the bar food here. you?” – “i’m the guys designated driver for the night. not a big alcohol guy.” 

your eyes move to look at him, your impending curiosity beating harder. you wanted to know so bad. “responsible. how sweet. what do you do to relax and give yourself time?” you smiled at him, as the two of you watch the cars drive by. caleb hums a small chuckle, “well, i like watching planes take off.. i used to do it a lot when i was younger– with my best friend. i also read a lot of books on my free time. i’m a fan of dinosaurs and jurassic park, if you’ve heard?” 

you shake your head, “no i definitely have not, but it sounds cool. are you doing anything this weekend?” you go to reach your phone, and caleb shakes his head, “nope. how did your date with gideon go? he didn’t want to tell me.” 

you freeze up, and purse your lips, looking off to the side, looking a bit guilty. “i couldn’t do it. my mind was just preoccupied, and i don’t really date.” you lie, as you bump phones with caleb. he just gives you a nod and a ‘ah’ before you smile up at him again, “i apologize, but i’ve gotta get going. i bought pizza for tonight, and it’s ready for me. i hope to hear from you soon?” you tilt your head at him as you start for the door. caleb could only give you a nod.

you are home. tired, damn near defeated, but home. you place your pizza in the oven and set it to warm as you head to your room to change into something comfortable. you throw on your robe and your satin loungewear. you got a couple of drinks on the way home after your run in with caleb, and decided to settle down and catch up on island love. 

the pizza was sweltering, cheese ready to stretch as you pull a piece apart. it was like a cartoon pizza. it made your mouth water as you got yourself ready to pull an all nighter.

not 1 hour in you get a call. it was from caleb. you fumble your phone and hit answer as you lower the volume of the tv show, “hello?” he goes first, and you clear your throat, smiling through your words, “didn’t expect to hear from you so soon, caleb.” you could hear his laugh, his tone low and warm, “i just wanted to check and make sure you made it home..” it was a lie, and you both knew it, “you know… your delivery sucks…” you chuckle, and he does too after a second, “hm you know i’m kinda working on it.” 

there was a brief silence, before you ask the obvious, “why are you calling me this late?” another silence, followed by , “just dropped everybody off, and wanted to talk to you.” your heart skips a beat, and you swallow hard, fighting the smile creeping on your face, “hey caleb, do you want to come over? if you’re not tired. do you like chinese food?” 

“i’d be happy to. text me your address, and yes i do.”

“great. i’ll have majors pick you up.” 

-

caleb was lost for words. he was in the back of a sleek and kept car. assuming yours, with majors driving and on calebs lap, was a bag of chinese food that majors had picked up on his way to pick caleb up. you certainly had a lifestyle he was not known to. 

as majors gets out, he opens the door for caleb. he gets out, and he is met with a skyscraper in front of him. it was so very obvious you would have to have some sort of money to live in a place like this. he swore the foyer had real diamonds in there as he ogled. 

majors leads him to the elevator and they both get in. the silence kills them, as they stand apart, staring at the metallic door. 

ding! majors steps out first and followed by caleb. 

“be careful with her.” caleb looks to majors, who was just walking ahead, not a beat missed, “it’ll take a while for you to get used to her ways, but she’s a good woman.” he states, as he knocks on your apartment door. the sound of your shuffles break the quietness that meditated in the hallway, and shortly after your door opens. 

majors nods to you before heading out of sight, and you stand here with caleb. your face breaks out into a smile, and you step aside, urging him to come in. caleb comes in, staring in awe at how breathtaking your apartment was. there were faux models of black and white planes suspended on the sides, about the size of his forearms. he looked at the photos of what looked like was your father on maverick when he was still piloting it, grinning under his helmet. another wall was filled with your degrees, framed like trophies, centered around a photo of your graduation. you were certainly distinguished. he even looks at your dinner table– a blueprint heaven. tools, notebooks, a half-dissected engine schematic. you never stop working, it seems. “you ever turn your brain off?” he mumbles just loud enough for you to hear, and he hears your sweet chuckle float over his shoulder before you indulge him, “if i did that then i’d have no money, and you wouldn't have mav.”

on a nearby bookshelf, caleb spots a faded photo in a silver frame. a much younger version of you is perched on your dad’s shoulder, both of you wearing matching aviator sunglasses. theres  grease on his flight suit, and juice stains on your overalls. he chuckled, his heart warming at the sight of. he can really tell your love for planes. hell, it might even be more than his. 

he snaps out of his trance as he joins you on the couch. he looks down at the coffee table, a cute little metallic version of maverick on the middle, along with some magazines and a candle. he watches as you clear it out to the side and pat the table.

“hey. here’s the take out you wanted.”  he says as he places the takeout in front of you both. “i didn’t know what you wanted, so i ordered some other stuff.” you say, as you take everything out of the bag, placing them on the coffee table. he stares at you as you take everything out, before turning his attention to the tv in front of you both. “what are we watching?” he chuckles, as you take your place next to him. 

“island love. it’s juicy, it provides me drama in my life that i do not have.” you say pridefully, as you explain the premise of the show to caleb. he looked so into it, asking you questions as you restart the season just for him. he comments on the show just as much as you do, and this made your heart flutter, and the butterflies in your stomach come alive. 

“you’re not gonna eat that last dumpling are you?” caleb asks with a sly grin. your brows raise, “was gonna save it…” he leans over, splitting the dumpling in half with his chopstick, and drops a piece into your container. he smirks at you, “compromise” he says as he chews on his half.

there’s a lull. the screen flickers. the two of you are quiet but not uncomfortable. he leans back a little, finishing his drink, and you catch yourself watching him. he looks good here. settled. natural. too natural, maybe. you shake the thought, tucking your feet beneath you. ugh god he’s fine.

you two talk—about work, about families, about stupid stuff. it’s easy, and warm, and you realize somewhere between the second dumpling and your explanation of why jamie should’ve never picked chloe that you don’t want this night to end. 

“so hey, question.” you grab the remote and turn the volume down as you look at caleb. he looks at you, grabbing his drink, “gideon told me you use whispr? he told me about your silly challenge.” you laugh briskly, and he nods, joining in, “did he tell you that i had to take them out for dinner?” he chuckles again, placing his drink on the table. your eyes never leave his, as you open your mouth to speak:

“ captain apple, was it?” 

his eyes widen.

it takes him back to the time where he got busted by grandma. he was trying to sneak some food up the stairs, and was strictly forbidden to take food in his room. so when he got busted he looked like a deer in headlights. 

the tension between you and caleb shifts, subtle but unmistakable. you tilt your head, repeating your words to him. his eyes finally lock with yours, his awkward smile catching the gleam of the tv, “did he… uh tell you my silly nickname on there?” 

ah, he was playing stupid. you shake your head at him, “ha, for sure. i used it a little bit as well.. lets see.. what was my name on there” you fake ponder, before you continue to mess with him, "space baby i think?" he just stares at you, “oh..” he breathes. 

you always wanted to know who was that charmer in those messages that kept you late at night. the man who was always making you laugh and the one who indulged you. knowing it was caleb made your heart a little happier, but you still wanted to know why the fuck? 

“i can explain…” he starts and you just nod,

“go ahead because we have all night— weekend even.” 

his gaze flicker at you, then his hand, “it’s not what you think… i… when i went to go visit her, my childhood friend? the one i was telling you about that one day., she saw the text messages.” your cheeks flush, those were certainly some raunchy messages. you wondered which one, and a part of you wanted to laugh at her, but you nod at him, “she didn’t like… that i was getting too close to you. she suddenly got- possessive? i’ve never seen the side of her.” he mutters under his breath and you breathe a sigh through your nostril. 'sounds like somebody had a crush they didn't want to come to terms with', you think as you allow him to continue,

“she thought… well, that we were getting too close.. that i was getting…. involved..” caleb shifts uncomfortably, his hands clenching into a fist but quickly releasing, “so to appease her i unadded you.” 

the words sting more than you expected, even though you weren’t really expecting much, it still sucked to hear. unadded. like you were just someone to be removed. the weight of it presses down on you, though you try to smile through it— albeit a little bittersweet.

“so you let your best friend dictate who you can and can’t talk to?” you try to keep the humor in your voice but it comes off a bit cutting to him. that most definitely wasn’t your type of man. having this discussion was cutting it close for you as it is “it’s not like that…” his voice softens with an edge of guilt to it, “i didn’t want to but… it got complicated..” 

your heart flutters out of your chest, and your brows scrunch towards each other, “caleb, complicated was me rerunning tests 6 times in a row with random ass results. i don’t want to be rude but it just sounds like you have no backbone for this girl.” you pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing. he feared that you were right. you were speaking truth to existence and he couldn’t do a damn thing. if anything he enjoyed the truthfulness from you. “im going to state the obvious.  we were flirting back and fourth, like a lot. what are we supposed to do with this new found information?”

caleb looks up at you as he ponders himself, “to be honest. i was a bit more bold in the text messages because… i thought we’d never meet..” you chuckle at him, cheeks tinted in pink, “me too.” but you snap out of it. now was not the time to fall for his sexiness! OR do, either way works.

“im going to level with you. im not much for the three way couple stuff… so if you and i are gonna take whispr out of the internet then… you know.” you wag your finger at him, a playful but curious smile on your face now. caleb laughs, calming down, “yeah i… i know..”  you were not going to deal with this little girl who was his best friend, and you were going to make that very and painfully clear if you had to, and from how much caleb figured, you weren’t going to play about him. it made his heart flutter, amongst other things. you looked sexy when you were possessive.

“so, what do you want to do?” you ask after a minute of silence, caleb leans into his arm staring down at you, and you steel your nerves. those lips were calling your name, “let me ask you a better question. are you interested in me?” he smirks into the question, seeing you unravel in real time. “uhm… yes obviously.” you look away from him, your face turning red. caleb takes his opportunity to chuckle, his fingers hooking your chin and forcing you to stare at him. he leans down to get a better look at you. your eyes were locked on his as he continued, “then… we’ll carry off where we were in whispr, yeah?” 

you were just at a loss of words.

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Bearer And The Bound

☰ Pairings: Sukuna x Reader, Slight Megumi x Reader

✧ Summary: When you stumble upon an ancient ring in an abandoned house, you unknowingly bind yourself to a cruel, powerful demon who thrives on torment. Trapped in a reluctant bond and forced to navigate a shared existence, Sukuna plots your downfall while you fight to survive his sadistic games. But as your fates entwine and secrets of Sukuna’s dark past begin to unravel, the lines between enemy and ally start to blur.

✧ Tags: True form Sukuna, Enemies to Lovers, Dark Romance, Demonic Bonds, Heavy Angst, Slow Burn, Sukuna is Bad at Feelings, Possessive Sukuna, Tension, Forced Proximity, Eventual Smut, College/University AU, More Tags To Be Added Later

✧ Status: Ongoing

✧ You can also read it on AO3

☰ CHAPTER TWO: The Strings of Control

Chapter Summary: You and Sukuna struggle for power as you learn to assert yourself.

☰ Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

You wake up to soft sunlight filtering through the blinds, casting warm shadows throughout your room. Your body feels heavy, drained from the night before. The fear lingers, clinging to your every thought. You barely slept, maybe an hour or two, but it was restless and filled with nightmarish fragments of glowing red eyes and wicked laughter. You can’t face the world today, not after that. With a shaky sigh, you reach for your phone.

There’s a message waiting from Megumi.

Hey, didn’t see you in class this morning. Everything okay?

Fuck. You had completely forgotten about class, about anything that didn’t involve the creature lurking somewhere within the walls of your apartment. You stare at the message, chewing your lip. There’s no way you can tell him the truth—not that you’d expect him to believe it. You quickly decide on a response.

Yeah, I’m not feeling good today. Sorry I missed class.

His reply comes almost immediately:

Don’t apologize. Get some rest. I’ll come by and drop off some notes after school.

Panic flares within you after reading his words. Megumi can’t come here now, not after what happened last night, you don’t know how dangerous that creature is or what he might do. You type back quickly, your fingers flying over the keys.

No, it’s okay! You don’t need to do that. I wouldn’t want you to get sick because of me. I’ll catch up tomorrow.

There’s a delay in his response, and for a moment you’re afraid he might push back harder, insisting on coming over. But then your phone buzzes again.

Alright, take care of yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Relief floods through you as you set your phone down. But it’s short lived. You glance around the room, the events of last night entering your thoughts once more. Was he still here? That… thing, the one who had mocked you, threatened you. You hadn’t seen or heard him since he vanished into the shadows, but you feel like you can still sense his presence, like the air is charged with something unnatural.

For what feels like hours, you stay holed up in your room, wrapped in a ball underneath the covers, trying to make as little noise as possible, afraid to attract attention. The thought of him possibly creeping back into your room makes you shudder.

But eventually, you can’t ignore the gnawing hunger in your stomach, or the dryness in your throat. You hesitate, listening for any sound, any sign of movement from beyond your bedroom door. When you hear nothing, you cautiously slip out of bed, creeping toward the door as quietly as you can. You grip the handle and slowly pull it open.

The apartment is silent.

You step out into the hallway, peering around cautiously. Nothing. The apartment is empty, exactly how you left it. There’s no sign of him, no sign of anything wrong. Your breath escapes in a shaky sigh of relief.

Maybe it really was a dream. A terrible, vivid dream.

But the throbbing heat of the ring still wrapped around your finger tells you otherwise.

You move cautiously toward the kitchen, still expecting something—anything—to happen. But the apartment stays silent, and after the minutes continue to pass, you start to let your guard down.

Maybe I’m just losing my mind. Maybe this is all some stress-induced hallucination, and there’s nothing to worry about.

You try to shake yourself from your thoughts, gathering some supplies to make breakfast.

It’s fine. Everything is—

Suddenly, the shadows in the room begin to move, just barely, but enough to catch your attention. They stretch unnaturally across the walls and floor, like ink spreading through water. You blink, convinced your eyes are playing tricks on you, but when you look again, they’ve shifted once more.

A sharp chill runs down your spine. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, and a sense of dread creeps over you. You freeze, your heart pounding in your ears.

You slowly turn around, the dread pooling in your stomach, and sure enough, he’s there. The same figure from before. Tall, menacing, and watching you with those bright red, emotionless eyes. He stands in the shadows by the window, both sets of arms crossed, a smug, sinister grin plastered across his face.

Fuck.

You let out a sharp gasp, backing up until your back hits the edge of the counter.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” he quips, “You were just about to make breakfast, were you not?”

The amused glint in his eyes only makes you more uneasy. He’s clearly enjoying this. You want to run and hide, but you have a feeling there’s nowhere you could go that he wouldn’t be able to find you.

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady your voice.

“What do you want from me?”

His grin widens, revealing sharp, predatory fangs. He takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

And then, the lights above you flicker briefly, the soft hum of the bulbs dimming. A whisper, so faint you almost miss it, brushes past your ear. You whip around at the sound, but nothing is there. You feel a sudden chill at your back, like something is breathing down your neck. It makes goosebumps rise along your flesh.

Your gaze snaps back to the demon, whose grin has only grown impossibly wider. He’s toying with you.

“Losing your mind already, little girl?”

You reach for your water glass, sitting on the counter behind you, needing something solid to ground yourself. But when you try to close your hand around it… it’s not there. You turn around, only to see the cup sitting on the opposite counter, far out of your reach, as if moved by some unseen hand.

He cackles softly, taking yet another step toward you.

“You humans are so fragile. So easy to break.”

You slam your hands on the counter, anger finally giving way to fear.

“What is your problem?” you demand, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

Then, his expression shifts slightly, amusement still on the surface—but there’s something else there too, just underneath. It almost looks like approval.

“Oh, there she is! Feeling bold, are we?”

The room grows colder as he watches you. He takes another step, closing the gap between you. His figure towers over yours, the shadows around him twisting unnaturally.

“What do you want from me?” you try again, determined to get some answers out of him.

“If you must know,” he sighs, rolling his eyes in sudden annoyance, “I’m bound to you now. The ring is why I’m here.”

He nods toward your hand, and your eyes drop to the ruby ring wrapped tight around your finger.

“You put it on,” he continues, voice low and taunting, “and now… I’m here. Until you die.”

His grin returns at your discomfort. “But don’t misunderstand. You’re not special. You just got unlucky.”

You swallow hard, trying to process his words, but your mind is racing. Until I die? Your eyes meet his again, searching for answers in his cruel, unyielding gaze.

“So why haven’t you just killed me?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

His eyes flash with something you can’t quite place. He takes a step back, then, tilting his head as if contemplating your question. For a long moment, he says nothing, surveying you calmly, watching you squirm under his intimidating stare.

“You’re a bit slow, aren’t you? I can’t kill you. Not directly, anyway,” he gestures again to the ring on your finger.

You blink, confused, trying to make sense of his words. But then you think back to the night before, the way he had stopped right after you begged him not to kill you… it suddenly makes sense. He didn’t choose to stop. You made him stop. Somehow.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and you stare down at the ring once more, eyes wide.

You have control over him.

The demon chuckles darkly, watching you connect the dots in your mind.

“Don’t get too comfortable with that knowledge, brat. I’m not one to follow orders blindly.” His eyes gleam with wicked intent.

You continue to stare at the ring, your mind racing, trying to piece together what little you’ve learned.

One: there’s a demonic entity in your living room, and you’re stuck with him… for life.

Two: you seem to have some amount of control over him.

Yet you still feel so powerless, so lost. Your heart pounds as you feel the weight of what’s happening pressing down on you, smothering you.

You glance back up at him, realizing there’s one thing you still don’t know. You gather your courage as you look him dead in the eyes once more.

“What’s your name?”

He snickers at your question. “My name?” he leans in, his red eyes glowing brighter, as if daring you to keep asking questions. “You don’t know?”

You can feel your pulse quickening, every instinct in your body telling you to lean away, but you hold your ground.

“No… tell me.”

“Ryomen Sukuna.”

His voice drops dangerously as he speaks his name, as if it’s a threat in itself.

You blink, the name foreign to your ears. He watches your reaction closely, his eyes narrowing when he sees the confusion written across your face.

The flicker of frustration in his face is quickly masked by a grin, and he chuckles darkly.

You stand there, trying to absorb everything he just told you. His name—Sukuna. It means nothing to you now, but the way he said it, the weight in his voice, it feels important, albeit terrifying.

“The… bond. What does that entail?” you ask, wanting to know more.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He answers, suddenly looking bored of the conversation.

Before you can ask any more questions, he disappears again, his form melting into the shadows.

Even though he’s gone, you know he’s still there, somewhere. You can still feel his presence all around you, threatening to swallow you whole.

You collapse onto the couch, your plan of making breakfast long forgotten. You sit there for a while, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. The silence in the room feels suffocating, broken only by your shallow breaths. Your thoughts are racing, and you still have so many questions. What does this bond actually mean? What are the rules? You have some sort of control over Sukuna, but how much? For how long? Most importantly, how can you get out of this?

Enough wondering. You need answers.

Grabbing your phone from the coffee table, you open a browser, your fingers trembling slightly as you type in the search bar:

Demonic bonds.

The results are overwhelming. Countless myths, legends, and stories about ancient curses, soul-binding pacts, and entities from other realms. You sift through them, growing more and more frustrated. None of them seem to match your situation. But then, something catches your eye. A small, obscure article buried deep within the search results.

Bound to the Bearer: The Truth Behind Cursed Objects.

You click on it, reading quickly through the text. The article describes ancient objects that bind demons or spirits to the person who possesses them—rings, necklaces, amulets. The descriptions are eerily close to what you’re experiencing. As you scroll, one line in particular catches your attention.

The demon is bound to the wearer, cursed to follow them wherever they go, whether in darkness or light. There is no escape.

Your stomach churns. No escape? Does that mean he’s going to be with you… everywhere?

You feel a lump form in your throat as the words sink in. He’s not just lurking in your apartment. He’s bound to you, tied to your every step. How are you supposed to return to your normal life? How can you ever leave your home again?

You scroll down further, desperate for some kind of way to make this stop. That’s when you come across another section that makes you pause.

Commands given by the bearer must be obeyed, though the demon will often seek loopholes.

Commands? You have the power to command him? That explains why he stopped when you begged him not to kill you. You had unknowingly given him your first command.

Your mind reels as you sit back on the couch, hugging your phone to your chest. So you do have control over him, at least to a degree. But the warning in the article rings in your ears: he’ll seek loopholes.

You squeeze your eyes shut. There’s no escaping this, but at least you can make him obey. The thought brings you little comfort as you glance warily around the room, wondering if he’s watching, waiting to test your limits. There’s no way he’ll just mindlessly follow your commands. He’s made that much clear.

The knowledge that Sukuna is bound to follow you wherever you go sits heavily on your mind. You set your phone aside, already feeling exhausted.

You glance down at the ring on your finger again. The ruby stone gleams faintly in the light, a constant reminder of what you’ve gotten yourself into. There’s no escaping from this. No running. No hiding.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The next few days pass in a blur of fear and tension. You haven’t left your apartment, the thought of bringing Sukuna with you keeping you confined within the walls of your home.

At first, every creak of the floorboards, every flicker of the lights caused by him made you nearly jump out of your skin, always followed by his loud cackles. But after a while, it starts to lose its effect on you. There are still moments, sure, like when he sends an object flying off a shelf, the loud noise as it crashes to the ground startling you. But for the most part, you find yourself starting to ignore it.

Because of that, his antics have started to die down. Sure, he still watches you, still lingers in the shadows of your apartment, his presence a reminder of the bond you now begrudgingly share. But he’s almost grown… quieter. The sharp edge of fear that once gripped you has dulled, replaced with a simmering unease instead of raw terror. You realize that you’re not as scared of him as you were before, because he can’t harm you, not really. Because of your command, he’s mostly harmless. Mostly.

Still, the tension between you lingers, unspoken and heavy. You can feel him watching, always on the edge of your vision, but he hasn’t made any aggressive moves since that first night in your bedroom.

But now, you’re facing a different kind of problem.

You glance into your fridge, the glaringly empty shelves staring back at you. You’re down to the last scraps of food, and your stomach is growling in protest. You’ve put off leaving the apartment for as long as you can, but you can’t avoid it any longer. You have to go to the store.

You sigh, closing the fridge with a sense of resignation. As much as you’d love to avoid facing the world—and more importantly, avoid dealing with Sukuna outside these walls—you’ve run out of options.

You can feel his eyes on you as you gather your things. He hasn’t said a word, but you know he’s waiting for the inevitable. You grab your shoes, slipping them on before you turn to face him, attempting to sound more calm and controlled than you feel.

“I have to go to the store. I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m not letting you cause trouble while I’m out,” you hesitate, but then remembering you must give a command, you continue, “You won't hurt or bother anyone. Got it?”

Sukuna, who had perked up once he saw you getting ready to leave, no doubt excited to finally go out and wreak havoc onto the world, now rolls his eyes.

“Is that so?”

You nod at him and look back to the front door, biting your lip. You hope the command holds. You’d hate to get anyone else involved in this mess.

With one last glance at him, you grab your bag and open the door, stepping out into the fresh air.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Just as you’re approaching the store's parking lot, you have a sudden realization: what if Sukuna can be seen by others? You’d been so distracted by the thought of him hurting the other people in the store, that until now you hadn’t stopped to think that he would also be seen. And what a sight he was. Even that would be enough to cause chaos, what with him having four limbs and eyes. Not to mention his inhumane size and overall menacing aura. The thought almost makes you stop in your tracks, almost turning back around, but you really do need food… and you’ve already gotten this far. The best you can do is pray to the powers that be that this trip goes as smoothly as possible.

You grip the handle of the shopping cart tight as you cautiously step through the automatic doors of the grocery store. The bright lights and hum of activity is a stark contrast to the quiet of your apartment. You glance around nervously, expecting people to turn and stare at you at the very least. After all, you’ve got a tall demonic creature looming over you, just a step away, practically humming with sinister excitement.

You feel a spike of anxiety as you walk past a group of shoppers, bracing for the possible reaction—the panic, the screams. How could anyone ignore a demon stalking the aisles?

No one reacts.

A man with a shopping basket walks by without even glancing in your direction. A mother hurries past with her child, not so much as flinching at the sight of Sukuna trailing behind you. Your heart skips a beat, confusion swirling in your chest.

You stop, looking around as you pass more people. Nothing. No one bats an eye. It’s almost like… they can’t even see him. You glance back over your shoulder, your breath catching as you see Sukuna grinning at you, looking like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“Expecting something different?”

A sense of relief floods through you at the confirmation that Sukuna is invisible to others. No one else can see him. He’s your nightmare, and yours alone.

You turn back to your cart and continue pushing it forward, breathing out a sigh. The knowledge does relax you, but it also makes you feel more isolated, more vulnerable. You still have half a mind to believe this is all in your head, that you’ve finally snapped and this is just the beginning of your insanity.

You continue down the aisles, grabbing items from your shopping list, when suddenly, the fluorescent lights above you start to flicker. No one else seems to notice, of course. Just you.

As you turn down another aisle, you feel a slight shove against your back, nearly knocking you off balance. You spin around, but there’s no one near enough to have bumped into you. Sukuna chuckles, and you grit your teeth, frustration bubbling inside you as you carry on.

Suddenly, a bag of rice falls off a shelf to your left, spilling across the floor with a loud thump. You jump, your nerves fraying with every small disturbance. Sukuna is playing with you, you know that, but there’s nothing you can do. Not here, not in public.

You kneel down, hurriedly trying to clean up the mess, when you feel someone’s eyes on you. Looking up, you meet the gaze of an older woman, who’s staring at you with a frown. The judgment in her eyes is clear.

“It's fun, watching you scramble like a fool,” Sukunas voice rings out behind you.

You shoot a glare in his direction as you stand, brushing off your hands. Another shopper walks by, accidentally bumping into you. Your groceries tumble to the ground, and the woman mumbles an apology before hurrying off. You glance around, feeling like all eyes are on you, but Sukuna’s voice continues to taunt you, unseen and unheard by anyone else.

“I could knock all of this down. Cause a scene. How would you explain that, hm?”

He moves closer, his presence a dark weight at your side. You clench your hands at your sides, willing yourself not to react, knowing that’s exactly what he wants.

“Stop messing with me. Let me finish shopping in peace,” you whisper, shooting daggers at him.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” he replies.

But then, he lets out a long, exaggerated sigh, knowing he has no choice but to obey your command. His grin fades into a look of mock disappointment.

“You really are dreadfully boring, aren’t you?”

He stands there for a moment, his four eyes sparkling as though considering whether to push you further. But then, with a lazy wave of his hand, he steps back, his presence retreating slightly.

“Fine. I’ll let you finish your pathetic little errand in peace. But don’t expect me to make this a habit.”

You let out a shaky breath, relief washing over you as you feel him pull back. The tension in your shoulders eases, but you know better than to fully relax. Even when he’s not actively tormenting you, the weight of his presence still presses down on you, a constant reminder that he’s there. He’s always going to be there.

For the rest of the shopping trip, you manage to gather the rest of your items in relative peace. Every so often, you catch a glimpse of him in the corner of your eye, or feel the cold prickle of his gaze on the back of your neck, but thankfully he doesn’t interfere.

As you make your way to the checkout, you glance behind you just to make sure he’s keeping his word. He’s there, of course, still watching, but he remains silent.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You return home from the store with your arms full of groceries, exhausted from the whole ordeal. It can’t keep going like this every time, you have to figure out how to gain more control over him. You let out a deep breath as you close the door behind you, grateful to finally be back in the safety of your apartment.

As you start unpacking the groceries, you hear a knock at the door. You ignore it at first, thinking it’s another one of Sukuna’s tricks, but then you hear it again, more firmly this time. You spin around to face the door.

You weren’t expecting anyone.

Cautiously, you peer through the peephole, your heart sinking when you see Megumi standing there, hands in his pockets, looking concerned.

You open the door, offering him a nervous smile.

“Megumi! Uh, hey… what are you doing here?”

Megumi frowns at you. “You’ve been avoiding everyone. I wanted to check in, make sure you’re alright.”

Your stomach twists at his words. You’ve been isolating yourself for days, not leaving your apartment or responding to anyone’s texts. Of course Megumi had noticed.

He glances over your shoulder into the apartment, “Can I come in?”

Panic surges through you. Sukuna is somewhere in here, lurking. You can’t exactly tell Megumi the truth, but you also can’t turn him away without raising suspicion. Reluctantly, you step aside and let him in.

“Oh! Yeah, sure… um, about that. I’m sorry. I’ve just been feeling off.”

As soon as he steps inside, you start feeling incredibly nervous. There’s no telling what Sukuna might do with Megumi here.

As you shut the door, you quickly whisper under your breath, hoping Sukuna hears you.

“Don’t hurt him. Don’t bother him. Please.”

You don’t hear a response, and at this point, you know better than to think Sukuna will simply listen without twisting your words. Still, you try to act normal as Megumi walks into the living room, eyeing you with suspicion.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been acting different.”

You force a smile, trying to keep your voice casual. “I’m fine. Really, I promise. I’ve just been tired.”

As you say the words, you feel a chill creep into the room, a sudden drop in temperature that makes you shiver. You glance around, and though you don’t see Sukuna, you already know he’s the source of it.

Megumi doesn’t say anything at first, but you can see the confusion on his face as he pulls his jacket tighter around him.

“Is it cold in here, or is it just me?”

You bite your lip, trying to brush it off. “Uh, yeah, it’s probably the A/C. It’s been acting up lately.”

Megumi opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, a soft thud echoes from across the room. Your eyes snap to your bookshelf in the corner, where one of the books has fallen to the floor. Megumi glances over, his frown deepening.

“You didn’t tell me not to have fun,” Sukuna whispers inside your head.

Panic rises inside you as Megumi looks at you, suspicion now fully etched into his expression.

“Seriously, what’s going on? You’re acting weird. And what’s with the… weird vibes in here?”

Honestly, how are you supposed to explain any of this? ‘Sorry, there’s just a giant terrifying evil spirit attached to me for life because I put on that stupid ring we found in that abandoned house. Anyway, what’s been going on with you?’

You try to shrug it off, forcing a laugh that sounds far more strained than you’d like.

“It’s just been a stressful few days, that’s all.”

Megumi watches you closely, clearly not buying your excuse, but before he can push the issue further, you hear another sound—a chair creaking as though someone had just sat in it. You freeze, your eyes darting toward the kitchen. Sukuna isn’t going to stop, not until you command him to. But you can’t exactly do that with Megumi here, standing in front of you, eyeing you like a hawk.

You manage to let out another strained laugh, trying to dismiss the tension in the room, but the weight of Megumi’s gaze lingers as he assesses you.

He sighs, crossing his arms, “Well, whatever’s going on with you, you don’t need to keep shutting everyone out. We’re all worried about you.”

You feel a pang of guilt at his words. You don’t want to shut your friends out, but you feel like you have to. You can’t involve them in this mess, not when you still don’t fully understand it yourself. You nod quickly, avoiding his gaze.

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. I’ve just… needed some space. I’ve been going through some things. But I’m fine, really.”

Megumi watches you for a moment longer, before reaching into his bag and pulling out a stack of papers and handing them to you.

“Here, I brought you my notes. I figured you’d want to catch up on the classes you’ve been missing.”

You look back up at him, surprised by the gesture. It’s a simple thing, but knowing that he’s gone out of his way to make sure you don’t fall behind in class fills you with a bittersweet sense of gratitude. You take the notes from him with a forced smile.

“Thanks, Megumi. I really appreciate it.”

He nods, his expression softening just slightly, “No problem. And please, just… don’t make a habit of disappearing again, alright?”

You laugh, a bit more genuinely this time, “Yeah, I’ll try.”

The moment feels lighter, but it’s cut short when another loud thud echoes from the kitchen. You wince, your heart leaping into your throat as you glance in the direction of the sound. This time, a cabinet door has swung open on its own, one of the grocery bags you set down earlier toppling over as a result.

Megumi stiffens, his eyes narrowing as he turns to the kitchen, “What was that?”

You open your mouth to answer, but no words come out. You can’t rationally explain this. Sukuna is clearly testing your patience, trying to push the boundaries of your command. You shrug your shoulders, shaking your head.

“I don’t know. Probably… probably the wind.”

He whips his head around to face you, his features laced with incredulous confusion. “The wind? Inside?”

Your cheeks flush at his response, but you don’t know what else to say. You silently plead for Sukuna to stop, knowing that one more disruption could push Megumi to start asking questions you can’t answer.

Luckily, Megumi doesn’t press the issue any further. He turns, heading toward the door.

“Well, I’ve got to head out. Yuji’s car broke down and he needs me to go pick him up. Just… take care of yourself, okay? And if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

You nod, trying to keep your relief from showing. “Yeah, of course. Thanks again for the notes.”

Megumi lingers for a second longer, his eyes scanning the room as if he can sense something’s off but can’t quite put his finger on it. Then, with a final shake of his head, he exits your apartment.

As soon as you shut the door behind him, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Such a good little friend, isn’t he?”

Sukunas mocking tone makes you grip the papers in your hand tight, your patience fraying with every passing second. It’s been days of this, days of him tormenting you, pushing you to the edge, testing your limits. You’ve tried to brush it off, tried to pretend like it doesn’t bother you. But now, with Megumi’s concern and Sukuna’s mocking tone biting you, something inside you snaps.

You whirl around to face him, burning with frustration.

“Enough! I’ve had enough! You think this is funny? You think I’m just going to keep letting you mess with me?”

Your voice shakes with anger, and you see Sukuna’s smug face falter, replaced with one of genuine surprise. But then it’s gone, and a wide grin spreads across his face once more.

“There we go! Finally growing a spine, are we? Maybe you’re not as pathetic as I thought.”

His casual tone only makes you burn hotter. You step forward, fists clenching at your side.

“You’re bound to me. I have control over you, whether you like it or not. So stop—just stop messing with me!”

For a moment, the room falls silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Sukuna stares at you, his crimson eyes burning bright with amusement. But there’s something else in his stare, something darker. He steps closer to you, his towering form casting a long shadow over the room.

“Careful, girl. You may think you have control over me, but you’ll never own me.”

His voice makes you shiver, but you refuse to let him intimidate you any longer. You take a step of your own towards him. “I’m not asking, I’m telling you. Stop messing with me. Stop pushing things over, messing with the lights, the temperature. Stop.”

Sukuna’s grin fades, his eyes narrowing as he regards you. You can feel it now—the bond between you, the power you hold, even if you don’t fully understand it yet.

After a long, tense moment, Sukuna steps back, his expression becoming unreadable. He turns, heading toward the hallway.

“You can have it your way for now. But don’t forget, control is a fragile thing. It can slip away in an instant,” he drawls cryptically before disappearing around the corner.

You stand there, heart pounding in your chest after finally standing up to him for the first time. You’ve made him back down. But the relief you should feel… doesn’t come. Instead, a sense of dread curls in your stomach, because you know this isn’t over. Sukuna will always be there, lurking, waiting for the next chance to torment you.

You glance down at the ring on your finger, and it feels heavier than ever. You exhale, rubbing a hand over your face as exhaustion settles in. You’ve been holding yourself together as well as you can, but the cracks are starting to show.

With a heavy sigh, you make your way to the couch and sit down, your mind racing. You may have won this round, but the battle is far from over.

It'll never be over, a little voice inside your head reminds you.

You’re stuck with this for life.

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