#but like this I just feel really fucking tired

[mostly-imagines]

Motion Sickness

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason makes you cry after a fight

warnings: angst with comfort

“Jason—”

He waves you off immediately, “No, I’m not your problem, okay?”

Your arms drop, “You’re not a problem at all, that’s not what I’m saying—”

“Then what are you saying?” he challenges. 

You almost bite your tongue but then decide against it, “I’m saying you’re being an asshole right now just because I tried to help.”

He’s angry and you’re someplace in between desperate and tired, but you push on, hoping you’ll be able to solve this without an extended argument. To little avail though, apparently. 

A tense exhale from him, “I don’t need your help, I don’t know how I can make it any clearer.”

“It’s not about needing it—”

“No, it’s about wanting it. I don’t want your fucking help,” he snaps. “I’m grown, I can handle my problems myself.”

You drop your hands to your sides, “Then what am I doing here, Jason?”

“I don’t know!” You can literally see the regret sweep over his face but he lets the moment consume him and the words linger anyways. 

You know he doesn’t always think before he talks, especially when he’s mad. You’ve seen it plenty when he’s fighting with his family. This is the first time it’s shown up with you though, and while you know it’s not coming from a place of genuinity—it still really fucking stung. 

Far from being in your control, tears slip out, more at his tone than his words, and you remove your gaze in favor of the linoleum tiles. He says nothing as you start to cry, which only makes the heat of the moment worsen. 

“Okay,” You take a deep breath, pursing your lips. “You need to go away.”

There’s a long, hard moment of silence, but ultimately he doesn’t fight you on it, only exhales harshly and slams the door on his way out.

The resulting reverberation of the apartment has your shoulders shaking, tears falling onto your shirt.  

You and Jason don’t fight often but when you do it’s usually about insecurities and fears coming forward. He’d been having a bad night to start with and all you wanted to do was make him feel better but he wasn’t willing to talk to you or let you do anything for him. He gets selfishly selfless like that, but you know why.

You know him, in and out. You could’ve anticipated this—you should’ve. You should’ve approached the topic more sensitively. And it’s not his fault, his life has taught him that it’s safer to believe that other people don’t have his best interest. You know that. 

Yeah, you know him in and out, but he knows you in and out, too. He knows you’ve shown him nothing but kindness and generosity since the day you met and you’ve reinforced a thousand times how safe you are for him. But if he still can’t trust you to care about him, then what are you doing here?

You let yourself fall back onto the arm of the couch, huffing in defeat. 

It’s nearing two in the morning when Dick awakens, the bandages across his abdomen digging into his skin uncomfortably. He sits up, bedsheet pooling around his waist. The ache of the bruising pushes him towards his old bedroom door before he’s even fully coherent, narrowly missing shouldering the door frame as he passes through.

He’s still half asleep as he thumps down the staircase, cold hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweatshirt. He’s so out of it in his blind search for painkillers, that he nearly misses the large shadowed figure huddled up on the couch.

Dick stills, blinking warily.

“What’re you doing here?”

His younger brother says nothing, only continues to stew in the shadows, staring at the rug.

As his eyes adjust, Dick takes in his appearance: messy hair, tired eyes, only clad in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

He rubs his eyes, approaching with measured steps, “What happened?”

Jason remains silent for a long minute before grunting out, “Got in a fight.”

Dick nods slowly, shuffling forward a little more to sit on the far end of the couch. 

“What’d you do?”

Jason doesn’t have it in him to comment on how his brother immediately knew he was the issue. It just makes the entire thing hurt even worse. Instead, he tells the truth. 

“Be myself.”

Dick says nothing, 

When the silence persists, Jason elaborates, even though it’s the last thing he wants to admit to.

“I made her cry,” he says, voice below even a whisper. He hates it and he hates himself for leaving you when he knew he’d hurt you.

Dick nods, not saying anything. He’s definitely been there before, though he’s not nearly as volatile as Jason can be, so he can imagine how this likely played out. In any case, Jason has never responded well to being pushed to talk about his feelings so Dick lets him get there in his own time.

He’s half expecting to end up with no results at all, but Jason pipes up after a minute, voice broken.

“I don’t know what she wants me to do,” he rasps.

Dick takes a deep breath, adjusting his posture. “When girls are mad you give them space but when they’re sad you definitely don’t. Is she sad or mad?”

Jason exhales desperately.

“Both, I think.”

Dick nods, understanding.

“Then go home.”

Jason shakes his head, defeated. “She told me to leave. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“What did you say?”

He huffs, not wanting to bring the memory back up. “I basically told her to fuck off.”

“Yeah,” Dick drawls. “I wouldn’t let that simmer.”

Jason’s head snaps over to him. “She’ll break up with me?”

“No, I don’t—” Dick pauses, thinking over his words. “It’ll be fine. Just go home.”

Despite taking the long route on the way to the manor, Jason sped back home on his bike, now unwilling to leave you alone for another second longer than he had to. 

He creeps through the front door of your apartment, proud and only a little hurt that you’d remembered to lock it. 

The apartment’s mostly quiet, nothing but a lamp lighting up the front half. He can hear the shower running from where he stands, the waterfall noise awfully muffled from behind the closed bathroom door.

He bolts the door behind him, pushing forward towards the hallway. He approaches the bathroom door, noticing how there’s no light flooding out from underneath.

“Baby?” Jason calls it out quietly, like he’s scared to commit to alerting you of his presence.

He hears no response, but he knows you heard him. He knows you heard him in the same way that he knows you’re sitting on the shower floor, curled in on yourself under the sensory relief that the pouring water brings. He doesn’t know how, he just does.

So he leans against the door, listening closely, and calls out again, “Can I come in?”

There’s a solid ten seconds of silence before you respond, just barely audible over the cascade of water.

“Not right now.”

Your volume has him wincing, saddened and embarrassed that he’s the one that made you feel like this.

He reluctantly walks back to the bedroom with heavy shoulders, thudding his weight down on the mattress. He sits half folded over himself for the next ten minutes, thinking only of you, sitting alone in the shower with your thoughts.

He perks up considerably when he hears the water shut off, and after several long minutes, you emerge from the bathroom, towel wrapped around your middle.

He stands up when you enter the bedroom, hands stiff and awkward at his sides. You barely look at him, having trouble willing yourself to do more than glance. 

Your eyes fall downward, your lips pursing. You instinctually move to clutching the towel tighter around you, more than anything because you don’t know what to do with your hands. 

It makes his heart break to see you so out of comfort around him—because of him—so he gives you the benefit of privacy, turning around so you can get dressed. It kills him to do it, makes him feel like he’s just some stranger in your life rather than him. But he supposes that he deserves to feel like that right now. 

Whether or not you wanted him to turn around goes unsaid, he can only hear the quiet shuffling of you putting clothes on.

He waits until the movement stops, after he hears the squeak of the bed springs and the faint sound of the sheets being pulled up.

He turns around again with a silent sigh, taking in the sight of you laying in bed, back turned to him.  

He approaches slowly, stopping just before his knees hit the mattress. He notices quickly that the t-shirt you’d chosen was one of your own. He frowns.  

“Sweetheart. Can I touch you?” His voice is soft and low, like he’s trying to coax you back out to him.

It takes a long few moments, but you nod.

He sits down on the bed, still hesitant to go through with it.

“Will you turn over?”

An even longer pause and you’re flipping over to face him. You don’t make eye contact, only look blankly past him. Your blinks are heavy, and even in the dark, he can see that your eyes are still bloodshot. 

He brushes your hair back, his fingers feather-light against you, like he’s scared to touch you too harshly. Like he’s touching porcelain.

He lets you hold the silence for a while, reasoning with himself that you’ll talk when you’re ready.

You let it go on longer than he’d hoped, past the point of him knowing what to do with it. He’d hoped you’d yell at him. He can take that, he knows he can. He can see plainly that you’re thinking deeply and wants more than anything for you to say it, scream it if you have to. 

He knows he deserves it and he frankly would take anything over the silence. But then again, he doesn’t deserve the reprieve, does he? No, but he’s not strong enough to deny himself the chance to hear your voice.

“Say it,” he urges. “Please.”

Your fingers tap against the bed sheets for a moment before you sit up, almost defeated. 

You face him, taking a breath and relenting. “I don’t like that you said that to me.”

He nods, brow deep. “Me neither.”

Your shoulders sag at that, and you feel stuck in the moment. You feel guilty too but you don’t know if you should. He didn’t mean it, you know that, and they weren’t his words, really. But the snap of his voice when he’d said it and the look on his face—it made you feel terrible. It still does.

You look awkwardly to the left, feeling heavily spectated by him and so hyper-conscious of all of your movements. The downturn of your lips gives way to burning in your eyes and before you can do anything about it, tears are spilling out. 

Jason sees it immediately, his head lulling helplessly. 

“Oh, baby. Please don’t cry, please.”

But that only makes it worse, the tears falling faster and heavier at his soft tone.

He forgoes asking permission and pulls you directly into his chest, a firm hand on the back of your head. It’s what you needed though, to be close to him right now.

“I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry, baby—” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a rough kiss as he holds you tighter.

You shake your head, sniffling. “It’s okay, Jay.”

“No, it’s not.”

That sentiment lingers for several minutes, as he holds you cheek to chest and rubs soothing patterns into your hair.

It’s not long before you’re able to fully relax against him, his touch feeling nothing short of therapeutic. Your breathing eventually levels out back to baseline and your thoughts start to find peace amongst themselves.

When you’re ready, you sit back from him, letting him see your face again.                    

He visibly winces as he scans over the tears on your cheeks, how they’re starting to stain.

You’re still upset, a little, but not nearly as much as you’re sure your face is conveying. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him, wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

He shakes his head, “If I ever say something like that to you again, hit me. I’m serious.”

You drop your hand onto your lap, tilting your head at him with a serious look. “I’m not going to hit you—”

“Then break up with me. Don’t ever let somebody talk to you like that, especially not me.”

His voice is hard and you can tell the impact of his words have every bit of weight intended.

Your mouth closes and you waver unsure of where to go with that. Your gaze falls down to where your hands lie discarded on your lap and there’s a palpable shift to the air in the room.

“Hey.” He pushes your chin up to make you look at him, “Listen to me. You’re the love of my life. You hear me? I’m supposed to take care of you, make you happy. I don’t…I can’t talk to you like that. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Your eyes flicker back and forth across each others and you can see the genuine sincerity etched plainly across his face.

He processes the comprehension across your own before his jaw tenses for a moment and he adds, “Nobody’s gonna talk to you like that, much less me. Yes?” 

You start to nod slowly and he mirrors you until he’s convinced of your belief in the statement. 

He rubs calm circles into your thighs as you both sit with the conversation, the light sounds of each others breaths the only sound heard. This silence isn’t the same as it was before though, it’s safer, more comfortable. It’s familiar, if not weighted.  

“I love you,” you tell him quietly.

His eyebrows furrow like his heart was just shattered. 

“I love you too, baby. So much.”

🦟 if you don't reblog things i'm actively sending bad vibes your way 🦟 and maybe also a plague

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - one (j.yh)

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

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

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

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 17.9k

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

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

“Fuck,” You breathe, “hey,” 

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

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

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

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I guess.” 

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

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

“Thank you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” He checks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?” He tilts his face up to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” He hums and stays relaxed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” He laughs, “of course, yeah,” 

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

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

The tattoo on your chest feels warm beneath your blouse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s yours. 

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

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

“You didn’t?” His hand falls. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head, “No,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A soulmate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His shoulders relax just a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” You assure him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good,” You nod, “don’t worry,” 

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

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

“Am I good?” Yunho checks. 

Your eyes flick over him fast, “Yep,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He really is yours. 

It turns out that later means much later. 

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

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

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

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

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

A soft knock at the door makes your stomach lurch. 

You’re frozen. 

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

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

“I waited,” You manage. 

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

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

He nods, “Come to my room?” 

“Are you sure?” Your eyes widen. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the heavy door shuts behind you, you sigh. 

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

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

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

“It feels pretty real,” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You what?” Your eyebrows raise. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Completely,” He nods, “did yours?” 

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

“Does it feel,” He starts.

“Warm?” 

“Yes,” He nods, “and tender?” 

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

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

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

“You want to see it?” He surmises. 

“Only if you’re comfortable,” 

His lips quirk, “I’m comfortable,”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

He shakes his head, “Not before today,” 

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

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

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

“You feel that?” He asks, “Right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it always feel like that?” 

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

He smiles, “Your sister found her soulmate?” 

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

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

“Younger,” You say.  

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

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

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

Your heart quickens and you nod. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Your voice is thready. 

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

“Yes,” You agree, painfully quickly. 

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

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

You wonder what more will feel like. 

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

You nod. 

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

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

“You can feel that?” 

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

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

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

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

“Feel alright?” He murmurs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He feels so right, so essential under your touch. 

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

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

“Yunho,” You shiver. 

“Cold?” He gravitates a little closer. 

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

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

His lips are on yours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to slow down,” He manages. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Overwhelming,” You nod, exhaling softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You straighten up again, finding his eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your tight hands uncurl. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s yours. 

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

“This is real,” You murmur. 

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

“You’re mine,” 

“Yes,” He grins. 

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

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

“Together,” You nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is nice,” You smile. 

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

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

“It is,”

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

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

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

 “I had no idea,” 

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” You perk up, “Who?” 

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

You sigh, letting his softness calm you again. 

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

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

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

That wakes you up. 

Your eyebrows raise, “Stay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With me?” His eyebrows raise. 

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

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

“It is what it is,” 

“Are your parents soulmates?” He asks softly. 

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

You watch his eyes widen in surprise. 

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

“For status?” He surmises. 

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

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

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

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

“It could,” 

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

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

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

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

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

Your smile at his warm expression. 

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

Your throat constricts, tears threatening for a moment. 

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

“Very,”

“I’d like to meet her,” He smiles. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

“She’s funny,” He smirks. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Your eyes feel heavy. 

“Yeah,” He kisses your forehead. 

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

“Mhm,” He yawns too, “me too, jagi,” 

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

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

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

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

Nuzzled against his tattoo, you drift.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Naive is what it is,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long?” Seonghwa manages. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Yunho laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mouth feels dry. 

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

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

You both wait. 

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

Yunho nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” Yunho curses. 

You both slept straight through Yunho’s alarm. 

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

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

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

Did you already get up and get ready?

Your work bag is still here…

Not funny, girl, where are you?

Did you make it back last night? 

Can you answer me?? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seonghwa huffs a laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With some guy?” She stands. 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” You say again. 

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

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

“Iseul,” Your cheeks heat. 

She points at you, “I’m right!” 

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

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

“I can’t,” You press, “leave it,” 

“Why are you being so weird?” 

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

“I’m not letting this go,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” 

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

“Fine,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You miss him. 

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

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

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

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

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

So you’re as awake as I am? 

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

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

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

Nope - You tease back. 

Was she upset? - He asks. 

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

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

How was Seonghwa? - You tap out. 

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

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

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

That’s good - You send back. 

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

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

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

Why’s that? - You tease him. 

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

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

So who did she guess? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exactly - You reply. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your thighs press together - Yunho?

Yes, jagi?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you have headphones? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want me? - You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

I was tossing and turning. 

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

You send him another emoji, the blushing face. 

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

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

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

Wearing? 

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

I asked you first.

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

A heavy sigh passes through your lips. 

“And you?” 

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

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

Me too 

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

Me either - You confess. 

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

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

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

You message him one last thought - What about you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” You murmur in a whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s good, that’s so good,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Uh-huh,” You manage. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” He murmurs, “you okay?” 

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

He hums, a quiet, lazy laugh, “Ah,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, baby?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” 

“Are your headphones still in?” He asks

“No, but I can switch back,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hannieehaee]

Svt telling their s/o they’re tired of them? Angst to fluff pls

telling their s/o they're tired of them

content: established relationship, mentions of arguments, angst to fluff, fighting, making up, etc.

wc: 1706

a/n: i wrote this incredibly dramatic for no reason lol i hope u enjoy though!!

masterlist

seungcheol -

it'd be done in the heat of the moment. he wouldn't mean it, but he'd say it specifically with the intention of hurting you, which he'd realize in the moment but would regret the moment you walked away with a huff. he'd have to sit on it for a while ruminating on what happened. it'd take him a while to actually go to you to apologize due to his stubbornness, but he'd eventually realize how badly he fucked up when his messages began to go unanswered.

after a while, he'd literally just have to push his pride aside completely in order to apologize. he'd realize the error of his ways and be honest in the fact that he didn't mean it and was just being petty and vindictive. would understand if you needed some time apart or if he'd damaged your trust. he'd realize the error of his stubbornness after this incident.

jeonghan -

it'd be said in a moment where too many things are bothering him, just constantly jamming into his mind and adding more and more problems into his life and driving him insane. you'd interrupt him in one of these instances, causing him to snap at you and immediately regret it when your face fell, completely unexpecting of your sweet hannie to speak like that to you.

he'd drop whatever he was doing the moment he realized what he'd said and cry and coo at you as he apologized, insulting himself over and over about what a bad boyfriend he was being and how horrible he was for speaking to you like that. would encourage you to be mean to him in return, getting you to laugh at his insistence.

joshua -

it was said in a petty, bitter way. he wanted to chase you away for a bit, but not too terribly. this was enough to just get your lip to quiver a little, but he'd regret it immediately. whatever anger or frustration that was in him would leave him the moment the words left his mouth. he only said it so he could be left alone for a moment, but he didn't think he'd genuinely hurt your feelings.

you wouldn't really be able to react before he began apologizing, reassuring you that he was an idiot and could never be tired of you. he'd pout and whine and maybe make it into a lighthearted thing to avoid things escalating. would promise to make it up to you.

jun -

he'd be stammering apologies the moment the biting words left him. you wouldn't even get to react before he went to try and fail to explain himself. he'd know that if it were the other way around, he'd be heartbroken by his s/o telling him they're tired of him. because, really, how could he say that to you? he's not tired of you. he could never be! he wants you all the time, even if you're fighting.

he'd say all these things to you in the form of a ramble, literally unable to stop until you interrupt him. he'd be so innocently apologetic and regretful that it'd be impossible to not kiss and make up.

soonyoung -

he's been said to be kind of scary when angry, so this would be said in the heat of the moment. maybe you'd had a terrible argument and that was just the last thing he'd said, stubbornly wanting to get the last word in. he'd be too stubborn at first to allow himself to admit that he'd been petty and that he'd genuinely hurt you for no reason.

when it finally dawned on him, he'd grovel endlessly, already crying when he went to approach you to apologize. it'd be hard and it'd be painful for him to apologize, but he still would feel the need to do so. he's a sensitive guy, so he understands what it's like to be hurt by someone's words. would promise to never fight again, and specially to never deliberately try to hurt you through his petty words.

wonwoo -

it is very hard for me to imagine him saying something like this, but if he ever did, it'd have some context behind it. not just a mere 'i'm tired of you' but instead something like 'i'm tired of you doing/saying x thing'. he'd still hurt your feelings, but nowhere in his mind would he have thought that that'd be the effect of his words.

he'd be the type to sit you down and want to talk about it further. he would apologize and open a conversation about what he meant by his words and how he'd never say anything to deliberately hurt you. he'd also be genuinely sad at the thought of his words doing any type of damage to you.

jihoon -

he'd just mutter it under his breath without realizing, much less noticing that you heard him. you'd been insisting he takes a break and trying to get him out of his studio for a bit when he'd said it. he'd be so immersed in his work that he literally would not notice that you left with a huff. it'd only be until hours later when he noticed he wasn't getting your usual text messages throughout the day that he'd realize something was off.

coming home, that's when he would have the epiphany. the air would be cold and your mood would clearly match the atmosphere. he'd go to you with his tail between his legs, having to grovel and make lots of promises about how he'd never disregard and offend you like that. he'd take this as a lesson to himself.

seokmin -

nope sorry i just cannot imagine him doing this ever lol

mingyu -

the only way i imagine this happening is it he's dealing with an imaginable amount of stuff on his plate and he's already had a few people snapping at him already so he accidentally dished it out on you when you caught him just at the worst moment.

his reaction to what he said would depend on your own reaction. if you were angry and stormed off, he'd curse at himself and let you cool off on your own before apologizing. if you cried or looked hurt, he'd gruel and even go as far as getting on his knees to apologize, telling you that what he said was not aimed at you but it just came out bc you were closest and that he'd never mean to disrespect you like that.

minghao -

he's usually pretty zen and in touch with his emotions so him snapping at you and telling you he's tired of you would just be all the more dramatic. i don't think he'd ever say it with the intention of hurting you but more so because of built up frustration. he'd immediately realize his mistake, though and know he'd need to apologize as soon as possible.

if you walked off, he'd let you leave to cool off and sit you down later to formally communicate and apologize, but if you reacted more sad than mad, he'd stare at you agape at his own snarky comment before shaking himself out of it and hugging you, ensuring you he's not tired of you and that he was completely out of line.

seungkwan -

he's a very emotional person, and maybe sometimes that gets the best of him. he always treats all his loved ones with the biggest of affections, but just like anyone else, sometimes things get too much and might make him snap at the wrong people. or at least that's what he told himself in order to make himself better at the dejected look on your face when he suddenly snapped at you. you'd interrupted him as he tried to manage some work stuff, but the fault was all his.

he'd grovel on his own for a while, scared to face you because he'd never expected himself to snap at you like that and didn't know how to move forward. he knew he'd have to apologize to you, but he felt like he didn't deserve to speak to you until you decided it was time. however, he'd have to man up eventually and go to you. he'd approach you with his tail between his legs, mumbling apologies. when you heard him out and accepted his apology (after lots of hugs and groveling), he'd be so thankful.

vernon -

he's usually such a laid back person, but sometimes things just got too much and he'd find himself more stressed than usual. it would just be unfortunate that you'd catch him at the perfectly wrong time, earning a frustrated 'don't bother me right now, i'm tired of you' that'd have your face falling in a way he'd never seen before. when you walked away without saying anything, ignoring him when he tried to stop you, he'd know he fucked up.

he knew you needed time on your own, but he'd still try to be around you as much as he could throughout the day. he wouldn't be able to focus on anything else, looking to you like a sick puppy until you snapped at him and told him to just say whatever he wanted to say. that's when the stammered apologies would come in. he'd admit complete fault, telling you it wasnt your fault that stress got the better of him. you'd have a very productive conversation about it and make up within the day.

chan -

it'd happen so suddenly and unexpectedly he'd even shock himself in having said it. he can have a bit of an attitude sometimes, but he'd never actually say something so hurtful to you. your fights never involved any insults or purposely hurtful words. this would be a rare moment, shocking the two of you.

when you immediately stormed out, hurt and angry, he'd understand. he'd be too scared to deal with it all day, so he'd let you cool down on your own, but really it'd be only out of fear of you getting even angrier at him. he'd have to grow some balls in order to actually come to you and apologize. it'd be full of grueling and regret, with chan terrified he might've disrespected you too far for forgiveness.

[big-sis-milly]

You cautiously step into your big sister's room, lit only by the flash of her computer's monitor. The sound of whatever game she's playing muffled through her headphones. You can tell she's losing, she gets still when she's mad.

"What do you want."

Her voice is louder than you thought it would be. You swallow the weird feeling in your chest and tell her that you had a nightmare, and you can't sleep anymore.

"So? I already know you're a pussy and I don't care, just crawl into mom 'n dad's bed or whatever." She hasn't looked away from the screen.

You try to defend yourself, but you aren't entirely sure why you don't want to go to your parents room. It doesn't matter that you're just being stubborn at this point, you're not budging. Your big sister seems to be weighing her own laziness to your stupid little kid determination. You can see her scowling at her monitor.

"Fucking..." She mumbles under her breath. You heard it, but you're not gonna tell, this time. "Fine. I just gotta finish this game, get in the bed."

Gratified, you hop onto your sister's bed. It smells so much like her, you bite your tongue to barely catch the content little moan you were just about to make. You surround yourself in her scent, wordlessly watching the game for a while.

You're already nodding off by the time she's done, too tired to even look up at her. She sighs when you hear her turn in her seat to look at you. You feel yourself being moved as she scoops you up under your arms, pulling your small body into herself. You felt like a toy, both of you silently sharing and adding to the other's warmth, the veneer of annoyance and cold shoulders discarded for just this moment, if only to feel warm tonight, to feel close with someone, to sleep.

You realized that you loved your sister, that you really loved your sister right there and then. As you drift off to sleep, you find yourself hoping to god that she loves you back.

[queenk00k]

cupid's lead arrows // rafe cameron

Requested by anon

Request: Hi girl I love your writing 🫶🏻 Can you write about Rafe, who has been Reader’s best friend forever, but secretly has a crush on her? One day, Reader confesses that she’s dating someone, and Rafe does everything he can to break them up.

Summary: You finally get a boyfriend but something, or someone, seems intent on keeping you apart.

Word count: 1.8k

Includes: This is literally all angst sorry

Note: My first Outer Banks fic in over 4 years lol please be kind! I got a little carried away...this lends itself to a part 2, if anyone likes it.

It’s not always a walk in the park when you’re Rafe Cameron’s best friend.

You’ve been inseparable since the first day of high school when you got paired together for a semester long project. Study sessions in the library (well, you would study, and Rafe would flirt with the cute library monitor) turned into after school hangouts at Tannyhill, which turned into hosting parties and heading to college together.

Did you ever have a crush on your best friend? Well fuck, have you seen him?

Not only is he gorgeous but you got to experience a whole different side of Rafe that not everyone got to see, the sweet side – loyal, caring, and pretty soft behind the scenes.

You spent years pining after Rafe, silently and stoically of course, never wanting to ruin your friendship by letting him know how you felt. You figured it was for the best and besides, you had lived through enough of Rafe’s girlfriends to know you weren’t ever going to be his type.

You’ve seen each other’s highest highs and lowest lows which, unfortunately for you both, Rafe seemed to have more than his fair share of. Much to the disappointment of your parents and the shock of your friends, you stuck by Rafe’s side through his drug addiction and his drinking problems and were there to pick up the pieces after his father died. Rafe, in turn, had your back when you had blow up fights with your mother and comforted you when you had problems with your friends.

Now, two years out of college and with Rafe mostly sober, you didn’t think there was anything you two couldn’t handle, nothing you couldn’t face together, nothing that could ever come between you.

Until you started dating Parker.

Rafe seemed happy for you when you first told him, hugging you and telling you he was proud of you for “finally getting some.” He was nice to Parker (by Rafe’s standards, which really meant not going out of his way to intimidate the guy) when you brought him to the beach and introduced them.

But as the weeks went by, you noticed a subtle shift in Rafe’s behaviour. You kept telling yourself you were being paranoid, that there’s no way Rafe could have an issue with Parker. He told you he was happy for you, right? And unlike the last potential boyfriends, Rafe didn’t try to scare him off.

But something was off.

You noticed Rafe was falling back into old habits that scared you. He was drinking more, often double parked at parties, and either loud and belligerent or sulking on his own in a corner.

And then then the incidents began. At first you just thought it was shit luck, but then it just started to feel like the universe was conspiring against you and Parker.

Turns out Rafe was conspiring against you and Parker.

It started when Parker seemingly ghosted you on one of your Friday night dates, leaving you alone and upset at the wharf before Rafe picked you up. Parker swore he had car issues, both his front tires punctured, and you figured that was a reasonable excuse.

Then the night of the annual bonfire, a harmless game of ‘never have I ever’ turned sour when Rafe and Topper kept coming up with the most oddly specific scenarios. Each of them left Parker putting down his fingers, looking sheepishly over at you as your cheeks turned red from embarrassment before you got up and left the circle, Rafe raising a beer bottle to his lips as he watched you intently. He followed after you that night and you melted into his arms, naïvely assuming your best friend was comforting you without an ulterior motive.

And now the worst of all – Topper had cornered you as you were leaving the driving range to ask if you knew Parker was spending time with his ex, and you finally snapped.

“Where did you hear this, Topper? Who told you?”

And because Topper was, above all, really just spineless, you got the answer out of him straight away.

Rafe. At the scene of the crime, three times in a row. What a fucking coincidence.

So, you decided you’d had enough of this bullshit, of Rafe playing games with your relationship, and you drove over to his house, marched up to his front door and banged on it with your fist until he finally opened up.

“Y/N!” he said, looking genuinely excited to see you. “What are you doing here?”

You took a deep breath, willing yourself not to lose your shit just yet, not to get angry until you actually knew the truth.

“Do you like Parker? Do you want me to be with him?”

Rafe blinked at you, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion.

“What? I don’t-”

“Tell me the truth,” you cut in. “I want to hear you say it.”

Rafe stepped over the threshold and gently closed the door behind him, clearing his throat before he answered.

“No. I don’t, and I want you to break up with him,” he said, folding his arms.

You huffed out a humourless laugh.

“Right, well, that’s not going to happen. Thanks a lot,” you say, willing yourself not to cry as you turn around and walk away from your best friend.

“Y/N, please come back. I have my reasons!” Rafe raises his voice as he calls out to you.

“Why do you care so much? Is this some fake chivalrous ‘if I can’t have you, no one can’ bullshit? Just leave me alone, Rafe.” You say as you clamber down the front steps and start walking to your car.

“Because I love you, alright?!” Rafe shouts after you.

You stop, the righteous anger you were feeling only moments before threatening to dissipate into the humid night air. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply before turning around to face your best friend.

Rafe’s breathing heavily, running his hand over his head as if to erase what he just said.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his ring glinting in the moonlight as he chews on his thumb, looking pleadingly at you, willing you to say something, anything. The silence between you feels heavy as your mind races. He’s said it before of course, but it’s usually in jest, or after you help him with something. This feels different, and you know better than to assume it’s not.

“Rafe,” you say, fighting to keep your voice steady. “What are you doing?” You watch him warily as he takes a hesitant step towards you.

“I love you. I’m serious. More than best friends, more than anything we’ve been in the past. I love you and I…I can’t stand to see you with someone else. I can’t let it happen.”

“You have no right-”

“He’s not a good guy, y/n!” Rafe raises his voice again, making you flinch slightly. You scoff at his words, throwing him an incredulous glare.

“Like you can talk, Rafe. I know you – more than anyone else. You’re not exactly in a position to be telling me who’s good for me or not,” you snap.

Rafe huffs, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Yeah, you got me. I’m not perfect, fine, but I know you and I know you shouldn’t be with Parker. That’s why I-” Rafe stops abruptly, his mouth twisting.

You step closer to him, closing the gap between you. “That’s why you what, Rafe?” Your heart pounds and you’re sure you’re about to have your suspicions confirmed. When Rafe stands there, dumbstruck and silent, you answer for him.

“You’re the one who started that rumour about Parker and his ex, aren’t you?”

Rafe’s silence tells you everything you need to know. You shake your head, not quite believing that your best friend would try and sabotage your relationship like this.

“And the bonfire? That was on purpose, wasn’t it? You got some dirt on Parker and wanted me to know about it.”

Rafe winced. “Well, Topper helped with that one. But seriously, this is all for your own good. I’m trying to protect you!”

You hold your hand up. “Stop. Just stop. How could you do this? Why would you try and break us up like this, just because you’re jealous? Why can’t you just let me be happy? Not to mention, you’ve been hurting me, Rafe! You’re not just hurting Parker; you’re destroying me in the process.”

You’re crying now, feeling betrayed. You had barely noticed but it had started to rain, the droplets mixing with your tears to run mascara down your cheeks. Rafe has the audacity to look concerned and regretful, to move as if to hug you and you shake his arm off before jabbing your index finger into his chest.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Rafe. You had your chance! For years! Just because you’ve finally fucking woken up doesn’t mean you get to ruin my happiness. And now this bullshit about Parker’s family? That’s low, even for you,” you spit, the brief warmth you felt when Rafe told you he loved you now completely cold.

Rafe shook his head. “No, no, you don’t get it! That’s all true! They’re shady fucking people and God, that’s coming from a Cameron. You can’t get caught up in their mess,” he pleads.

“You must be out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m going to believe you now! Why should I?” you yell before spinning on your heel and stalking down the driveway to your car, being careful to not slip on the pavement.

“Y/N, wait!” Rafe calls and he catches up to you in two long strides, grabbing your wrist with his large hand. His white button-down shirt was almost transparent now and the rain was running in rivers off his nose as he looked down at you.

“Please,” he begs. “Come inside. Let me explain. I love you, y/n, please,” Rafe looks desperate, and you almost pity him before you snap back to reality and remember why you’re so angry.

“I’m going to my boyfriend’s house,” you snarl, tugging your wrist out of his grip. “And if you follow me Rafe, I swear to God, I will never speak to you again.”

With that, you yank open your car door and put the keys in the ignition with shaking hands.

“FUCK!”

As you pull away, you can hear Rafe yelling your name.

You don’t even look in the rearview mirror as you turn out of his street, tires squealing.

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for anon

Request: something with an orc and a female human? Something fantasy-based, maybe human owns a tavern? I'd be fine with whatever you thought worked though!

A/N: Sorry this is kind of late, life is hectic. Enjoy!

Kissing an orc

Orc x fem!reader || accidental exhibitionism, oral sex, groping

You are kneading the bread for the next day when the knock on the door startles you. “Your favorite orc is hereeeee,” your annoying naga helper sing-songs to you. You shush them in your way to the door, signaling them to stop or you’ll kill them. They chuckle and disappear to the front, a broom already on their hands. Good, at least they would stop being a little shit while they do the tavern cleaning.

You open the door and have to swallow a gasp. It doesn’t matter how many times you look at him, it always amazes you how fucking beautiful he is. All giant, towering over you, with his beautiful olive skin and big tusks framing his appetizing mouth. Good goddess you’d give all your gold to be able to kiss him at least once to know how that mouth would feel against yours.

“Hi- hi,” you stutter. You chastise yourself, trying to act composed, but suddenly your skin feels too hot and your breathing is pushing your boobs a bit too forward.

“What was all that about? Am I your favorite orc? Do you know more orcs?” He looks so confused and adorable you want to pinch his cheek, but also kiss him senseless.

You look at him completely dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

“Yes?” You aren’t sure if it’s a question or an affirmative.

You take a deep breath, thinking about all the possible possibilities of what you are about to do, but you are so fucking tired. You want to know, and if it goes wrong, you can always change hunters and find a new person or monster to bring you fresh meat for your tavern every day, right? Yeah. You can probably find somebody else, but you can’t wait more time to know how do his lips taste.

You stare into his beautiful dark eyes and answer truthfully: “Of course you are my favorite orc, I’ve been trying to ask you out for months.”

“What?” He looks so surprised you want to laugh, but the nervousness in your stomach prevents you to do anything. “But, but… I asked and you didn’t… you didn’t…” He takes a deep breath and starts again. “I asked you to meet me for breakfast and you said you had to work. I asked you if you wanted coffee and said you had to work.” As soon as he says that, you can remember a few other times he asked you for coffee or lunch or some snack and you always refused because you thought he did it just because he was nice, not because he was interested. Were you really that obvious?

You look at him, your face mirroring his surprise. “Oh.”

“You are just too cute for your own good, damn it.” He doesn’t wait for your answer before his hands are cupping your face and he’s kissing you breathless. “We could have been doing this for a long time if you just said so,” he mumbles against your lips, kissing you again.

Kissing an orc is even better than you imagined. His tusks frame your mouth perfectly and his lips are way softer than expected. He is perfect and you can’t even comprehend what he’s doing when he crouches and grabs your ass, pulling you up and walking inside, the deer he caught today left there, forgotten.

He moves around the kitchen like he owns it, and before you know it your ass is over a table and he’s kissing your neck, making goosebumps erupt on your skin. His hands are everywhere, tracing the edge of your corset, caressing your back and groping your ass over the skirt of your dress. His hands fit under the skirt and he goes up and up until his hand is over your center and you are panting, his mouth hot against your pulse point as he touches your vulnerable place.

He caresses your legs over your underpants and asks: “Can I?” His lips move against your neck when he talks and you have to suppress a tremor.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant, already pulling the skirt of your dress up to your waist as he pulls down your underpants, kissing your leg along the way.

“Have somebody ever…?” He doesn’t have to say it, you know what he means. You aren’t a blushing virgin, but you never had enough trust in anyone to let them… kiss you there.

“I never… Nobody ever… Not there,” you try to explain.

He gets it instantly, kissing your mouth until your brain is far away from your worries and his dexterous fingers find your pearl, flickering it and making you bite down on his lip. He groans and you giggle against his lips, he kneels on the floor in front of you and goes for it.

You moan very loudly as inexplicably pleasure breaks through your body, making you throw your head back and arch your back in an arch that leaves your boobs about to spill over your corset. You are sure it looks sinful from his position, but when you open your eyes the only thing you see is his face still buried between your legs, your thighs pressing against the sides of his head so strongly you are worried you are going to hurt him, but his pleased sounds are good enough to make you groan again.

You cover your mouth to avoid screaming his name as his tongue does wonders around your lucky pearl, his tusks framing your pussy in a way that leaves you breathless and ready for more at the same time. It’s wonderful and marvelous and all the adjectives you can’t even comprehend as he sucks and licks your hot center, dragging all kinds of sounds out of you.

You’ve never felt that kind of pleasure, and as it starts to peak, you don’t know what to do with all of it. You grab his hair and pull, making him grunt as his fingers dig into your hips where he’s holding you still. You are messing up his braid, but you can’t care about it as he keeps licking and fucking you with his tongue. It’s the most intense experience of your life and when the pleasure hits its peak, you have to bite down on your hand to avoid the cry that was about to leave your mouth.

He licks you through it, until your legs are trembling around his head and your pussy is pulsating in time with your heartbeat. He doesn’t stop there, he keeps milking all the pleasure out of you with such frantic need that you can’t do anything but match it. When your second orgasm hits you, the first one was still there, joining in the middle in the biggest wave of pleasure you’ve ever felt.

He kisses your pussy and your highs, not trying to make you untie your legs from around his head. His tender caresses are a contrast with the frantic devouring he just did, but it’s the best kind of contrast. You are still breathing hard and he’s still on the floor in front of you licking you clean when the door to the tavern opens with a screech.

“Dude! That’s where I make the bread!” The annoying naga screams as he opens the door just in time to see him kissing your pussy one last time.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ know no better, m. barzal. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: with your work responsibilities taking you away from long island, you and mat haven't had much time to blow off some steam. his friends, however, are tired of being on the receiving end of mat's "steam" and enlist you to help.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: about half way through the nnn series! i am a diva!mat truther so enjoy. day five of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, oral (male receiving), mat’s a lil grump.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: mathew barzal x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.4k.

You looked up from your laptop, your eyes scanning the crowded airport lounge. The clacking of keyboards and murmur of distant conversations created a familiar backdrop to your focused silence. You sighed, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you awaited your flight's boarding call. Your phone buzzed, and you picked it up, expecting to see a message from work reminding you of the deadlines that had kept you in Boston for nearly a month. Instead, you found a text from Ethan Bear.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. You hadn't spoken to Ethan in ages, not since the last time you and Mat had seen him over the summer. 

The message was simple: "Hey, noticed Mat's been on edge lately?" 

You read it again, a hint of confusion creasing your forehead. Of course, you had noticed. Mat's mood swings were like the tides, but you had just chalked it up to the pressure of his season and your demanding work schedule pushing distance between the two of you. 

You typed back, "He makes it hard not to lol he's prob just stressed with the season. Why?"

Ethan's response was swift and to the point. "It's that dumb No Nut November bet. He's losing his shit like a little bitch. Can you fix him?" 

You couldn't help but laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. Mat, your six-foot hockey player of a boyfriend, reduced to a grumpy mess over a bet? It was almost endearing in its ridiculousness. But Ethan's concern was clear, and you knew you couldn't ignore it. 

You replied, "I'll see what I can do," with a winking emoji, feeling less than guilty for the amusement that bubbled up inside you.

As you boarded the plane, you couldn't shake the image of Mat, all six feet of brooding masculinity, brought to his knees by his own stubbornness. You chuckled to yourself, imagining the look on his face when you told him you knew about the bet. The flight back to Long Island was a blur of work emails and half-hearted attempts at relaxing, your mind racing with ideas to tease him into dropping this absurd challenge.

When you finally stepped into your apartment, the tension hit you like a wall. Mat's heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, and you could hear him muttering under his breath. You set down your bag and called out, "Honey, I'm home!" with a playful lilt in your voice.

Mat appeared around the corner, his eyes flashing with a mix of relief and annoyance. "Fucking finally," he grumbled, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly in an attempt to suppress a smile.

You rolled your eyes, your amusement clear. "What crawled up your ass?" You stepped closer to him, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Mat sighed, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. "You wouldn't understand."

You stepped closer, your curiosity piqued. "Try me."

Mat rolled his eyes, his frustration palpable. "It's just this stupid bet with the guys. I can't believe how much it's messing with my head."

Your smile grew. "Oh, the No Nut November bet? That's what's got you all worked up?" You couldn't resist poking the bear. "You know you can just tell them you can't do it, right?"

Mat's jaw clenched, and he glared at you. "It's not that simple. My pride's on the line."

You chuckled, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "Okay, tough guy," you said, your voice gentle and teasing. "But if it's really bothering you, maybe you should just, I don't know, not do it?"

Mat's eyes searched yours for a moment, and you could see the conflict in his gaze. He was torn between his pride and his desire to end the torment. You decided to take matters into your own hands. You leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "I have an idea," you murmured against his skin. "How about I help you relieve some of that tension?"

His eyes widened, and you knew you had his attention. "How?" he asked, his voice gruff with hope.

You stepped closer, your hands sliding down to his chest, your thumbs tracing the firm muscles beneath his shirt. "How about I give you a little something to take your mind off of it?" you suggested, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. You saw the spark of interest in his eyes and knew you had him in your grasp.

Mat's expression softened slightly, his eyes flickering with curiosity and a hint of desperation. "What are you thinking?" he asked, his tone cautious.

You smirked. "I could give you a reason to lose the bet?" you offered, your voice laced with playful challenge. You watched as the realization dawned on him, and his eyes grew dark with need.

"Did someone set you up to this?" he asked, his voice thick with suspicion, trying to hide his growing excitement.

"Let's just say I have my ways of finding things out," you replied with a wink. You could feel the tension in the room start to ease as Mat's curiosity took over.

Mat looked at you skeptically. "Alright. But if you're just messing with me..."

You giggled, standing on your tiptoe to whisper in his ear, "I'm not messing with you, baby." Your breath was warm and sweet, sending a shiver down his spine. "I want to help."

Mat stared at you for a moment, trying to gauge your seriousness. He was desperate for relief, and the thought of losing the bet was becoming increasingly more appealing by the second. With a huff, he stepped back, his arms crossing over his broad chest. "Okay, fine. What do you have in mind?"

You took a step closer, your eyes never leaving his. "Well, I was thinking..." you trailed off, your hands moving to the hem of his shirt, "maybe I could help you relax." You began to lift his shirt, your hands gliding over his abs, your manicured nails lightly scraping against his skin. "You know, just a little something to take the edge off."

Mat's resolve was crumbling. The feel of your hands on him was too tempting to resist. He let out a gruff chuckle, trying to maintain his tough exterior. "You're really going to do this?"

Your smile grew mischievous as you continued to lift his shirt, exposing his toned stomach. "Mmhmm," you hummed, your eyes flicking up to meet his. "I think it's only fair that if you're going to be a grumpy mess, I get to enjoy the perks of helping you out."

Mat's arms fell to his sides, his eyes locked on yours as you continued to explore his torso with your fingertips. "And what perks would those be?" he asked, his voice low and gruff with anticipation.

Your smile was sly. "Well," you said, your thumbs grazing the waistband of his sweatpants, "I was thinking I could give you a nice, long, slow release."

Mat's eyes darkened, and he took a sharp intake of breath. "Fuck it," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned in, capturing your mouth in a fiery kiss that sent shockwaves through your body. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you gave in to the passion you had been craving for weeks.

The two of you stumbled into the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind you. You pushed him down onto the bed, your body straddling him. You could feel his heart racing under you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You took a moment to appreciate the sight of him, his muscles taut and his eyes filled with a desperate need that made your own pulse quicken.

Mat's hands found the zipper of your jacket, his fingers fumbling with the fabric as he tried to get it off of you. You laughed and helped him, shrugging out of the jacket and tossing it aside. You leaned in again, your mouth tracing a line of kisses down his neck and chest, feeling his body respond to your touch. His breathing grew ragged, and you knew you had him exactly where you wanted him.

As you kissed down his body, you felt the tension in Mat's muscles start to unwind. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and you knew that you were winning the battle against his pride. With a knowing smile, you began to undo the drawstring of his shorts, your eyes focused on his.

"Missed this pretty, perfect dick," you murmured against the fabric of Mat's shorts, your voice muffled and playful. Mat's body tensed in anticipation as you slowly pulled them down, revealing him to your gaze. You took a moment to admire him, your eyes sparkling with a mix of humor and desire.

Mat groaned, his hands gripping the bed sheets. "You're evil, you know that?"

Your eyes gleamed with victory. "Only when it's for your own good," you teased, your fingertips brushing against his arousal. You watched his reaction, his eyes rolling back slightly, raven hair beautifully contrasting the crisp white sheets.

Mat's hand reached up to tug at your hair, urging you closer. "Just do it," he begged, his voice a mix of frustration and need.

You chuckled, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "Pushy," you said, your voice low and soothing. You leaned down, your warm breath fanning across his skin. Mat shivered as you pressed a kiss to the tip, your lips curling into a smug smile at his gasp. You took your time, teasing him with feather-light kisses and gentle strokes, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock.

Mat's eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth grinding together. "Baby," he ground out, his voice a desperate plea. You conceded and took him into your mouth, your movements slow and deliberate, savoring his taste and the sound of his moans. His hips bucked upwards, and you held him down with a firm hand, keeping the pace at a torturous crawl.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, watching the myriad of emotions playing across his face: surprise, pleasure, and a hint of embarrassment at his loss of control. You took him deeper, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked gently, and he swore, his hands fisting in the sheets. The salty tang of his sweat mingled with the faint scent of his cologne, and you felt a thrill of power knowing you could bring this strong, confident man to the brink of madness with just your mouth.

Mat's thighs tensed beneath you as you increased your pace, your hand pumping in time with your mouth. His breath grew ragged, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. You took him deeper still, your throat tightening around him, the sensation of his impending climax thrumming through your body.

"Shit," Mat groaned, his voice tight with need. "C’mon, babe, I can't..."

You released him slowly. "You can't what, baby?" you whispered, your voice like velvet against his sensitive skin.

His eyes flew open, and he stared at you, desperation warring with the need to maintain his pride. "I'm gonna come, baby," he warned, his voice strained.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes gleaming. "Mmm, I know," you said, your voice a sweet taunt. With a devilish smile you held his gaze as you stuck your tongue out, a line of saliva connecting your mouth to his glistening cock. Mat's hips jerked upwards involuntarily, his eyes widening with shock and pleasure.

"You're gonna lose that bet," you whispered, your breath warm against his sensitive skin. Mat's jaw clenched, and he nodded, the fight draining out of him. His hand reached for you, guiding you back down to him. "Good boy," you murmured, your mouth enveloping him again.

Mat's hips began to thrust slightly, his movements growing more urgent. You felt a rush of wetness between your legs, your own desire spiking at the sound of his desperate moans. You tightened your grip, your tongue swiping against the underside of his shaft. His hips bucked harder. With one last, deep suck, you felt him pulse in your mouth, the warmth of his release flooding your mouth.

Mat's body went rigid as he came, his breath hitching in his throat. You swallowed, your eyes never leaving his. You licked your lips, savoring the taste of him, and gave his cock one last gentle kiss before sitting back on your heels. You watched him, his chest heaving and eyes glazed over with pleasure.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by your ragged breathing. Then Mat's face contorted into a mix of frustration and relief. "Fuck," he muttered, collapsing back onto the bed. "How bad was I?"

You grinned, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Oh, you were pretty bad," you teased, your voice light and playful. "Ethan texted me about it. Said you were being a little bitch."

Mat's face reddened as he buried his face in a pillow, muffling his groan of embarrassment. You couldn't help but laugh, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "It's okay," you said, your voice gentle. "You're my little bitch."

Mat threw the pillow at you, his laughter joining yours. "Fuck off," he said, his voice muffled by the fabric.

You caught the pillow and tossed it aside, your smile widening. "It's all love, baby," you said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "But seriously, you okay?"

Mat took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good." He sat up, running a hand through his hair. "I just didn't know it would get to me like this."

Your expression softened, and you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over the stubble that had started to form. "No more dumb bets?" you asked, your voice a gentle reprimand.

Mat sighed, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of vulnerability. "No more dumb bets," he agreed, his voice gruff. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. "I'm sorry for being such an asshole."

Your smile was warm, your thumb continuing to stroke his cheek. "You should probably apologize to Ethan. Whatever you did to him, it's gotta be bad if he's asking for my help."

Mat chuckled, his irritation fading. "I'll text him later, tell him you talked some sense into me." He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. "Thank you, baby." He kissed you, the affection in his touch making your heart flutter.

[reshinless]

hi!!! i hope ur doing well>< can u do kinich with a shy s/o but get reaaally freaky in bed?

art creds: @ sumi_noth on x

warnings: p in v sex, anal penetration, afab!reader (no specified gender), consent king kinich, freaky ass reader, handcuff usage, blindfold usage, dirty talk kind of, but mostly praise, oral(?, eating you out),

he didn't expect your interests to be... different from your actions, or at least in public. your shy grasps on his arm if ever you were anxious, or the habit of standing in front of you to intimidate

or the flushed expression that danced across your cheeks when he complimented you. it could be the arm that grasped your waist when he knew you were uncomfortable.

well, whatever it was, it was cute in its own way.

but looking at you and comparing to then—are you really the same person...? maybe you have a secret twin!

"n- nngh! kin— pleasef- I wan' it s'bad!" you whined, feeling him strike your insides for the umpteenth time. he really didn't mind but he could see how shaky your legs were.

"y'sure? you're trembling, baby." "mmn, need more, please?"

he simply tilted his head, you looked tired. he doesn't care too much about himself since his stamina sustains for very long. but yours didn't.

he swore this little thing of yours lasted a week each month. always telling him how bad you needed him with those pleading eyes. he couldn't say no, that'd be mean!

"whatever you want, sweetheart."

he'd give you the world if possible, but he cares for your safety, so he does end up not going through with your feralness in bed. no matter how cute your whining and begging might be- he doesn't want to take advantage of the fact that you want all of him more than just seven rounds.

one time you asked him to cuff you to the bed, and he asked more than just five times. you.. want him to use his elemental skill to tie you to the bed post? is that really safe?

well, he wouldn't complain too much, pulling on the vine line like a leash if he just decided on cuffing them behind you, or grasping your hair while you take him from behind.

as long as you're okay with it ('till he notices you're visibly tired). he learns to know your limits as well, no more how freaky you are. cause he isn't with you for the sake of sex, but for you yourself.

these moments with you were just a bonus. and in which he very much treasured. oh well, back to the blurb of him slamming you from behind.

he likes positions where he sees your face better. the one he usually sees hiding in the strands of your hair, or in the softness of your palms. he promises he doesn't have a corruption kink or whatever but damn he loved the way your expression would distort to something so naughty. fuck, he needed this as much as you did.

the sounds he long sought after for back when you both weren't even together yet, he didn't want to admit- but he did fantasize this. how the lewd mewls would spill like a river from the beauty and softness of your mouth.

he couldn't help but groan right into the shell of your ear. instinctively his mouth moves, to praise you of course.

"doin' s'fuckin well for me sweetheart, just keep taking me in like that yeah?"

you could feel yourself clench at the very end of his sentence. fuck you didn't know praise could feel this good, his movements matched with the quick, lusty grunts he let out.

even when he placed the blindfold onto your pretty head. he missed your pretty eyes, the way they'd look at him with a pleading look. he could barely see how your eyebrows furrowed.

that's alright, he liked how you seemed so vulnerable, not knowing where to place your hands, and you can't predict what he'd do, or where his touch would land next (which was your entrance)

placing his lips onto the soft folds, licking you up and down with tease. hearing you moan and sob, asking him to stop edging and get to the point, but he doesn't really like when you're being a little bratty.

"take what i give you, or i'll leave you like this, 'kay?"

and you couldn't do anything but nod. his cold words sent shivers down your spine, combined with the kitty licks to your clit, the coldness of his ungloved palms that spread your legs apart, squeezing them every now and then.

really loves the way you taste though, loves how addicting it can get. you're the only drug he'd ever take.

once he's done "punishing" you, he goes right back to being the sloppy eater he is. his mouth basically attached itself to your soppy entrance.

doesn't matter if you're cumming or not—he laps everything up like a homeless man who's got food for the first time in forever.

he doesn't know what it is- maybe it's the scent, or is it truly the taste? maybe it could be the way it looks? or maybe how it feels? he doesn't get why he wants your essence so bad, but whatever magic it has he hopes it'll last him lifetimes (or at least last you a good orgasm)

overall is just "whatever you want, my love" and makes sure you get the best out of it! :)

[sonotcopingatall]

vacation gone wrong

sana x fem!reader

synopsis: you and sana, workaholic doctors, go on a vacation for a week. no phones, no surgeries, just the two of you. what could go wrong?

wc: 2.7k

warnings: i’d say none. it’s just really fluffy with chaos lol

it was supposed to be the perfect anniversary getaway.

sana, your brilliant and often frustratingly busy cardiothoracic surgeon wife, had been working her ass off for months. saving lives, performing surgeries, managing a department full of patients - she was damn good at it. but even she knew she needed a break. so, you’d both agreed: a week in a cozy, secluded cabin by a quiet lake. no phones, no surgeries, just you two, and maybe some wine and cuddling. a fucking dream, right?

you’d been married for five years now, which felt both like a lifetime and like it had all happened yesterday. both of you were workaholics, driven by the same damn passion for helping others. but this? this was about you two. about the break you both desperately needed.

but of course, the universe had other plans.

it started innocently enough. you and sana were driving through the winding mountain roads, music playing low in the background. you were laughing about something dumb - the kind of stupid, inside joke only long-term couples could understand. sana’s hand was resting on the gearshift, and you kept sneaking glances at her because, let’s be real, she was hot as hell, even after five years.

“can you believe we’ve been married for five years?” you ask, your voice dripping with affection.

sana smirks, eyes soft. “feels like just yesterday we were sitting in that little coffee shop, bitching about how insane our schedules were.”

you chuckle. “i remember you telling me you’d never have time for a relationship.”

“did i?” she laughs, glancing over at you, her eyes glinting mischievously. “i must’ve been lying.”

“damn right you were.” you poke her shoulder playfully, but just as you do, a sudden, bone-shaking screech fills the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of metal crunching. the car jerks to the side.

“hold on!” sana yells, her voice suddenly sharp and focused. she yanks the wheel to avoid a head-on collision with an out-of-control truck, its tire blown, veering into your lane.

your heart slams in your chest as sana wrestles with the wheel, your stomach flipping as the truck skids past. you blink, trying to regain your bearings, your pulse hammering.

“you good?” sana asks, voice tight, eyes scanning you. her hands are already checking the dashboard, her medical mind clicking into high gear.

you nod, trying to calm the hell down. “yeah, i’m fine. are you?”

“i’m good,” she mutters, still scanning the road. “i’m pulling over to check on them.”

you open your mouth to protest, to remind her that this was supposed to be vacation, but she’s already out of the car, her white coat flapping as she rushes to the truck. you can’t help but roll your eyes. “sana, seriously?”

you follow her anyway, because what else are you going do? you’re both doctors. you’ve seen your fair share of chaos. but when you see the truck driver, an elderly man sitting in his seat, looking a little dazed but otherwise fine, your worry shifts to something else entirely: a motorcycle zooming towards you from behind, clearly out of control.

you spin around, your stomach dropping. “sana! get down!”

but it’s too late. the bike rider is coming in too fast, and before you can even think, the rider crashes into a tree just a few feet from where sana is kneeling by the truck driver.

fuck.

sana’s on her feet before you can blink, already running toward the downed rider, her doctor instincts kicking in. you follow her, your own heart in your throat, your mind racing. the woman on the bike is unconscious but breathing, and sana’s hands are all business, checking for any injuries.

you try not to stare at her, but goddamn, you’re impressed. it’s always hot when she’s in “doctor mode,” but watching her save people like this? it’s next-level.

the next few hours blur together. you both take care of the elderly truck driver, call for an ambulance, and tend to the motorcycle rider, who thankfully wakes up, grumbling about how she’s going to be “so sore tomorrow.” you’re just glad she’s alive. by the time the paramedics arrive, you’re both covered in dirt and leaves, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

you climb back into the car, still trying to catch your breath. “do you think we’ll actually make it to the cabin this time, or is that asking too much?”

sana glances at you, shaking her head and smirking. “you really think this is it? the universe’s done with us? babe, we’re not even close to being done yet.”

you laugh, but you both know she’s right. you’ve barely started the damn vacation and already the universe is giving you a full course of bullshit. but, as you glance over at her - tired but unshaken, a little dirt streaked across her cheek, but still radiant - you feel a surge of fondness. maybe this is it. maybe it’s not about the vacation. it’s about surviving this shitshow together.

the next day, after a restless night full of nightmares and whispered reassurances from your wife, you start the drive again. you’re both cautiously optimistic as you cruise through a forested section of the road, sunlight flickering through the trees.

but of course, just as you round a bend, there’s a loud cracking sound. a deer bolts out of the trees, eyes wide with terror, running straight into your path.

“sana, fucking stop!” you shout as she slams on the brakes, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as the car skids across the gravel. the deer bounds away, a blur of brown and panic. the car comes to a stop, just barely missing it.

you both exhale like you’ve been holding your breath the entire time. “okay, okay, that’s it,” you mutter, hands trembling. “i think we should just go home.”

“no.” sana’s tone is firm, eyes steely, even though you know she’s just as rattled as you are. “we’re fine. we’ve got this.”

you both know damn well that you’re far from fine, but you also know that neither of you will let this stop you.

by day three, the frustration has started to settle in. another near-miss, another car accident. it’s getting fucking ridiculous. you’ve almost come to terms with the fact that this vacation is cursed when another damn van suddenly swerves into your lane, sliding toward you at a terrifying speed.

“sana!” you scream, but you know she’s already on it. the car swerves, just barely missing the van, the side mirror of the van grazing your bumper. a few seconds later, the van skids into a ditch.

another. fucking. near-miss. you’ve both barely processed it when you pull over once more.

“okay, okay,” you mutter, voice a little raw. “maybe we’re just not supposed to have a vacation, huh?”

sana turns to you, her expression softening despite the exhaustion in her eyes. “maybe we’re just meant to be together. no matter what.”

she’s right. no matter how many times life throws a curveball, you two always come back to each other. and honestly? you wouldn’t have it any other way.

finally, on the fifth day, you both make it to the cabin. you’re bruised, battered, but somehow, more in love than ever. you’ve survived every crash, every disaster, because you had each other. the cabin door slams shut behind you, cutting off the chaos of the world.

and as you sit on the porch that evening, staring out at the peaceful lake, you feel the weight of the world finally lift. the chaos is over. for now, anyway.

“five years,” you murmur, your hand in hers as you both look up at the stars.

“five more, and five after that,” she whispers, her voice like a promise.

“maybe ten,” you grin, nudging her shoulder.

the universe can keep throwing bullshit your way, but you’ve got this. together. and that’s all that matters.

bonus scene: dinner at the lakeside restaurant

after what felt like an eternity of mishaps, you and sana finally settled into a quiet dinner at a lakeside restaurant. the space was warm, intimate, with soft lighting and the hum of conversation filling the air. you could almost forget the chaos of the past few days - the truck, the motorcycle, the deer, and everything in between. tonight, it was just the two of you, enjoying a peaceful moment.

“here’s to surviving the chaos,” you joke, raising your glass of wine and giving sana a playful grin.

she chuckles, her fingers brushing yours across the table. “yeah, but i’m not tempting fate again. let’s just enjoy this for once.”

you laugh, feeling the weight of everything you’ve been through lighten, even just a little. for a moment, it feels like the world outside doesn’t exist - you’re safe here, tucked away from the madness. but then, as if the universe has other plans, everything changes.

a loud, panicked shout breaks the calm: “someone help! my wife— she’s going into labor! oh, god, please, somebody help!”

without hesitation, you both stand up, instinctively moving toward the commotion. a man is pacing frantically between tables, his hands running through his hair as his wife bends over, clutching her stomach in pain. her face is pale, her breaths coming in shallow, jagged gasps.

without a word, you and sana exchange a look, both of you already in motion. there’s no hesitation in the way you move, no panic. you’ve been through this before - you know exactly what to do.

you approach the husband first, your voice calm but firm. “i’m a doctor. we’re going to help her. i need you to take a deep breath. you panicking isn’t going to help her right now.”

he nods shakily, his eyes wide with fear, but he tries to steady himself. “she wasn’t due yet. she’s only 28 weeks. i don’t know what to do.”

“you don’t have to do anything right now. we’ve got this,” you assure him, your hand on his shoulder for a moment before you move toward the woman. “ma’am, i’m here to help. my name’s dr. y/n, and this is dr. sana. we’re going to keep you and your baby safe, okay?”

she nods but doesn’t speak, her breath quickening. another contraction hits, and she cries out, her grip tightening around the edge of the table. her husband’s face is stricken with helplessness, but sana is already beside the woman, her hands moving quickly, checking her pulse, assessing her condition.

“ma’am, i need you to focus on your breathing,” sana says gently, her tone soothing but authoritative. “in through your nose, out through your mouth. let’s take it slow. you’re doing great.”

the woman nods, trying to follow the rhythm. her face is twisted in pain, and her hands are gripping the table, knuckles white. you step in, kneeling beside her, offering her a soft smile to help keep her calm.

“you’re doing great,” you repeat, squeezing her hand. “just breathe with me. in through your nose, out through your mouth. focus on me.”

her eyes meet yours, full of fear. “please, is my baby going to be okay?”

“yes, we’re going to make sure you both are okay,” you reassure her, glancing up at sana, who’s already keeping an eye on the woman’s vitals. her expression is controlled, but you can see the urgency in her movements.

the husband steps forward, his face twisted with anxiety. “i don’t understand… she wasn’t supposed to go into labor yet! what do we do?”

sana glances up at you, her eyes narrowing in thought. “we don’t have iv fluids here, but there’s a first aid kit in the car. i’ll grab it. it’s not much, but it could help stabilize her for now.”

the husband’s eyes widen with disbelief. “a first aid kit? what good is that going to do? my wife’s in labor early!”

sana remains calm, her voice reassuring. “it’s not ideal, but it’s what we’ve got. i’ll be right back. stay with her.”

you nod at her, giving her hand a quick squeeze. “we’ve got this,” you say to the husband, keeping your tone firm but supportive. “we just need to keep her calm, keep her breathing.”

sana rushes out the door, and you stay by the woman’s side, speaking gently as another contraction hits. “you’re doing great. just breathe with me. in, out. keep your focus. we’re here with you.”

her grip on the table loosens slightly as she follows your instructions. she winces with the pain but nods. “it hurts so much…”

“i know, but you’re strong,” you reply, your voice steady. “you’re doing everything right. stay with me.”

the husband is still holding her hand, his own face tight with fear. “we’re going to be okay,” he mutters under his breath, trying to steady himself as much as he’s trying to steady his wife.

minutes pass, and the tension in the air is suffocating. the restaurant has gone silent, all eyes on the small drama unfolding in the corner. you glance toward the door, willing the paramedics to arrive. “the paramedics are coming,” you murmur to the woman. “they’ll be here soon. you’re doing great.”

another contraction hits, and she gasps in pain. the time feels like it’s moving slower now, the seconds stretching endlessly.

just then, the door bursts open, and sana rushes back in, the first aid kit in her hands. without missing a beat, she snaps on a pair of gloves, moving toward the woman with expert precision. you meet her gaze for a split second, and in that moment, everything falls into place. this is where you both excel - in these moments, when everything is on the line.

“check her cervix,” sana says, already preparing to assist. “we need to know how far along she is.”

you grab the gloves from her, moving into position immediately. the woman winces as you gently check, and you nod, your voice steady. “she’s two centimeters dilated. early labor, but still manageable for now.”

sana checks the woman’s vitals. “her pulse is stable for now, but these contractions are getting closer together. we need to keep her calm, and we need paramedics here fast.”

the husband’s anxiety spikes again. “but they’re not here yet! i called them forever ago! where are they?”

“stay with her,” you say firmly, offering him reassurance. “the paramedics will be here any second now. we’re doing everything we can. focus on your wife. she needs you now more than ever.”

as if on cue, the paramedics rush in, taking control immediately. one of them quickly kneels beside you, and you brief him on the situation. “she’s preterm, two centimeters dilated, contractions coming every few minutes. we’ve kept her stable, but she needs to be in a neonatal unit.”

the paramedics work quickly, moving with practiced efficiency. you glance at sana, and the briefest smile passes between you. together, you’ve done what you can, and now it’s out of your hands.

as the woman is wheeled out, her husband still holding her hand, she looks up at you, her voice barely above a whisper. “thank you. thank you so much.”

you squeeze her hand gently. “you’re going to be okay. we’ve got you.”

as the paramedics disappear with the woman, you and sana stand in the quiet, watching them go. the weight of the situation lifts just a little as you turn to her.

“well,” you say, your voice quieter now, “i think that was our adrenaline for the night.”

sana chuckles, a tired smile on her face. “i swear, you thrive on chaos.”

you shrug with a grin. “guess it comes with the job.”

but as the adrenaline fades, the exhaustion sets in. you take a deep breath and, with a quick glance at sana, you both rip the gloves off, tossing them into the nearby trash bin. you take a moment to catch your breath, before sitting back down at the table. the world is starting to slow, but you still feel the adrenaline coursing through you. the meal is cold, the wine forgotten, but it doesn’t matter. you look at sana, and in her eyes, you find a quiet comfort.

“even after all of that,” she says softly, “i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, or do this with anyone else.”

you smile, squeezing her hand across the table. “me neither. no matter what happens, we’ve got this.”

and in that quiet moment, as the restaurant resumes its hum, you both find peace in the shared understanding that no matter the chaos, you’re always ready to face it - side by side.

[twilightkitkat]

I feel like Logan is oftentimes written as a character who wants a large amount of distance and space in a relationship but I think that wouldn't really be the case. Obviously he can't be around anyone every waking hour of the day and he's his own person, but I'm convinced he'd be clingy once he got into a relationship. He knows to function on his own, he knows he can go through the motions but he just... doesn't want to.

One of the main arguments I see for him wanting a lot of space is that he has an eternity to live so he doesn't feel constrained on time when it comes to Wade, who's also immortal like him. And yes, that's true, but I raise you this: he's already had 200 years without him. He's had time to do all the things he wanted to (and didn't want to) do alone—he's traveled to different countries, explored his own origins and backstory, learned about different people and places. And sometimes he enjoyed it, even if most of the time he was desperate and angry and isolated from the world.

He already spent enough time being alone that he knows how it feels. He got it out of his system. He was forced to be alone for so long that he almost forgot what it was like to have a companion, let alone someone like Wade. Someone he genuinely connected to for the first time, who understood him and wanted him.

Logan knows what it's like to be alone. He lived through it almost every day of his hellish life in one way or another. He's tired of it, now. He had 200 fucking years to stew in his own company, 3 times longer than most humans even lived.

But this? The feeling of curling next to someone and feeling their warmth? Burrowing so close you can hear their heartbeat? Waking up next to Wade and seeing his bleary-eyed smile? Fighting next to him, trusting someone to watch his back? Waking up from a nightmare and being held and comforted by someone who understands him?

It's so much better than anything he could've imagined. Why would he ever go back to how things were before, when he knows what it feels like to be next to Wade and be loved just for existing? (How could he go back to being alone after finally tasting happiness?)

He'd want to savor it. To lean into the relationship hard and memorize all of Wade's little habits and routine and quirks. He'd be clingy, letting himself demand affection and attention because he knows he can get it. And he's been starved of it for so long.

He knows he could leave, if he wanted to. That he could go out on his own for a while, back out into the cold. But why would he voluntarily do that when he has a perfectly nice fireplace to keep himself warm? If he really wanted to go out to marvel at the snow, now he could bring someone with him and share that joy together. What could be better?

[iluvoscarpiastri]

i usually don’t like to really ever publicly talk about this stuff just cause it leads to too much negativity in the fan base but this post is so ‼️

i started F1 as a lando fan. i was like in love with him. ofc i supported max, charles, oscar, alex everyone but he was just 💘. and i never thought that this is a post that i would ever be typing out 😭.

in the press conference post miami gp race, i remember the reporter asked max if he thinks lando would still have won without the safety car. max knew what they were trying to do and he also knew that lando was going to be very harsh on himself about the race so he instantly shut down any attempts at discrediting lando’s win. he fully backed lando up and was very very happy for lando’s win.

fast forward to zandvoort, when lando won max’s home race, nothing against that at all. that’s just how it happens. no driver is entitled to a race win simply because it’s their home race, however, i do think it was unnecessary for him to throw in the “simply lovely”. did F1 twt go insane about this to an unacceptable extent? yes. but i just want to point out and bring to light the fact that if the roles had been reversed, and max had pulled something like this, you best believe that not just twitter fan pages but fucking sky sports would’ve made it into a huge deal where max was being “disrespectful” and “acting like a child”.

then, brazil gp. there is not a single formula 1 fan who can deny that max’s drive that day was fucking phenomenal. going from P17 to P1 in probably the 2nd or 3rd fastest car with limited visibility and dangerous track conditions is nothing sort of a fucking master class in driving. i understand that lando’s words were taken out of context but it still doesn’t change the fact that some of what he said was completely unavoidable.

lando has always been an advocate for mental health and i have a shit ton of respect for him for that. in this sport, talking about mental health becomes extremely necessary considering the high pressure scenarios, constant public scrutiny, uncertainty of job security too amongst a lot of other things.

like the original post said, why should we feel sympathy for the hate lando’s been getting when the one that max has been getting not just this season but probably ever since he won his first championship is simply ignored as a part and parcel of being in such a sport??

max was booed at multiple races last year, i didn’t see anyone coming out to talk about how it might have been affecting max’s mental health negatively?? do yall really think that just because he acts like it doesn’t affect him, he’s immune to it? where was this talk about mental health when max was being villainised left and right by sky sports? a media company that needs to remain unbiased considering they’re one of the primary broadcasters for F1 related news. where was this talk about mental health when anything and everything that max said or did was taken out of context and his name was dragged through the mud??

i do not condone hating on any driver because of petty ass shit. but it gets tiring to see such double standards.

i am in no way discrediting the hate that lando has been getting off late and i think that’s it’s despicable that people stoop to such petty acts in order to feel better about themselves. the lando hate train has gotten really out of hand and i genuinely think mclaren should take legal action against a lot of these accounts.

but that still does not take away from the fact that max has been hated equally as much and i did not see anyone come forwards and talk about how it might have impacted him negatively.

You know what? I might sound like a c*nt when I say this, but why are we suddenly supposed to feel sorry for Norris?

Are we forgetting the way Norris basically threatened his friendship with Max over something most drivers saw as a racing incident? The way he so happily disrespected Max at his homerace, the way he's been shitting on Max's driving, the way he's tried to undermine Max's performance several times as if it were just luck, when Max has done the complete opposite for him?

The way his friends have been shitting on Max on social media? The way official social media accounts related to him have been taking digs at Max? The way his father liked that disgusting meme of Norris punting Max off at Copse corner? The way his team has been shitting on Max 24/7?

Max has been antagonised by Norris, his team, his family, his friends and his fans all year long, but now we are supposed to sympathise with him??

No. I don't care. And I don't care how that makes me sound.

This time should be about Max's stellar drive in Brazil and the way he's carried this Championship. Not about Norris reaping what he's sowed.

[leth-writes]

Some thoughts about Tim and the Batfam

SUMMARY: just thinking about Tim and the batfam

WARNINGS: 18+ as always on my blog, though the work is safe for work. Typical yandere shenanigans. HEAVY discussion of drugging and taking away of autonomy.

MASTERLIST: https://www.tumblr.com/leth-writes/757800060720496640/requests-open?source=share 

Requests are open!

Tim is a really interesting person, in general. I’m just obsessed with the idea of him drugging a darling, just keeping them all pliant and sleepy and curled up in his bed, even if he’s platonic. 

He spends a lot of time just…watching you, whether that be through cameras or in real life.

You never find the cameras, even though you know they’re there. If you asked him, he wouldn’t deny it. Why would he? There’s nothing you could do about it, and he honestly doesn’t trust your opinions on your own safety. Tim views you as quite innocent and naive, and that’s part of why he spends so much time building a little cocoon in the bed for you to curl up in, your soft snuffles just barely moving the light sheet he’s laid around you.

Just. UGH. I think at first he’d drug your food.

But you start noticing, and you start avoiding food. This sets the rest of the batfam off; is TIm not taking care of you properly?!

(They sometimes talk about you like a pet. It’s weird. You’ve learned not to mention it.)

In response, you’re tied down with soft satin straps and drugged out of your mind through an IV. You’re on an all-liquid diet, practically seeing stars. Tim doesn’t need you conscious or coherent, just safe from harm, after all.

I could even see him putting you in a temporary coma, at least until the heat from your kidnapping dies down. 

I can’t get  over the idea of you just. Trusting him so much, so naively, and he’s just. Fucking drugging your hot chocolate to get you to the manor, he knows if he doesn’t then Jason will and Jason won’t be as gentle about it.

UGH just imagine him doing those exercises every day with you to keep your muscles from atrophying AGHHHH

You wake up afterwards, it’s dark and your mouth is dry. You try to sit up- and you can’t. You’re too weak, too tired from the still-present drugs coursing through your veins. It’s then you see a bright flash, illuminating the corner and it’s FUCKING TIM JUST STANDING THERE

He uses his best camera, just dedicates it to pictures of you, creates an album.

He shows it to everyone else, they’re all cooing and aweing and you’re just sitting there like HELLO PLEASE LET ME LEAVE 🙁

Eventually he might even give you a bit of a choice. You can eat the food, or you can get an injection. When you take the injection you lose an entire day of time, and who knows what the FUCK happened? (nothing, Tim just. Spent most of the day working, occasionally taking the time to brush a hand over your face, just gently tracing your features.)

The others start to get annoyed Tim’s hogging you, and he gets you a wheelchair. You’re too weak, too drugged to be able to move yourself around, and he somehow manages to put some sort of thing on the wheels that lock if you try to go out the door. Like the fucking Grocery Carts.

He starts wheeling you around, letting you see the garden and the birds and Batcow. You spend a lot of time in the library with Alfred the cat curled in your lap, purring as you try to follow the plot of a simple book, your eyes too blurry to see the words properly.

Jason’ll read to you, he likes the bonding time. Plus, your eyes can’t really focus on anyone’s face too long, so he doesn’t have to worry about you being scared by the scars ripped into his skin by his death.

Cass’ll roll you into her studio, prop you against the wall, and just do a stunning routine. Unfortunately you can’t see it very well, and you clap really slowly because your hands feel like they’re filled with lead. She appreciates the effort.

Dick eventually takes over your stretches, though he does sometimes have to fight Bruce for the right. Both love helping you gently stretch out your limbs, admiring the shaking that only comes from intense effort. You’re cute, like a newborn lamb.

It’s infuriating watching Dick do all these complicated moves, while you can barely lift your head, but oh well, they’re so happy you’re here!!

Damian treats you like a younger sibling, even though you’re significantly older than him. He adores having this position of power over you, and abuses it to spend most of his time with you just. Showing you his animals. Titus is practically your emotional support dog at this point, and he trains Ace to be your guard dog.

Bruce loves having you curled up in the office, snoring slightly on the couch, as he slowly wades his way through work. He’ll throw a blanket over you, even as you whimper and shy away from the food he’s hand-feeding you. You aren’t allowed to feed yourself anymore, hell you can barely lift your hand to your mouth.

You eventually get used to spending all your time just. Hanging around, sleeping and letting everyone else do everything for you.

[cosmic-expressions]

❝ MARIGOLDS ♡꒱

ೀ ⋮๋࣭⭑ i'll support you forever

dan heng x fem!reader, fluffy smut; cowgirl, some light marking, overstimulation; yall needy for each other, it's messy, chaotic but it'll make sense after I drop part2 words: 443 (man.) a/n: hi hello! this is part1 of a smol thing I thought would be cool to write but anyway enjoy <333 reblogs, feedback, etc is always appreciated!!! love ya <333

the slapping sounds have been going on for hours now and you’re sure the whole crew is hearing how good DAN HENG is doing you. do you care, though? absolutely not.

moaning desperately, you hold on to him, arms over his shoulders as you pull him in for messy kisses. it seems you can’t get enough of him (and that’s true), so desperate and needy for him and his touch. aeons, how much you missed being in his arms.

“d-darling! oh- darling, i-!” DAN HENG can’t speak clearly, words slurred together as he too, is getting lost in the pleasure. with his lips on yours, DAN HENG is swallowing every moan and whine of yours, groaning between the messy kisses instead.

you ride him like there’s no tomorrow; bouncing on his still rock-hard cock, you can’t get enough of the delicious stretch and how good he’s filling you. with eyes rolled back, you move rapidly and chaotically, doing anything to just feel him and feel good.

“DAN HENG- DAN HENG, fuck-! nnngh-!” all you can cry out is his name paired with curses and sweet, sweet whines of pleasure. “fuck! DAN HENG! dan- DAN HENG!”

kissing his neck urgently, you leave a trail of gentle nips all the way from his jaw to his shoulder. it’s clear you’re getting tired and it’s not surprising; you’ve been riding him like that for a long time now.

“i got you, baby- i got you,” DAN HENG mutters into your ear and kisses your temple, his big hands holding your hips tight. with his aid, you’re able to go on again, crying out his name in wild pleasure that’s taking over you.

DAN HENG has never seen you so desperate, needy, and almost feral, but he’s not really… surprised; he himself has been missing your touch, your pussy, and the way it envelops him tightly each time… that mission was too long for both of your likings. but now that you two have each other’s back in your arms, life is worth living again.

with his hands guiding your hips, he wastes no time and takes your nipple in his mouth, sucking gently on it, kissing the hardening bud, and twirling his tongue around it.

you’re screaming, crying in pleasure, so overstimulated, and yet… you’re hungry for more. holding his head against your chest, you encourage him further to suck and take care of your nipples, all while your pussy clamps down on DAN HENG’s cock just right. your juices paired with his cum make it easier for him to slide in and out, stretching you right and hitting all the right spots nestled deep inside...

[PART2] (tba)

[M-MLIST] [HSR-MLIST] [KO-FI]

[salem-witch-slut]

I Don't Need You (Don't You Leave Me)(18+)

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie were always at each other's throats. Everything between you two felt like a competition. But when you are severely injured on patrol one day because of Ellie's carelessness, things between you change.

WARNINGS: Canon typical violence, descriptions of blood/bones breaking, awkward!Ellie, reader described as taller and stronger than Ellie, switch!Ellie (more sub though), dom!reader, fingering, face-sitting (Ellie receiving), spanking, Ellie calls reader "princess"

WORD COUNT: 9.3K

A/N: I always loved this one... I thought it was really cute and Ellie feels very in character for this one.

You hated morning patrols… Well, not so much morning, but the horrendous feeling of being awake before the sun is up. When you agreed to run through Hoback Pass, you were under the stipulation that you’d be riding with Jesse… You know, someone you got along with? Someone who wasn’t so cocky that they may as well have a membership card to the medical tent.

Someone so frustrating that it made your skin crawl just thinking about her… But Jesse had traded shifts with her, and now you had no choice but to put up with the reason you knew how to say fuck you in 3 different languages.

Your hands were tight on the reins of your stallion as you were almost falling asleep in the saddle. It was too warm that morning, and you wanted to go crawl back in bed and forget that this day was even taking place. And yet, fate had other things to say about it, that tricky bitch.

“Would you move your ass already?”

Her voice rang in your ears, forcing you to look up. The way the sun reflected down onto her auburn hair and how it accentuated her muscly biceps in the glow of orange. You may have blushed had you not felt so tired and instead of admiring her hot arms, you were scowling and rolling your eyes so hard that you’re amazed they didn’t get stuck in the back of your head.

“Trust me, Ellie,” You spoke, kicking your horse into a soft trot before yanking on the reins and stopping right next to her and her mare. “I’ll be the happiest I’ve ever been once this shit is all over.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You clicked your tongue against the back of your teeth and groaned. “It means you are driving me fucking crazy.”

“Yeah?” Ellie yanked Shimmer in front of you and your stallion who halted and gave a challenging huff, much like you did. “Then keep up. Sooner we check in, the sooner we’re done.”

Shimmer trotted in front with her rider in tow and you huffed. “Bitch.”

It was always like this with you two. Sometimes when patrol groups were in threes, you and Ellie almost always got put on those, with Joel or Tommy playing mediator so you two wouldn’t just get into an all-out fist fight in the middle of the trail. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes you left with a bruise on your face and her with a split lip.

What was it about Ellie Williams that just… got under your skin? What was it that made you so infuriated whenever she spoke to you? Was it because she had always been rude to you? Maybe it was her inability to accept her mortality with how fucking reckless she always was. Was it her I’m better than you attitude?

Maybe it was something else entirely… Maybe you two were at each other’s throats because the sexual tension between you two was so annoying that Dina and Jesse had a bet going on who was going to kiss who first.

Everybody saw it. Everybody but you two. Ellie thought you were beautiful, assertive, and highly skilled in hand-to-hand combat. But she also said you were a hard-ass, bossy, and over-analyzed every little detail to the point that she would need a fucking magnifying glass to see all the fine print in your plans.

And Ellie? Ellie was a hardcore badass who thought with her fists before using her head, which was strange due to how absolutely brilliant she was. You heard her talks with her friends; she knew so much about science and space and literature… Why was she always so dumb when it came to her safety?

You were thinking very rude and nasty things as you two continued your trek down the trail, stopping every once in a while, to look for supplies inside of old buildings and watching Ellie do some fucking acrobatic shit just to get another one of her useless superhero cards on the third floor of a destroyed building. You were on the ground, checking your rifle for probably the thousandth time that day when the sounds of obvious distress made you look up.

“Shit, MOVE! ” Ellie shouted and watched as you had to roll out of the way to not get hit in the head with a rusted ladder that clattered to the ground aggressively. Your heart pounded in your ears as you looked up at Ellie who was now trapped on the third floor of the used-to-be, building with no way down.

The emotions that went across your face were like whiplash. At first, you looked angry at her complete carelessness, and then you realized she was genuinely stuck up there and you couldn’t stop laughing. In seconds, you were doubling over, your snorts of amusement echoing in the wind as Ellie pouted. She certainly looked cute with her bottom lip sticking out like that.

“How’s the weather up there?” You paced back and forth in front of the building as Ellie huffed, laying down on her stomach and leaning over the edge a little to see just how far down it was. The only thing keeping her up was that floor and a load bearing brick pillar.

“Stop being a dick and help me! ”

You grinned. “Hmm… and why should I do that?”

“You know I’ve got a clean shot, right?” Ellie removed her pistol from the back of her jeans and held it up like it was a threat. “Bet I could hide your body pretty fucking easily.”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes before picking the ladder back up, only for it to fall apart in your hands, the rusted pieces scraping against each other and falling into a heap on the ground. The amusement began to leave your face and you realized that this actually was a bad situation that she was in.

“Great, figures,” Ellie rolled onto her back and stared up at the sky. “Everything you touch turns to shit.”

“Oh, the optimism is fuckin’ killing me, El,” You shot back with an equal amount of sass. You didn’t see her blushing from where she was, which she was grateful for in the moment. “Just calm down. I’ll figure something out.”

All you got from her was a thumbs up over the side of the ledge and you sighed with irritation. Why did she have to be so… so fucking infuriating? She was 18 and still acted like a damn child sometimes. You were in your bitter thoughts as you looked around for anything that could be helpful. Another ladder? A rope? Anything that can save her sorry ass from getting stuck up there and starving to death.

“God, it’s fuckin’ hot,” The sun was up now, which meant that Wyoming was being cooked from the rays, and that meant with no shade, you were being blasted from every single angle. You stripped off your lightweight jacket and tied it around your waist. Sweat dripped from your forehead and stained your t-shirt as you dug around under the remains of some of the buildings.

You were focused on saving your partner, but in doing so, you had taken your eyes off her. And while she wasn’t exactly far away, you missed the way she was staring at you in that moment. In Ellie’s mind, all she wanted to do was trace your collarbone with her tongue and feel your hands against her ass… She truly was too gay for her own good.

Ellie scooted closer to the ledge when she saw you disappear behind a broken-down truck, and then she heard a cracking sound. The platform trembled and Ellie began backing away from the ledge as fast as she possibly could with her face going pale and her heart rate shooting sky high.

“Ellie?!” You called out, immediately abandoning what you were looking for and running over to the building. The cement between the bricks on the pillar was beginning to crack, and once that was gone, the building would be coming down in literal seconds. Your partner began panicking, looking down at you as you began to pace like a wild animal ready to attack their prey.

“Do something!” Ellie screamed as the platform shook so hard that she was knocked flat on her ass.

You laughed in the most cynical fashion. “Wh-What the hell do you want me to do?! I can’t stop it from falling down!”

“If I die because of this, I will haunt your ass forever !”

Time was running out and the building was coming down any second. You were out of options and only had one choice. “Jump!”

Ellie looked at you with her eyes wide and her fists clenched. “Are you fucking crazy—”

“ Shut the fuck up, and JUMP!”

The bricks in the middle of the pillar began snapping into pieces and Ellie realized she had no other way out of this situation. She looked down at you as you held your arms out for her. With a final, FUCK IT! Ellie jumped off the platform and into your arms.

You pushed both feet into the ground and bent your knees slightly. Ellie didn’t weigh much, and you were certain you could carry her, so why not this? And that’s exactly what happened. At first, Ellie thought you might let her hit the ground, but you had rushed forward just to make sure she didn’t hit the ground! And yes, she was light, but the momentum of her falling and you not moving had your entire body smacking against the back of the broken-down car.

The window to the passenger side door shattered with the impact of your body and you saw stars for a second with how much it hurt to hit something so hard. But you quickly remembered that you both needed to move. Without so much as a second thought, you ran out of the way of the collapsing building with Ellie still in your arms.

Of course, the fucking building had to fall at an angle. And in the direction that you were running. Your blood was rushing to your ears with adrenaline as you managed to slip on the fucking mud and ended up dropping Ellie into the dirt a few feet away from you.

“Shit, look out!” Ellie grabbed your hand and attempted to pull you away, but she wasn’t fast enough. The building came crashing down. The bulk of it missed you, but one of the wooden planks that was holding the floor together snapped off the remains and went flying in your direction. The plank came in direct contact with your leg and the sickening snapping sound definitely wasn’t from the wood.

You shrieked in agony, immediately crawling away from the rubble as it finally ceased its collapse and you fell to the dirt, whimpering in pain and tears streaking down your face. There was no doubt in your mind that your leg was broken, and you just knew that you were gonna catch so much shit for this. Your whole body felt like it was on fire and all you could think of was how much Ellie was going to hound your ass for not moving fast enough to get out of the way.

You looked up and coughed on the dust that the rubble kicked into the air, stomach twisting at the agony as you crawled away and slammed your fist into the dirt. “Fuck! God fucking damn it…”

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Ellie crouched down and placed both hands on your shoulders, getting your attention. You looked up with tears in your eyes and she brushed the hair out of your face and looked like she wanted to throw up. “Stay here… Stay right here, I’ll get the horses.”

You gave a weak laugh and dropped down into the dirt, giving her a thumbs up. “W... Where would I even go?”

A few seconds went by before Ellie returned with both horses behind her. She stopped right next to you and began to freak out, her hands going all over your back and behind your pack straps where she let out a hiss of pain. You had shards of broken glass embedded in your skin and your shirt was now soaked with blood. “Here, gimme your hand.”

Wordlessly, you slapped your palm into her grasp and braced yourself for her to yank you on your feet, which she did. You tried to keep your foot off the ground, but it was almost impossible.

“Can you get on?” Ellie questioned and you just nodded, grabbing at your horse’s saddle and jumping off the ground on your good leg, swinging the other one over the side of his back and forcing yourself to slide the foot on your broken leg into the stirrup.

Ellie jumped on Shimmer way faster than you could, and you both immediately began to ride back to Jackson, not even bothering with the checkpoint. Someone else would have to come out here to clean up your mess, and it would most likely be Maria and Shawn… As if she didn’t have enough to do already.

When the gates to the town opened up, Ellie was already helping you out of the saddle on your horse, putting one hand on your hip and the other holding your wrist as she slung your arm over her shoulder. The amount of concerned looks you two received made you feel sick. You’d have to tell everybody now that you broke your damn leg because you couldn’t move fast enough.

“Could you all stop fucking looking at us and help?!” Ellie shouted, her anger level rising as everybody was whispering but no one was doing a damn thing to help.

“What happened?!” You looked up and made a face of distress at seeing Joel and Tommy looking down at both of you, your face turning red with embarrassment. You felt so stupid.

Ellie readjusted her hold on your hip. “A building fell down; I think her leg’s broken—”

“Oh no,” You laughed, but there was no humor in your voice. “It’s definitely fucking broken…”

“Alright, c’mon then,” Without even warning you, Joel was bending down and lifting you up off the ground and into his arms, so you didn’t step on your bad leg. It was then that Tommy noticed the glass buried in your back and he immediately started swearing. “Ellie, tell Maria what happened. Gonna get her to the tent.”

As soon as you were out of earshot, Ellie let the biggest gasp escape from her mouth in her entire life. Her hand went to her chest, and she doubled over, almost like she was trying not to throw up after all of that. “I’m sorry… God damn it, I’m so sorry…”

The next few days were pretty much absolute torture for you. After the doctor had realigned your broken bone and placed you in a splint, you had been bedridden for the days to come. The timeframe given was not great… 4 whole months of nothing? 4 whole months of being trapped inside of your home with absolutely nothing for you to do? How in the actual fuck were you going to survive?

With stitches on your back and your leg wrapped around metal rods to keep it straight as it healed, you were pretty much incapacitated for the near future. Even getting yourself out of bed was a nightmare. And taking a shower may as well have been curing fucking cancer. It felt impossible every single time and you had no choice but to tape a plastic bag around the metal rods, so they didn’t rust against your skin.

It was early morning and you had just gotten yourself out of bed, sitting on your reclining chair in your small living room and watching one of your many movies you had retrieved during your patrol missions. Your leg was propped up on the bench in front of you, and you were content to stay like this all day long, unless you had to pee or something.

Of course, you were content… And then someone knocked on your damn door. A sigh left your throat as you paused the movie and pushed yourself off the chair and onto your feet. Maria had given you a set of crutches and that was the only way you would ever possibly get around for the near future. This was quite actually the fucking worst thing ever.

“Hold on,” You said as the person knocked once again. You opened the door, not even bothering to look through the window, and stumbled back a bit on your foot, your cheeks turning a soft pink.

God, Ellie sure looked like a kicked puppy when she stood like that. “Hey…”

“Uhm…” You cleared your throat for a second and stepped back. “Hi. Is there some—”

You paused and looked down, seeing that there were flowers in her hand and a solemn look on her face. Suddenly, you felt like she hadn’t come by to tear you apart for getting yourself hurt. Well, she was here for something, wasn’t she?

“How are you doing?” Ellie held the violet-colored flowers in both hands and looked over your shoulder before looking back down at her hands, almost like she couldn’t look you in the eyes.

You frowned. “I’m fine, Ellie… I just have a break, it’s not the end of the world.”

She nodded, still looking at the ground. “Right… Can I— Can I come in? I have something I need to say.”

What’s stopping you from slamming the door in her face? What’s stopping you from saying no and telling her to fuck off? Well, nothing was stopping you… but you kind of didn’t want to. If anything, you wanted to hear what she had to say… Plus, that fucking puppy-dog look was just melting your heart.

You pushed the door open with the crutch and limped away from the door, allowing Ellie to come inside of your home. She closed the door behind herself, and you hobbled your way into the kitchen where you began pouring a glass of water for her. It was just in your nature to be hospitable, apparently.

“What’s this about, El?” You sat on one of the barstools and slowly looked down at your wrapped leg, trying not to think about how your bone was all sorts of fucked under the bandages. Ellie offered the flowers to you, and for a brief moment, you forgot about your broken leg.

Ellie took notice of how you winced when you sat down, and the stitches on your exposed back. Her heart ached at the sight of them. “Listen… I didn’t mean to… W-What I’m trying to say is… I need to tell you—”

You snorted and she finally looked up to meet your eyes. You noticed her cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s my fault you broke your leg… shit, I never meant for this to happen. I wasn’t trying to like, kill you or anything, that was a joke—”

“Ellie,” You reached out and gently grabbed her hand. You saw her whole body tense up as she looked down at you, and you responded with a smile at her confusion. “It’s okay… I’m just happy you’re okay, you know?”

The redhead looked down at her shoes… Those dirty, beat-up converse that you loved to tease her about and how she needed to fucking wear something else every once in a while, or she would be walking with holes in her soles at some point. “Yeah, well… you kind of saved my ass.”

Your own cheeks turned a soft pink as you looked down at the flowers in her hands and slowly reached for them. She offered the velvety flora for you, and you inhaled the scent of them. It reminded you of the smell of rain on a dirt road in the morning… They were definitely beautiful, and you felt something in your chest when you looked up at Ellie who was giving you a slight smile.

“Wasn’t gonna just stand there and do nothing, El,” You placed the flowers down on the counter as carefully as you could and offered her the glass of water. “I didn’t want you getting hurt… And yes, you were the dumbass that went up there in the first place, but I shouldn’t have been laughing about you getting stuck up there.”

“No, no, you were in your right to laugh,” Ellie cleared up. “It was a stupid-ass thing to do.”

“Mmmm, yeah it was,” You chuckled, watching as Ellie took the glass from your hand and looked down inside of it. “It’s not poisoned, dipshit.”

“Just making sure,” She shrugged her shoulders and sipped on the water, making you smile once again… Fuck, this was nice. It was so nice to talk to Ellie and not want to kill her for a few minutes. It was so comforting that she didn’t blame you, and that she was coming to apologize… Like she felt guilty about treating you like dirt for the past 4 years or so…

There was this warm fuzzy feeling in your chest as Ellie sat across from you at the bar and you couldn’t shake the feeling no matter how hard you tried.

It only took 3 months instead of the predicted 4. You did everything the doctor told you to do, and you were cleared for patrols in the morning. You were ecstatic at first, but then you saw the route… You were running with Tommy, and Joel was going with Ellie… But you wanted to go with Ellie; you told Maria you wanted to go with Ellie! Why didn’t she listen?

“Hey Joel,” You pulled the Texan to the side in the paddock and suddenly felt like you were asking his daughter to the fucking prom. “Uh… Is it okay if we switch routes? I-I wanted to go with Ellie.”

“Yeah, uh… about that,” Joel rubbed the back of his neck and looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there. What happened? “Ellie doesn’t wanna go with you.”

It was like you had just got hit in the face. Your emotions went all over the place but mostly, you felt betrayal. What happened between you and Ellie recently that made her not want to go on patrol with you? Was it from the shots you two took turns doing last week? Was it when you were staring at her in the pastures yesterday? Maybe it was from the way you held her hand during that scary movie you two watched… What could have been the reason?!

Your hands clenched into fists, and you walked over to the stallion with your name on it, grabbing at his reins and yanking him away. “Thanks anyway, Joel.”

You saddled up next to Tommy, taking the rifle he gave you and checking to see if the chamber was loaded. You glanced down the line of patrollers and saw Ellie sitting next to Joel on her mare, checking her own rifle. When she looked down the line and made eye contact with you, she immediately looked away. What the fuck was her problem?

After being stuck in a house for 3 months straight, you had come to find something out about yourself. You had a very short fuse, and almost no fucking patience. Sitting in this kitchen alone, looking down at the countertop and remembering those flowers Ellie brought you when she first came to see you…

In the last 3 months, you two had gotten close. And it wasn’t the guilt that made her come around. No, she genuinely enjoyed your presence and you felt like her being with you was a breath of fresh air. You saw her a lot, and she would come outside with you when you wanted to walk around and stretch out your good leg.

And suddenly, she was cold to you… Like she couldn’t even stand to fucking look at you again. Your heart sunk down into your stomach and you looked out of your kitchen window. It was already dark outside, and you were desperate for answers on why she treated you like such shit… Why couldn’t Ellie even look at you?

In your state of anger, you grabbed your jacket from the coat rack, slid on your shoes, and you were out the door in seconds. It took a full 8 minutes to walk to Ellie’s little shed home behind Joel’s house. You pushed the back gate open and walked up to her front door, banging on the wooden surface with your whole fist.

“Gimme a damn minute!” Ellie shouted from the other side of the door. Your rage just seemed to rise as you curled your hands into fists and as soon as the door opened, you were putting a hand on her chest and shoving her inside of the house. “Jeez— the fuck is going on?!”

You spun around, slammed the door, and stared her down like she just hit you in the face… which you had half a mind to do to her once again. “What the fuck happened this morning?”

Almost immediately, Ellie flinched at your words and looked down. At least she had the damn decency to look ashamed of herself. Of course, when she said nothing, it didn’t help your anger. You just got even more heated, and you stepped forward. You were a few inches taller than her so you had superiority here… at least in height.

“We have been… we were fine! I thought we were good, Ellie. Why? Why are you back to treating me like this— Are you ashamed to admit to your fuckin’ friends that I’m now your friend too?”

Ellie recoiled as if you had just slapped her. “What? No! No, why would I—”

“Then why is it,” You started, stepping forward and towering over her. Ellie inhaled sharply and stepped back, almost tripping on the stuff all over her floor. “As soon as I’m cleared for patrol, and you’re around your friends again, you start treating me like shit again?”

“I didn’t mean for you to—” Ellie gasped and stumbled until the back of her legs hit the bed and she caught herself before she fell on her ass. “Did Joel not tell you?”

“Oh, he made it pretty fuckin’ clear, Williams,” You snapped, and your face was inches away from hers. It was like all those times before that you two had gotten into fist fights. Only this time… Ellie was actually backing down. She acted like she didn’t want this to happen; she didn’t want to fight you at all. “You better explain yourself. Or I swear, I will walk out of that door, and I will never, ever speak to you again.”

The silence was deafening. For the first time in a long time, Ellie was speechless. Her heart was racing, and she was panting as if she just ran a marathon. You scoffed, your lips twisting into a vicious snarl and your brows pulling down with aggression. “Fine. Fuck you then, Ellie.”

Your hand wrapped around the front handle of the door, and you were about to turn it when you felt a hand close around your wrist. You were mere seconds from punching her in the face, but you sure as shit couldn’t do that after what Ellie just did.

The redhead grabbed your wrist with one hand, shoved you by the chest with the other, and slammed her lips against your own. A loud inhale pulled from you at her sudden assertiveness, slamming your body into the door and digging her nails into the skin of your wrist. Well, this certainly was not what you were expecting, like at all…

Ellie acted desperate as she practically devoured you, her lips moving against your own with a feverish desire that you simply couldn’t wrap your head around in that moment. You were still in shock more than anything, but at least you weren’t mad anymore, right? No, just confused now.

A few seconds passed as Ellie reached up and curled both hands into the front of your shirt, and you put your own hands on her jaw, pulling her away from your lips with a wet SMACK! She felt like heaven on your lips, but you needed answers.

Of course, pushing Ellie off was a lot harder than you originally thought. As soon as you separated her, she would dive back in to steal another kiss and you felt your heart pounding in your chest all over again. Breathing her in with every fiber of your being, you mutter against her mouth, trying to get a word in edgewise but matching her kisses with equal ferocity.

“El…Ellie, W-what is—” You paused and gave her one very long kiss and broke it just to finish your sentence. “What’re you doing?”

“M’sick of it,” She whined, sliding one of her hands into your hair and the other slid down the front of your chest before gripping you by the side and pulling you flush against her torso. A gasp left your throat and Ellie took that opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth. “So, fucking tired… tired of pretending like I don’t want you.”

The color that rose to your cheeks could be seen from space. You inhaled hard through your nose and wrapped both arms around her, like you might drift away from her if every single inch of your body wasn’t pressed against her own.

“God, El,” You cooed sweetly, enough to pull a whine from her throat as she dug her nails into your shoulders. “Didn’t know you were so hot for me—”

“Don’t fucking make me regret this,” She scowled, looking up at you with that familiar challenging look on her face that you found yourself adoring very quickly when it was under different circumstances. Well, if she wanted a challenge, when did you ever back down from the chance of putting Ms. Williams in her place?

The most mischievous smirk crossed your face, and she had no idea what was in store for her. You reached down and grabbed at her wrists with one hand, lifting them up and spinning so this time, it was her back pressing into the door. You pushed both hands over her head and held them there, keeping her hostage and looking down with the biggest grin possible.

Ellie was completely speechless, and her entire face went red with embarrassment. “W-What the fuck was that?”

You slowly slid your free hand up the length of her side, tugging up her shirt as you moved, nails gently raking across her pretty freckled skin. The way her body shuddered against yours was a sure way to make you groan as you leaned down and pressed your mouth against her neck. You inhaled her beautiful scent and pressed your lips down on her hot skin.

“God, you smell so good, El,” You purred as you kissed from the start of her shoulder up to the base of her jaw. Ellie’s hands flexed inside your own like she wanted to fight back. For a small moment, she managed to pull her hands forward, but you quickly slammed them back. It seemed like you had a lot of pent-up strength and energy to burn off from being bedridden for months.

“W-Wait, wait, wait,” Ellie begged, squirming against the door and making you look up for a second. Her desperate tone was what pulled you away and you slowly released her wrists, taking your hands back away from her body. Her body was trembling, and she looked like a frightened bunny in your presence. You suddenly felt like you went too far.

“Are you okay?” You slowly reached out and felt a slight wave of relief when she didn’t shy away from your touch. Both hands went to her face, and you stroked your thumbs across her jaw.

“Y-Yeah, I’m just…” Ellie breathed, putting a hand over her chest and inhaling through her nose like she couldn’t catch her breath. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, Ellie, it’s okay,” You forced her to look back up in your eyes. Her pupils were dilated, and she looked terrified. “Hey, hey… look at me.”

Every time her eyes would try to look away, you would coax her into looking back up in your eyes, pressing a soft kiss against her nose and trying to calm her down as best you could. All you wanted was for Ellie to calm down… But like everything else that happened between you two, that was proving to be even more of a task than you thought it would.

You only relaxed when her breathing went back to normal. Very slowly, Ellie returned her gaze at you and gave you a haphazard smile. A breath of relief filled the air, and you pressed your forehead against hers. “There you are… if you want to stop, it’s okay—”

“Wait, no, no, no, wait!” Ellie grabbed your shirt and yanked you forward before you could back away. You stumbled on your feet and had to slam your arm into the door above her head, so you didn’t end up slamming directly against her. The noise that she made was enough to send you into fucking cardiac arrest. Her eyes were now focused on your strong arms, and she trailed her gaze up to the length of your neck and to your eyes. “…Fuck.”

Your heart sped up all over again and you looked like you wanted to eat her alive.

“Ellie,” You huffed out her name, and she responded by saying your name almost in a taunting manner. “Listen, we can… we can talk about this, and we can… You know, we don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for, it’s—”

You squeaked embarrassingly loud as she yanked you back down and slammed your lips against her own once again. She reacted to your kiss like it was a breath of air after being underwater. Like it was all she could need to stay calm and collected.

The way she squirmed against you was almost like she wanted more, but you were worried that she just wanted to stop but couldn’t voice it. “It’s okay, baby… I won’t hurt you; I promise—”

“Fuck,” Ellie bit down on your bottom lip and inhaled your entire being with desperate intent. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… I can’t take it anymore.”

You were planning to question what she meant when you felt her grab at your wrist and placed one of your hands around her neck. Almost instantly, you gently grabbed her throat and pushed her back against the door, using your other hand to block her head from smacking into the wood. She groaned as your grip tightened on her neck and it was like she didn’t have a dominant bone in her body.

The way Ellie just fully gave you the reins and relinquished control of herself… it was doing ridiculous things to you. Very slowly, you pulled your hand away from her throat and reached down, grabbing the underside of her thighs and yanking her away from the door.

Despite how obvious it was what you were planning, she still swore with surprise when you picked her up off the ground and wrapped both of her incredibly strong legs around her waist. It was no secret that you were stronger than her, but she was faster than you… It was one of the reasons you two were always at odds. Back when you were younger, Ellie would challenge you all the time. She always won in her mock race, and you always managed to beat her at arm wrestling… It may have been where your feud started.

And now, things were different; so different. Ellie used to hate that you could pick things up so easily and she was beyond jealous that girls fawned over you when they saw you working in the stable and not going on patrol. She thought she was jealous of you… But now she’s seeing that wasn’t the case. No, Ellie wanted you to pick her up and toss her around like she was a fucking bale of hay.

And that’s exactly what you did. You kept both hands on her thighs and took a few steps back before turning on your heel and dropping her down onto the bed underneath you. The sound she made was beyond gorgeous and you felt like you were gonna lose it.

“God, what the fuck are you doing to me?” Ellie whined, arching off the bed as you trailed your lips back down her neck. With one finger, you pulled down the collar of her shirt and without warning, latched your teeth down against her neck. She immediately grabbed your hair with both hands and yanked, hard, making you hiss in pain and pull back away from her skin. “Y-You’re pissin’ me off, you know that?”

All you could do was laugh and immediately pull yourself back. She struggled against you and tried to keep you on top of her, but you simply grabbed her wrists and held them over her head once again, towering over her and gently taking hold of her chin with your free hand. “I can go, y’know… Don’t even have to be here, baby. You’d have to fuck yourself—”

“That’s… Shit, that’s not…” Ellie fumbling on her words was the cutest thing you had ever seen. You smirked, like you always did whenever you won one of her stupid contests and dragged your fingertips across her neck and down over her chest. She looked so angry with you, and yet, she couldn’t stop from giving you the most adorable moan you’ve heard in your life.

Your hand stopped at the hem of her shirt, and you paused. “Can I take this off?”

“I’m gonna be pretty fucking upset if you don’t,” She snapped back, making you shudder with excitement. It was like you couldn’t take her clothes off fast enough. Her shirt was the first to go, and then her jeans followed, along with her sneakers. She yanked on your own shirt desperately, almost tearing the fabric with how aggressive she pulled, and you decided to take pity on her, stripping yourself out of your own clothes and grabbing her hips in order to pull her up higher on the bed so you could fully encompass her body.

You couldn’t help but stare at her, your strong hands grabbing at her leg and lifting her knee up so you could press down between her thighs. Feeling her bare skin against your own was like electricity in your bones and you had to remind yourself to breathe as you kissed all over the expanse of her chest just above her sports bra.

“St-stop fucking teasing me,” Ellie said, almost losing it.

“Ellie,” You broke off from her chest and grabbed at her sports bra before slowly pushing the fabric up around her chest and staring at the soft swell of her breasts. You had to press your thighs together and you were practically drooling over her. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

Her face went even redder at your words, and you immediately bent down, your tongue sliding all over her skin and tracing between her breasts. She threaded her fingers in your hair as you grabbed the soft flesh and squeezed, nails digging into her skin and gently rubbing her nipples with the pads of your thumbs. The way she whined was adorably pathetic and you just wanted to hear even more.

You trailed your lips down her flat abdomen and gently pinched at her nipples, marveling at how her stomach sucked in when she gasped. It was like it was too much for her, and you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing her even more. “Baby… You gonna cum just from me playing with your tits?”

Ellie gasped and slammed her fists into the mattress, sitting up off the bed and looking down at you like she wanted to set you on fire. “I can… almost promise you,” Her voice was breathy and deep, and it made you even wetter. “If you don’t fuck me in the next five minutes, I will hurt you.”

“Promise?” You grinned and slipped your thumb into the elastic of her panties and slowly pulled them down her thighs, tossing the fabric away from you and onto the floor. You had wasted enough time already. And now all you wanted to do was give Ellie exactly what she wanted.

“J-Just… Just fucking fuck me— ohgod! ” Ellie choked on her breath the second she felt your fingers against her slick folds. Her legs opened up for you and she shuddered with each stroke of your fingers along her cunt and creating a map of her with your mind. You didn’t touch any place in particular, and you didn’t let your touch linger; you kept her on edge the entire time.

Every time you pressed your fingertips against her opening, she would bite her lip and grab the sheets with her hands, and then when you pulled away, she would start pouting. You did the exact same thing with her clit, pressing the pads of your index and middle finger on her sensitive bundle of nerves and gave a few little rubs before moving away. It was the most aggressive form of torture she had ever felt in her entire life.

“Stop! Fuck, fuck, stop it!” Ellie yanked your hair until your lips were away from her hip bone and looked down at the many love bites and hickies you left in your wake. She was practically fuming with desperation as she got on her knees and used your hair as leverage to push you down onto the bed as she climbed on top of you. “Fucking pain in the ass.” 

“Oh? What’s wrong, sweetheart?” You teased, biting your lip as she pushed your head into the pillows, slowly crawling up and making it so you couldn’t keep teasing her. You shut up pretty fast when she swung her leg over and her pussy was inches away from your face. She was absolutely soaking wet, and it was clear that this was a final ditch effort to force you to fuck her. 

“Maybe this way,” Ellie grabbed at the headboard behind you and spread her legs even more until she was centimeters from your mouth. “You’ll finally shut that pretty mouth of yours.” 

Ellie didn’t expect the dominance from you as you grabbed her ass with both hands and yanked her down onto your face. With a sharp intake of breath, Ellie whined and began to grind herself against your mouth as you began to lick at her slick cunt. You knew she was strong and in all honesty, could most likely sit on your face for hours without her legs getting tired. And it was why you were confident enough to hardly even hold her in place. 

“Fuck,” Ellie pushed her face into the wall and held still as you sucked on her slick folds and slid your tongue up until it was pressing on her clit. She squirmed a little at the pleasure and you immediately grabbed her hips with your strong hands, holding her still and licking at her clit fast enough for her to see stars. “ Fuck ! Oh fuck…” 

It was adorable; you were on the bottom but you were still in control of her. There was no autonomy left with her as she moaned and did her best to hide the way her body was reacting to your thick tongue. You were certain that you would leave bruises on her skin as you held her in place and practically destroyed her on your mouth. 

And while it was so nice that she was giving you enough room to breathe, a part of you wasn’t having as much as you wanted. You slid your hands up from her hips and grabbed her waist, yanking on her and growling with dominance. Ellie responded with a groan at the vibrations from your noise and looked down to meet your heavy-lidded eyes. 

“Shit, I… I don’t want to crush you–” 

You moaned against her folds and lifted her up for a second just so you could speak, and she was already upset that you stopped. “If you’re gonna sit on my face… you better fucking sit down. Don’t just hover; sit!” 

For a moment, Ellie was reminded of when you yelled at her to jump. She was right about that… So why not this? 

You let out a breathy snarl and decided to make the choice for her when you pulled her back down and immediately went back to eating her out. Your tongue lapped at her clit and you kneaded her strong ass with both hands as she leaned back and pushed her hand into your thigh in order to stay sitting upright. Ellie couldn’t keep quiet even if she tried, grinding down against your mouth and rubbing her juices all over your face. 

“Yeah, just like that…” Ellie moaned, her head falling back as she held you by the hair and slowly moved her other hand between your legs. It was like you knew because you immediately started spreading your legs and dug your heels into the mattress while she put her entire palm against your clothed pussy. The noise you made just seemed to make her even wetter. “N-Not gonna… let you have all the fun, Jesus christ your mouth feels so good…” 

You simply hummed with approval and arched up into her hand as you wrapped your lips around her clit and sucked. She let out a tiny squeal at the sensation and immediately reached inside of your panties, pressing her fingers in between your own slick folds and rubbing at your clit without holding anything back. 

You couldn’t say anything; all you could do was moan into Ellie’s cunt as she played with your pussy, your eyes squeezing shut and your mouth collecting all of her wetness as best as you could. The mess you were making was beyond vulgar. Her juices dripped from her cunt and all over your face, creating a huge wet spot on her sheets behind your head. Your drool slicked her up even more and your tongue spread it around, the sounds reverberating off the walls and making her blush with just how loud you were when you feasted on her pussy. 

“God, fuck yes,” Ellie cried. “Ugh, you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you princess?” 

The nickname had your eyes rolling and you responded with a soft smack to her ass. Ellie gasped and responded by sliding her hand down and pushing two fingers directly into your tight cunt, making you scream into her pussy. Even when you were eating her out, she had to make everything a fucking competition. 

With one final slurping sound, you lifted Ellie off your face and looked up, gently grinding up into her fingers as she slowly pumped them in and out of your wet cavern, soaking your panties and smirking, feeling like she finally got the upper hand. You chuckled and slid your hand from her ass and began to prod her opening with your own fingers. 

“Easy baby,” You cooed sweetly between your own whines of pleasure as she gently curled her fingers upward and stroked along your soft inner walls. Her hips were moving on their own, bucking against your hand as you leaned forward, kissing her hip and slowly pushing both fingers inside her slick cunt. “Fuck, slipped right in… Naughty girl–”

“Shut up,” Ellie scowled. “T-trying too hard to… ohhhhfuck…” 

With a simple twist of your wrist and your fingers bending inside of her, she finally stopped complaining. Her words died on her tongue as she kept still but pounded at your pussy with her long, strong fingers. “Look at yourself, baby… Oh, you love getting fucked, don’t you?” 

Ellie was too far gone to fight back and her hand began faltering on your cunt just trying to hold it together. You were the lucky one to get a front row seat of seeing her pussy spread apart on your digits and you began to push them in and out of her, listening to the slick sounds of her liquids squelching on your hand and how she was practically bouncing on your hand. 

“Yeah? Oh, you finally decided to shut the fuck up?” You taunted, and all Ellie could do was cry out. You pumped inside of her a bit faster. “Hmmm, that’s it baby… That’s it, good girl… Fucking love how your pretty pussy stretches on my fingers.” 

Ellie slowly released you and in that moment, you took the upper hand once again. In mere seconds, you were shoving Ellie down into the bed, slotting between her legs, and immediately pushing your fingers back inside of her without letting up. You pushed your knees into the mattress next to her, an arm going over her head as you were hovering away from her face. Your lips were so close to her own and she kept trying to meet them for a kiss but all you did was drag the tip of your tongue over her mouth and teased her while fucking her into the mattress.

“Alright, let’s see…” You breathed down and Ellie fisted her hands into the sheets, her moans spurring you forward as you twisted your fingers around inside of her cunt, stroking along her inner walls to see if you could make her go from soft moans to full on screams which you would need to silence anyway with how fucking thin the walls were in her shed. 

“Wha– What are you– AH! Fuck! ” 

“There it is,” You leaned down and pressed your lips on Ellie’s before you began a brutal pace, pumping your thick fingers into her pussy and hitting her sweet spot with every movement you made. Her screams were muffled by your mouth and you pressed your tongue down against hers, tracing the grooves in her teeth and hissing at her bite down on your bottom lip. “Hmm? That feel good baby?” 

Normally Ellie would snap, or she would have some clever retort or insult for you, but not this time. Ellie just groaned and nodded, eyes rolling back in her head and her inner walls clenching down on your fingers. It didn’t matter though, because you didn’t slow your speed. And when you twisted your wrist, Ellie arched off the bed and into your hand. 

From how bad she was squirming and wiggling around underneath you, and how her moans were growing in pitch, you could tell she was right on the edge, and you wanted nothing more than to push her over. 

“Come on baby,” You got closer and dragged your tongue across her neck and down to her shoulder where you gave a soft little bite into her skin. She squeaked, and it quickly blended into a wanton moan as you slammed your fingers up into her poor stretched out cavern. “Come on, cum for me. I know you want to.” 

“Fffffuck…” Ellie purred, biting down on her bottom lip and trying not to scream bloody murder as you slammed down into her. The beautiful way that her body was rolling into yours, and how she was holding you by the arms, so close to crescendo that she wanted to cry. Not to mention the way you were looking at her like she was about to be devoured like a fucking feast. 

“Go one, scream for me baby,” You leaned down and kissed over her neck, angling yourself so you could press your thumb against her clit and rub at the sensitive bud while thrusting your thick fingers into her. You ignored the cramp in your wrist and refused to let up. Ellie was so fucking close and you wanted to be the one who brought it out of her. “Scream for me. Let everybody in this fucking town know whose fucking you so good.” 

Her hips bucked up into your hand and you half-expected her to actually scream. But no, Ellie had a better idea in mind. Her inner walls squeezed your fingers and her moans grew with pitch before you felt her pulse around the digits, her head going back as she opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. 

You were worried she would actually shriek but Ellie fell forward and bit down on your neck, hissing through the pleasure as you fucked her through the orgasm of her life. Tears began streaking down her face as she whimpered into your flesh and ground her hips down into your touch. 

A bruise would almost certainly be left behind on your skin, but you didn’t care. You held her close and gave soft little kisses against your cheek as she had a moment of relief before she felt your fingers still moving and she immediately grabbed for your wrist to make you stop. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck, stop stop stop,” She pleaded, forcing your hand to still as she looked down at you, breathing hard and shaking with aftershocks of euphoria. Very carefully, you pulled your fingers out of her cunt and gave her clit a few more rubs before retracting completely and rubbing at her inner thighs. “Jesus fucking Christ…” 

“Mmm, no, that’s not my name baby,” You teased, kissing her jaw and falling down next to her. Ellie scoffed, but was still smiling when she smacked your arm. You giggled and rested your chin on her shoulder, kissing at her sweat covered skin. “Wanna tell me now?” 

Ellie huffed and looked over at you while wiping the tears away from her eyes. “T-Tell you what.” 

“Why you didn’t want me with you on patrol,” You sat up a little and she blushed at seeing you were still in your underwear compared to her. “I find it hard to believe that this is the reason. Unless you like me that much…” Her silence was not comforting and you continued to jeer her. 

“Am I to believe you didn’t want me there because you wanted to fuck me that bad?” 

“No, dumbass, that’s not–” Ellie put both hands over her face and she sighed. “I can’t get you hurt again…”

You slowly laid down next to her and took one of her hands away from her face. “I’m the reason you got hurt… It was my fucking fault, and I don’t want it to happen again.” 

Almost instantly, you were leaning up and pressing a kiss to her lips all over again. Ellie whined against your mouth and slid her fingers into your hair, gently scratching the base of your scalp and making you groan on her mouth. 

When you broke the kiss, you pushed those auburn bangs away from her forehead and stroked down the side of her face, touching her in the most gentle possible way to convey that you could be gentle sometimes and not always be a hard-ass like she said you were. 

“Ellie… If it meant that you were safe, I would risk my life ten times over just for you.” 

Your words resonated inside of her, shaking her to the core as she blushed and took one of your hands into her grasp and kissed the inside of your wrist. This time, it was your turn to blush as she looked up and gave one final kiss before releasing your hand. 

“Don’t die for me, princess.” 

“No,” You chuckled. “I’d rather live for you, baby.” 

[chrisbesitos]

younger! Reader having a pregnancy scare and she’s freaking out while Chris is just happy he might be a dad(she ended up not being preggo 🙁)

"I'm really worried about you, doll." Chris says, helping you to get back in the bed after spit out all your breakfast. He lightly rubs your hands, while you give him a weak smile, trying to tell him you're doing fine, even though you're not. You lay your head on the pillow, inhaling the scent of Chris in the bed sheets, the boy brushes your hair off your pale face. "You can handle anything in your stomach since monday."

"I'm probably just having a stomach bug, I'll be fine soon." You say, your voice sounds rasp, Chris groans rolling his blue eyes, really worried about how you're doing lately. Suffering with headaches, puking your meals and he's pretty sure your period is late, because you didn't complain about any cramps this month yet. He's really thinking about this.

Like, he knows you're only nineteen, but he also knows you sometimes fuck raw and even though you take pills, sometimes accidents happens.

"Doll, you're sure this is not — you know." Chris hums, you frown your eyebrows in confusion, lifting your body to stare at him better. Chris sighs, holding your waist to help you to sit, he rests his hand on your thigh.

"This is not what?" You ask, genuinely confused about what he's talking about. Chris lowered his eyes, looking at your belly covered with his blue hoodie, you follow his eyes, staring at your body too. You widen your eyes once you realize what he's talking about. Definitely no. "Chris, no. I'm pretty sure I'm not pregnant."

"You don't know!" He groans. You take a deep breath, shaking your head, giggling lightly. This is crazy, you're not pregnant, Chris' just overreacting on your sickness. "Look, you're throwing up, getting more tired and I know your period is late." He points, sounding a bit desperate. You cup his cheeks, smiling soft and shaking your head again.

"Baby, I'm on birth control and my period is not late." You say, trying to relax your desperate boyfriend. Chris opens his mouth, but you cover his lips with your thumbs. "I'm just having bad days, probably because I'm getting more stressed with my exams. Don't put this on your head, pretty."

"You should take a test to make sure."

"Stop saying this, okay? I'm definitely not pregnant." You giggle, kissing Chris' lips.

You're not pregnant, or you are? Your stomach bug is still making you puke your meals, now your period is really late by some days. Maybe Chris is right, maybe you're growing a baby in your uterus. The idea of being pregnant makes you feel scared, you're only nineteen, you definitely can't have a baby, not now. Chris is still worried, he bought a pregnancy test the other day, but he didn't say anything, because he knows you'd deny taking the test.

Sitting on the couch, rubbing your own arms, after throwing up again. Chris brings you a glass of water, his worried eyes staring at your soul. He kneeled down in front of you, rubbing your knee.

"Maybe I'm pregnant." You murmur, your voice cracking, almost sounding like a whisper. Chris frowns his eyebrows, resting the glass on the coffee table, he holds your hands and rests them on your thigh. "Maybe you're right."

"You want to take a test?" He asks, rubbing your small hands. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out, only a weak sight. He takes this as a 'yes', he squeezes your hands before lift and walks towards his room to take the test he's been hiding in the bathroom cabinet. He walks back, sitting by your side and handing you the box.

"I'm scared, Chris." You whisper, he nods grabbing your chin to give you a peck on your lips. You smile, a weak smile trying to be positive. You don't want to be pregnant.

"I'm here with you, doll. It doesn't matter if it's positive or negative, I'll be by your side." Chris cups your cheeks, your eyes getting glassy by the fear of being a mother at nineteen, but Chris' words help you to calm down a bit.

You walk to Matt's bathroom, Chris waits for you outside. You take the test with your hands shaking, your heart racing and your lips trembling. Outside of the bathroom, Chris is thinking about you being pregnant, he wants to be a dad and wants to grow a family with you. Of course he's scared, he doesn't know how to take care of the baby, but he'll figure it out. He's thinking about all of this and he doesn't know if you're really pregnant, but in case you are, he's already ready for the news.

"Chris?" You call, the test upside down on the sink. Chris comes in, holding your shoulders and rubbing lightly. "I didn't look yet, I'm too scared."

"We're gonna figure it out, babydoll. Trust me." Chris says, picking the test and looking at the visor. His smile fades when he sees the result, you widen your eyes picking the test from his hand. Your body instantly relaxes, you were freaking out.

Negative. You're not pregnant.

"Thank God, I was shitting my pants." You smile, resting your head on Chris' shoulder. "We're not gonna be parents, at least for a while." You sigh, genuinely happy for not carrying a baby. But Chris looks kinda. . . Upset? You frow your eyebrows, putting the test back in the sink, you hold your boyfriend's hands and give him a kiss on the chin. "Baby, you want me to be pregnant? Be honest."

"Hm, no — I mean, I kinda like the idea of having a kid with you." He says, you smile nodding with your head. You let it go his hands and cup his cheeks. "I would like to be a dad."

"Oh, baby. I would love to be a mom and have kids with you, but we're too young for this. In a couple years, when we have our own place, we can think about a baby." You brush your thumb on his cheek, offering a soft smile. Even though you're only nineteen, you're really mature. Your words make Chris smile and nod, that's okay for him. Having a baby in a couple years, he'll remember this. "I love you, baby."

"I love you so much more, babydoll. Mother of my future kids."

꩜ chérie's notes: y/n is not pregnant and chris' upset :(((( poor baby, just want a baby to call he dad.

taglist ; @lizzymacdonald06 @lushjunkie @sweetreliever @watercolorskyy @ivysturnss @brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @gabri3la-sturns @stvrnzcherries @unknvhx @pvssychicken @all4l0vee @i4longhairchris @sluttybitchformattsturniolo @sophand4n4 @sturniololetstrip2 @zayluvss @sturnsmia @sofieeeeex @ifwdominicfike @planettori @jetaimevous @leclecwifey16 @mattswifeyx @joclyn240 @voqueflms @pepsicola-pussy @sturnobsessedwh0re @chrissturnioloswifeee @sturniolossss @imonlyhereformattfluff @sturniolosluttt

masterlist. | taglist.

[cobaltperun]

Darkest Part (4) - Died In Your Arms

Astrid Deetz x female Reader

Summary: You will never, in life or afterlife, if such a thing exists, meet anyone as infuriating, rage inducing, entitled, or frankly awful, as Astrid fucking Deetz. There isn’t a single thing you’d like more than to never be around her, but as your luck would have it, you just can’t stay away from her.

Masterlist / First part / Previous Part

Word count: 5.3k

-Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight, it must've been some kind of kiss, I should've walked away-

This was a good life, hot chocolate, paper taped to the desk as you drew your third sketch of the building you had in mind. Away from all the worries and for a moment free from any obligations.

“How’s it going?” your mom came up to you and leaned over to kiss your cheek.

“Mom, you shouldn’t-“ she didn’t wince, her back didn’t hurt, yeah, it would end soon, and you desperately wanted it to continue. Wanted things to get better, wanted her to be healthy again.

Your phone had other ideas, as the alarm rang and the sound of it startled you awake. Curse your need to constantly change your alarm ringtone, otherwise you’d get used to it and sleep right through it. This new one was ridiculously awful, like someone constantly ringing the bell, but it got the job done. “Am I ever going to wake up well-rested again?” you wondered, feeling like you barely slept a wink. You just couldn’t get used to this house.

Well, considering the tales about it, maybe that wasn’t that strange.

Or it was just the reasonable explanation.

As it was, last night your exhausted body just collapsed onto the bed and you fell asleep, and then got woken up by the chill of the night, because of course you were too tired to cover yourself. What followed was you spending way too long trying to warm up. Winter River indeed, it really was cold. Why couldn’t this be some pleasant warm place, somewhere you could still go around wearing short sleeves instead of already needing several layers of clothing.

The only thing worse than the cold was the Chihuahua that was also in the house. “Why the fuck would I let her be on my mind first thing in the morning?” you slapped your forehead, now even more annoyed. Of all the people you could have thought of at the start your day, it had to be her.

Annoyed, you threw the covers off and immediately came to regret it as the cold air made you shiver. On second thought you should probably stay in bed a bit longer, so you went back under the covers into the warm escape from the chilling cold. You swiftly unlocked your phone and figured you might as well check up on your mom and Alex. You sent each of them a message asking how they were and if everything was fine and put your phone away. It was still too early to call them and if you had to be awake it didn't mean you had to wake them up too.

~X~

Halfway through the day and a lot of packing later, you sat down at the table exhausted with the hot cup of tea in front of you. You really needed that as the warmth of the tea seemed to seep into your very soul. Actually, you also needed a blanket around your shoulders and the nice warm fire accompanied by perhaps movie. It's been a while since you've watched ‘Kill, Baby, Kill’ and you were really in the mood for it after these past few days.

Seeing your favorite movie again would probably make your life a tiny bit better.

No, instead of that you had to deal with someone rather happy getting inside the house with an obvious bounce to their steps. You raised your head, confused and for a moment even terrified that someone actually broke in and just didn't care about making noises. And then that someone walked through the door into the dining room and you would have been a lot happier if it was a burglar.

No. Instead it was the fucking Chihuahua what a wide, frighteningly bright, and happy grin on her face and the world was going to end any moment now. You were fairly sure, and not at all being too dramatic, that Astrid Deetz, also known as Chihuahua, being this obviously happy was one of the eleven signs of the apocalypse.

“Oh, of course you're here. Well, it doesn't matter, not even you can ruin my mood,” she just  walked past you, still happy, and not throwing insults at you. She didn’t do anything! Absolutely nothing! Not even glaring at you and you could not remember the last time you were this frightened.

You scrambled to your feet and rushed outside. “Delia!” you cried out hoping the woman would have some kind of help for you maybe some medicine for hallucinations or a plausible explanation or anything really as long as it helped. You desperately needed someone to convince you that just made what happened up in your head!

It was all in your head. There was no other explanation, which made it even more concerning because Astrid Deetz being in your head and part of your hallucinations was not a good sign for you. Frankly, at this point you had no idea which was worse, Astrid being happy or you thinking about the damn Chihuahua to the point of hallucinating seeing her happy.

~X~

“Damn it Delia, why couldn’t you just get this delivered to the damn house?!” you hissed, a lot like the creatures inside the box you were currently carrying. You knew you had fear of heights before, but apparently you also had a fear of snakes. Which was made a lot worse by the sounds the snakes were making and you were praying that the people Delia bought the snakes from didn't scam her and actually defanged them.

Sure, in theory you were safe. The box was sealed, and safe, but your brain still came up with frightening scenarios. As safe as the box probably was you were still frightened that they would somehow find their way out and bite you and you did not want to die due to snake bites.

‘How many times am I going to risk my life in one single week?’ you wondered, and you really shouldn't have because you had a few more times before the end of this trip.

You finally reached the house and couldn’t have been happier to see it as you rushed up the stairs and set the box on the table for Delia to do whatever she intended to do with the snakes. You really hoped she wouldn't make you go with her because at that point you might actually think staying with Rory would be more pleasant. And just to be safe you immediately turned to Delia when she walked into the room. “I'm done with the snakes, I did my part the rest is up to you,” you urgently informed her before she could get more great ideas.

Delia just laughed. “They are defanged, don't worry,” apparently they were, you weren’t about to check.

You slumped slightly, doing your best puppy eyes to get her to let you stay out of this. “I am still not comfortable around snakes, so please don’t ask me to help you with them,” well at least she didn't look like she would push you to join her as she smiled and patted you on the shoulder.

“Come on, I'm not that cruel,” she smiled at you and then shook her head in amusement at the relief showing on your face. “I thought it would be a good experience is for you to watch, but it’s fine if you don’t. Oh and Y/N, you can rest tonight, you don't even have to go to the wedding,” she was telling you one good news after the other. “We have a few more things to do tomorrow morning and then you can go back home,” Delia surprise you but maybe you should have expected it. She had her moments of kindness and you've been on the receiving end plenty of times, despite all the less pleasant, more dangerous and difficult moments you had with her.

“Thanks Delia, I really appreciate it,” you told her as Astrid joined the two of you.

“Snakes?” Astrid looked at the content of the box, surprised by what she saw and for once you couldn't blame her. Personally, you didn't quite get why Delia got them herself but she wanted them and she got them. Something about Ancient Egypt and Pharaohs from what you understood.

“Actually asps,” Delia corrected her, and you had to admit she actually sounded excited about them.

“Why? Are they a wedding gift for Rory?” Astrid asked, hopeful that the answer would be yes.

“Now that would’ve made it worth carrying them,” you knew that wasn’t their purpose but  no one could force you to stop happily imagining Rory freaking out over the snakes.

For the first time since you've known her, Astrid actually didn't have a rude remark or an insult for you, and actually just rolled her eyes with a smile which was almost freaky but not exactly an unwelcome change.

“Too late they've be defanged, guaranteed harmless! And they're for me.” Delia shattered your dreams well, yours was never even allowed to begin because you knew from the start what she wanted to do with them. Still for a moment you could hope that she would at least use them as a prank. It’s not like they were one se only! She could use them for more than one thing. After all, she already got them, why not just use them on the bastard as a very funny prank. It would not change anything about the snakes, and they could still be used for the ritual thing she had in mind.

Well, you were left with only your dreams.

You left the two of them to check if there was anything left unpacked, you were just about to head back upstairs when Lydia rushed down and you turned around, not sure how to react to the frantic woman.

“You got your wish, we're leaving! Pack up your things, I'm driving you back to school,” Lydia seemed absolutely frantic, like she just saw a ghost, which, well, she was supposed to be able to see them. You watched from the stairs as she went by you and toward the front door

“Wait! What happened” Astrid called after her.

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” Lydia denied answering Astrid’s question.  That actually made sense, especially if it had something to do with ghosts, which this house apparently had at one point. So going by their relationship and the issues Astrid had with her mother you guessed it was something paranormal in question.

Delia, however, did not make that connection. “Oh you're calling off the wedding?” she went after Lydia outside and just for a moment you and Astrid exchanged looks do you just shrugged finally realizing that you couldn't even begin to try and have a normal conversation with her. That's how used you were to just fights and banter and insults and everything that came along with this hatred between you.

Eventually you just pointed at yourself then point upstairs and then point at her and outside. The message being clear, you would, rather regrettably, check up on Rory while she would go and check up on her mother.

To that Astrid, just as unsure of how to interact with you like a normal human being, just went and gave you a thumbs up and you both went your separate ways, one up the stairs to the attic and the other outside to talk to her mother.

~X~

Lydia was stuck in the office, just contemplating everything about her and Astrid’s relationship.

Apparently, her daughter was not gay. In fact, she had a date with a boy. Her first date was with a boy, not with the girl as she expected it would be. Did Lydia really mess up that much that she wasn't even capable of seeing how things actually were? Her daughter, who she believed was gay and actually had a crush on you and was just unable to properly act up on those feelings, threw her a curveball and was going on a date on Halloween night with a boy she met 2 days ago.

How did she miss the signs?

Her concerns were now even bigger because, unlike you, this boy was a complete unknown for Lydia. She didn't know his full name, she didn't know his parents, granted she didn't know your parents either but that was beside the point, she didn't know how he spent his time, what his interests were. She didn't know anyone who knew him, and she was now overthinking it and panicking and was getting even more nervous and afraid for her own daughter because this was a mess, and she was disappointed in herself as a mother for mistaking her daughter’s sexuality.

Maybe Astrid was just bisexual. Maybe. Maybe Lydia just got so deep into preparing for a girlfriend that she forgot that there were other options, all equally daunting for her as the mother of a child that would soon start, that actually just stated dating, and find her own love and heartbreak and everything Lydia herself went through all those decades ago.

Also did her daughter actually just tell her that she crashed through the fence and that's how she met the guy? Like it was just something people did for fun? How did that even happen?

Lydia began breathing deeply, huffing and taking very loud, very deep breaths. She could not go down that train of thought.

~X~

He liked her.

Jeremy liked her. Astrid knew that much, she could see signs that he wanted to kiss her, that he really didn't want to spend any time handing out candies to the kids and instead actually wanted to spend time with her.

And she, at least logically speaking, wasn't opposed to the idea. At least it would prove to her that some feelings she may or may not have were, in fact, not real and just her heart playing with her brain so she would kiss him to prove her heart wrong.

Astrid let him approach her, she felt his hands on her, hugging her and she hugged him back, and he held her like he hasn’t been touched in years. Like he was desperate to feel someone’s touch, someone’s kind and positive touch. Astrid could almost feel his breath on her lips and then she just couldn't do it, because there was an infuriating Barnacle plaguing her thoughts at that very moment.

She pulled away, separating from him even though she knew how it looked. “Sorry I just I think we are rushing too fast into this,” she apologized and he seemed understanding at first. At least from the looks of it, he just turned to the window and looked rejected “I'm not saying I'm opposed to kissing you eventually, but we just met two days ago,” she tried to cheer him up but then he turned to face her.

“No, you’re right, I'm- I'm sorry I just got excited because you can see me and for over 23 years no one saw me and I just thought we had something,” she must have heard him wrong but then she looked down and saw it.

He was floating and that's when she realized all the stories her mother told were actually true and she was actually seeing a ghost these past few days

~X~

You were in the living room, with everyone aside from Astrid and Rory, plus Jane, just lazing around on the sofa and texting Alex. You weren’t in a costume, you had no intention of dressing up for the Halloween.

The truth was, you kind of hated Halloween. Well hate might be a strong word, mostly reserved for Astrid and maybe another thing or two. No the actual word you were looking for regarding Halloween was more like indifference brought upon by that's one time you got dressed as a pumpkin and got teased for by your classmates.

It wasn't fun. It was actually horrific and ever since then you just didn't bother celebrating Halloween. So, what if Astrid was currently on her ridiculous date? It had nothing to do with your current mood. Even if you did hated the guy more than you hated her for some reason. You should have felt sorry for him, after all he was the one who had to deal with being on a date with the Chihuahua.

So, no, you did not care about Astrid being on a date with some random dude.

You just realized you’d be all alone. Delia would be at the cemetery doing whatever she seemed to want to do with the snakes and Lydia would be preparing for her wedding and Rory would be giving out the candy. And you were fine with that. You would just be hanging around on the couch in the living room waiting for Delia to sign all the papers and then you could just go ahead and leave, just start packing what little things you brought here and get ready to go back home. Luckily Delia promised she would arrange a car to come pick you up.

“Where's Rory?” Lydia asked out of blue, almost as if she was asking out of obligation, because she should know where he was and not because she actually had to know where he was. Especially since she had Chihuahua’s first date to worry about.

“Supermarket swapping out the candy I bought for carrot sticks, because Rory loves to fun suck everything even Halloween,” of course Delia did not miss a single chance point out the kind of person Rory was, because Lydia apparently couldn’t see him for who he really was. Even if it didn’t change anything you figured she did feel the need to, in her own way, warn her stepdaughter about him because as far as you knew telling Lydia that Rory was not who he was presenting himself as wasn't working. “Gotta run, see you at the church,” she turned back to Lydia and with a hopeful look added. “Unless you're calling off the wedding.”

“No Delia,” Lydia sighed and just noticed Delia was leaving, that was how focused on Astrid she was. “Wait, why are you going to the cemetery?” Lydia asked. It just crossed your mind that she in her panic earlier today did not see the snakes Delia bought.

“To commune with my dear husband spirit,” was all Delia needed to say. She quickly waved at you and was on her way leaving you alone with Lydia and Jane and from the looks of it, Jane was going to leave soon so that would just leave you and Lydia alone in the house for a while. At least until she would go and get Astrid. Oh, and until Rory came back.

Still, it could be fun. You haven't had the chance to be on your own wait the Lydia Deetz and you actually were curious about her. And it had nothing to do with maybe not wanting to be alone while a certain Chihuahua was on a date with a guy she met two days ago, while she spent so damn long hating you. Yeah, that had nothing to do with it.

Nothing at all!

You did not care where that stupid Chihuahua was or how quickly she fell in love like dumb ass.

“The closest we ever got to Disney was when Astrid dressed as Cinderella’s dead mom,” you absolutely did not filter out what Jane mentioned about her daughter and scouts or whatever group her daughter was in and you absolutely did not think Astrid’s costume sounded exactly like her.

Jane said something something fruit salad mortgage something something non triggering and then asked the question that was annoying the hell out of you, that is, she asked where Astrid was.

Lydia had this soft, yet somber smile on her face. “On a date,” she said, like a parent learning to accept their child was growing up. “Her first. I think I'm more nervous than she is. The boy lives over on Jefferson,” Lydia really did sound nervous when she said that, and you guessed between their rocky relationship and all the things that happened Astrid’s first date at this moment wasn’t something Lydia was entirely prepared for.

Something something perfect sales records something something on the market for years something something once more you're pretty much tuning out the words of the woman the Deetz family hired to sell their house. And you were doing good, tuning her out, that is until she said three words: the murder house and you immediately sat up and stopped texting Alex. A sinking feeling inside of your guts was almost telling you to pay attention because you just had a bad feeling about what was going to they said next.

“Murder house? Which house?” Lydia asked now frantic and you sort of pieced together that's maybe the house show left Astrid at wasn't that far off from looking like a murder house. Because if the house looked normal and if Lydia you got to see the parents or that boy she would not be looking this afraid right now.

“125,” James said and just from the look of Lydia's face you knew that was the house Astrid was in and so you jumped to your feet and rushed to get the car keys.

“Fucking hell Chihuahua, what did you get yourself into?” just as you've got the keys you saw Lydia rushing out. “I'm going with you!” you quickly told her and followed after her into the car. The woman was clearly in shock but all she cared about was just getting to Astrid, nothing else mattered.

You did not dare to tell her you would get there in time. You had no idea how all of this worked, sure you believed in ghosts and you've been seeing glimpses of strange things throughout your life. You still had no idea how any of that actually functioned. You had no idea if they could harm Astrid.

If the guy she was with was bad news then she probably was in danger and especially if Lydia, the most competent person to judge if her daughter was in danger from ghosts was also panicking. “He killed his parents 23 years ago!” okay, Astrid was definitely in danger. “If I just didn’t let her into that house, if I just went in with her! What kind of mother am I if something happens to her-“ Lydia was mostly talking to herself.

“Hey, wait, wait, don't go there you couldn't know!” You tried to get her to calm down. “You're the expert but you couldn't know! Just focus on saving her so you can berate yourself later,” you needed her focused because if she wasn't, you had no hopes of getting Astrid back in time. And you really, as much as you didn't like Astrid, did not want her dead or in danger.

~X~

The moment the car began slowing down in front of the house you just ran out, without even waiting for it to stop and ran up the stairs ignoring the for sale sign in front of the house. You ended up bursting through the doors so hard the handle might have gotten a bit damaged because the doors were old.

You stumbled when you entered the house, you felt sick for a moment when you saw the man. But you did not see him clearly, it was like there was a mist around him.

"Astrid!" Lydia yelled and it snapped you out of your confusion. That man was a ghost, mist meant ghost, at least at this stage of your ability to see ghosts. So, you rushed right through the woman going down the stairs.

"Wait! Deetz!" you yelled as loud as you could as you ran up the stairs two steps at a time. You saw the light and broke through the door, but Astrid just walked through something.

"What the? Barnacle?" your eyes met and you reached out to her but the ghost guy grabbed her forearm and pulled her along and the portal closed before you could reach out and grab her hand.

"Astrid!" Lydia cried out, but it was too late as well.

If only she reached out to you. For the first time since you met her you cursed yourself for not being at least civil with her. "Damn it!" you slammed your fist on the old table, right next to some thick book. "What do we do now?"

Lydia grabbed the book on the table, your outburst probably caught her attention. "Come on, I have a crazy idea," you saw uncertainty in her eyes, fear that maybe not even what she had in mind would be enough, but she had to hope. You both rushed down the stairs, every second mattered and you couldn't waste time on just talking. "Can you drive?" she asked, clearly intending to go through the book.

"Of course," you nodded and ran to the car, starting the engine once more as Lydia sat down next to you.

~X~

You had no time to waste, as you drove around the house and parked the car right in front of the entrance to the house, not even caring that you would somewhat block the path for the kids. They could avoid the car, it didn't matter, you just had to be quick and find a way to rescue Astrid, so up to the stairs you drove.

“Y/N?! Where’s the rush? You're nearly drove into the house!” Rory exclaimed as he was on top of the stairs preparing to hand out the candy to the kids, but you just ran past him not really wasting a moment to stop and chat. You didn’t even turn the engine off, just parked the car.

Lydia gave him some excuse or whatever as you both rushed upstairs. She already told you where to go so you just grabbed the crowbar on the way upstairs and started removing the boards Delia and Lydia put there just an hour or so ago. By the time Lydia came up the stairs as well you were almost done and you both pulled the last wooden board out of the way and went into the attic and from that point on you could only watch her as she found the solution.

The first thing that caught your eye was the small scale model of Winter River, done in amazing detail, and if things were any different you would have spent hours studying it.

“I can't believe I'm doing this,” she took a deep breath. “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice!” you had no idea what was going on as she repeated that word? Name? Whatever it was three times.

And then the freakiest thing happened the mist slash smoke surrounding the paranormal vanished from your vision as the zombie-looking guy with green hair and striped suits and rather unhealthy-looking skin emerged from the Winter River model. “The juice is loose,” he said and vanished, only to appear right next to Lydia.

“I need you to tell me what this means,” she skipped the formalities and just showed him the pages of the book she found in that room where Astrid was.

“Let's have a look,” he pulled out a magnifying glass. “Long story short, your daughter is screwed,” well, fuck! “She decided to trade lives with a boy, he gets to come back while she's stuck on the other side, permanently. One way ticket to the Soul Train,” this guy, Beetlejuice, explained and you were just absolutely confused about what was going on. Afterlife actually existed, and people could come back.

More importantly… “She did what?! Why would she do that? Who does that?” you demanded. Astrid was smart! What did that ghost offer her to make her accept giving up her life? Or did he just outright trick her? “Shit, we need to get her back,” you turned away from Lydia and Beetlejuice and ran your hand through your hair, not even sure you would make it in time.

“The Soul Train?” Lydia asked for further explanations.

“That's right! The last stop, The Great Beyond,” he said and you just leaned back against the wall. Was there even anything you could do at this point? Astrid was on the other and you were over here in the living world. But then again Beetlejuice was from that other world. Was that why Lydia called him? Because he could somehow move the two of you into the world of the dead?

Wait, were you about to go into the world of the dead for Astrid? Not knowing the risks, or the consequences, or if it would be dangerous? You knew nothing about it, it was a complete unknown that you weren’t even sure existed five minutes ago!

Somehow you knew the answer was yes. You would take all those risks to take her back, because you plain and simple couldn’t live with yourself if you just let her die.

“Can we go in after her?” You asked as you once more turned toward Lydia and Beetlejuice.

“Quid pro quo, I want something in return,” while he replied to you he was looking at Lydia, as if he would only accept something from her.

Maybe those were the rules? Since she summoned him?

“Of course you do. What do you want?” Lydia asked ready to give him anything he asked for as long as it would save her daughter.

“Well I've got this ex-wife-“ Beetlejuice began and you've spent enough time with Delia and you knew a tangent when you saw one.

“Get to the point!” You exclaimed. Each second could be vital in keeping Astrid alive, and you did not want to waste it on his tangents.

“You want me to marry you,” Lydia knew what he wanted, and you just turned to look at her because what the fuck was that about? How would that even work? All of this was too much and the only reason you were keeping your sanity was because you had a goal in mind.

You weren’t sure you’d be keeping your sanity for much longer as so you watched this Beetlejuice act like getting married was Lydia's idea, like she just proposed to him because she wanted that. And then he made her sign some contract because apparently, he needed that in writing. You were in the most absurd situation possible and you half- expected to just wake up and see that everything was fine. Like this was all just a fever dream and you would wake up go to the work at the library you'd see Astrid there being annoying and being a Chihuahua and getting on your nerves and not on the way to swap lives with a ghost and die.

“What's the plan on getting in?” Lydia had enough of his bullshit as well and just demanded to know how you all would get in.  

Beetlejuice just vanished again and appeared in front of the wall, crouching and drawing a bomb with the fuse. He then just went and lit his thumb on fire. This was all absolutely ridiculous because the drawn fuse just lit on fire and the bomb exploded and instead of looking outside of the house you were looking into some office.

“Deetz, you're gonna be the death of me,” you said, ready to just go through.

“Trust me kid I know the feeling,” Beetlejuice said.

“I did not ask,” fuck it, you were going in, and you were not getting out without Astrid.

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