#but my brain isn't working too much right now
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raichukfm · 1 day ago
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It's a fascinating question and the answer doesn't speak to it at all. We're talking about swapping perceptions, you know, the hypothetical thing that could answer those "What if my blue is your red?" ponderings. Were that the case and you were to swap, you would start seeing everything red as blue and vice versa, but you would be able to tell this. That's a controversial point, but we aren't proposing a full qualia inversion here; your internal concepts of red and blue haven't changed, just the way that your brain maps sensory stimuli to your qualia has. You can imagine red, and it's red as you have always imagined it, you just look at a red delicious apple and you see it as blue. (Actually a fascinating question whether people would agree with this assessment, and has me wondering about people with aphantasia specifically about if they think their 'red as they have always imagined it' can be separated from the way things with that color look to them. I'm getting off track.)
But this swap is different. Semiotics refers to the meanings that things have; for instance, the way you are looking at these squiggles or hearing these sound waves and taking them as a message. I am intending a meaning now as I type these words out, and you are taking away a meaning as you perceive them, and though it won't quite be the same meaning it is related. There's a question of where exactly the meaning you perceive is; is it in the message itself? Is it just contained in the context around it? Was it put there by me? Is it only there when you read or hear it?
And now specifically we're talking about abstract objects, things which aren't concrete; for instance, words as words, not images or sounds but the thing that those patterns invoke. Things where it is already an interesting philosophical question about how exactly it is that they exist. (For those with the bent to ponder it and not just go 'Uh, they just do, duh' because yeah that's fair.) And that's just one example of an abstract object. It's not all messages. There are numbers. There are complex mathematical objects, like groups and rings and fields. Are things like "peace" abstract objects?
If we do this swap of perceptions, so you perceive the meaning of an abstract thing to be the meaning that I perceive... What are you perceiving, exactly? Is it the thing anymore? Is this even truly a swap of perceptions or is it rather a swap of thoughts? If you took one piece of my mental model of the world and swapped it out with one of yours, how would it fit in? Would it fit in at all? It's fascinating.
The world isn't shrouded in darkness. There's not some blinding fog that has settled over everything. You can observe the world, make sense of parts of it, peer into its mysteries and try to think of answers. Yeah, it's confusing and a lot of pieces of it are out of reach but that's just because the world is so fucking big and complicated and so many parts we simply lack the faculties to possess. This question is that lovely kind of philosophical pondering that is fundamentally unresolvable and by all rights has no practical purpose... But we can still talk about it, and in talking about it, we can share ideas and work through how it is we think of things. If nothing else, we can enjoy ourselves. And that's as practical a purpose as anything else.
Don't see something you can't think of how to answer and decide that it cannot be answered and that now is a time to shrink away to safe thoughts that can be trusted. Ponder whatever bullshit that strikes your fancy, and try to think about what the answers would be. Even if you can fundamentally never find out if you're right or wrong, the thinking itself is a worthwhile exercise. Encourage other people to do it too, though don't try to force it; different people have their own sorts of funtime questioning. I've got things like this, some people have how much prep time Batman would need to defeat Shrek in a fight.
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equally confounded and obsessed by this quora question and response that i just stumbled onto
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yourloyalwatchdog · 1 day ago
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coming up to you while you're scrolling through tumblr on your phone. such an intelligent little pet... let me ruin that for you.
"hi, my dumb puppy." i say as i pet your head.
your thumb stops moving for a beat as your brain accepts my command to your subconscious.
then you blink and continue to scroll. "hey!" you smile when i sit beside you. you don't even register that i said anything to you other than a simple 'hi'.
it happens so subtly, do you even notice how you're already scrolling less? you spend more and more time on each post as it takes your mind longer to register them. the bigger words become harder to pronounce. you don't even recognize a word as hard as "conditioning", which is ironic, because that's exactly what i've done to you.
your eyebrows scrunch up all cutely as whole sentences lose their meaning. you stop scrolling soon enough. now you're stuck rereading that one post over and over and struggling to figure out what it says. but of course, it only makes less sense every time you read it while your vocabulary continues to shrink, until the language becomes something completely foreign altogether. it doesn't mean anything at all anymore.
you put your phone down, beyond frustrated by your own stupidity. your eyes are wary as they flicker over me. i cock my head to the side. "is something wrong, puppy?"
your eyes glaze over for another moment. then another blink, and you're trying to stare into my brain, decipher the tiny hint of mockery in my tone.
"you..." your mind is hard at work trying to translate your racing thoughts into speech. and it's failing. "what... you... do to... me..."
you shift in your seat, rubbing your legs together as heat swells up in your core. as your confusion grows, so does the arousal, because you like to be dumb. you and i both know that. even if you can't quite think that hard right now.
"what do you mean, love? i didn't do anything to you."
"the– i–" your frustration grows, and your ability to articulate what's happening to you diminishes.
your pointless stuttering turns into a needy whimper, which i take great amusement in. "oh, i think i know what the problem is now," i chuckle. "is my dumb puppy in heat?"
your mind has completely slipped away from you now. you let out a bark as you buck your hips, rutting helplessly against the air. your hands reach over to paw at the waistband of my jeans. you don't even know how to get them off me if you tried. that's just too much thinking for a little puppy.
such a pretty thing you are. you pretend to be so smart. a normal, competent person like me. but you're nothing like me. all i have to do is tell you you're my dumb puppy, and every ounce of your humanity leaves you in a matter of minutes. doesn't that mean it was always the truth?
"does puppy need my cock?" i ask. you bark and gaze at me with your best pleading eyes. just a dog begging for a treat.
"well, since you asked so nicely..."
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this story is about a fictional scenario. assume prior consent and negotiation have taken place. do not attempt to recreate this scenario in real life without getting informed consent from and thoroughly negotiating with your play partner. kink without consent and negotiation isn't kink, it's abuse.
op/author is a trans man and uses he/him pronouns. do with that information what you will.
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bonbonly · 2 days ago
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not sure which driver would fit this (maybe carlos or max?) but something about them degrading you so much to the point he buys nipple clamps that connect to a chain. so he treats you like a dog, pulling on your chain to make you move—and each time he does, your nipples harden even more, slick dripping down your pussy……… ohh my god
bon's thoughts (18+) i'm putting this in the boss!lewis x secretary!reader universe because that's all i can see right now
you've been pretty upset the whole month having to deal with lewis edging you and never letting you cum, so you plan an entire thing where you're going to get your payback. your vibrators are all broken with the amount of times you've had to cum in the middle of the night in your apartment after every day of an excruciating day at work where lewis was torturing you like crazy.
so one day during your lunch break, lewis passes by the break room to get a cup of coffee only to instead see you bouncing on another intern's dick, screaming in ecstasy as you stare at lewis the entire time saying "fuck, i'm cumming, i'm cumming!"
and he's biting the inside of his cheek, nodding his head at you. ok, if you wanted to be office slut he'd let you be the office slut. he calls you to his office later in the day, and you walk in adjusting your pencil skirt and stretching your arms, "oh it feels good to have someone's cum dripping down my thighs. so much better when i get to cum too!"
"sit your ass down before i have you fired," lewis rolls his eyes and you smirk at him. he'd never fire you, he has way too much fun with you, "take off your clothes, now."
"but it's the middle of the work day? i have work to get back to, which you gave me remember?" you scoff, and he shakes his head at your attitude,
"run that mouth of yours one more time and i'll buy a ball gag to match this..." he pauses, pulling out a box from his drawer and he holds up nipple clamps. you gasp out loud, standing up,
"nuh uh, i'm not wearing that. lewis, it's bad enough that i have to sit down on a vibrating cock every day when i work, not this...." you cross your arms, pouting at him and he stands up to walk over to where you stand,
"first of all, it's mr. hamilton, you keep forgetting that i'm your boss, not your boyfriend. second of all, this isn't a request, love," he grabs your blouse, ripping the buttons off of you before unclasping your bra and tossing it onto his chair. you struggle against his arms, mainly because it's fun to see him get more pissed at you for being disobedient and he flips you onto your stomach which causes you to moan at the feeling of the cold table pressed against your tits, "you're such a slut, honestly, who even let you into the workforce?"
he giggles under his breath, tugging your skirt and panties down before dragging you down to the ground. he rolls your nipples between his thumbs, loving the way you're gasping and squirming under his touch before reaching out and grabbing the nipple clamps and placing them on you.
"finally, god, you always make this so much harder on yourself," and he sits back down behind his desk, tugging the chain that connects the clamps towards him and you moan out loud, rubbing your thighs together for some friction, "of course you're into this. your brain's just empty at this point with the amount of times i didn't let you cum so now you're into sick shit like this to get you off, right?"
you can't even process his words because you want to feel him inside you, and every time he tugs at the clamps harder, calling you a dirty whore, you're whining about how you want him to fuck you, you want to feel his cum coating your walls. that's enough for him to toss you onto his lap, letting you straddle him. he places the chain in his mouth, biting down into the metal and occasionally jerking his head back to let the clamps pinch your nipples a little more harder than before and when he slides his aching cock inside you, you're letting out a wanton moan that echoes through the entire office. you're sure everyone can hear you. and probably can now see you because lewis at his desk presses a button to let the blinds unveil the sin he's committing. he wants the entire place to know that you're his, and only his.
"this is what you wanted? you wanted to get fucked? you wanted me to fuck your brains out until you're just another dumb whore to take my cum, yeah? you're doing all this just so you can cum, yeah you're gonna cum," his hips snap against yours in a brutal pace, and you're crying at how intense this feels. you scream out loud as his thumb rubs harsh circles on your sensitive nub, and you're cumming around his cock for the first time, feeling like you're on cloud nine. he took his words to heart though, because he's still fucking you, his grip on you tightening, "i'm going to make you cum again and again until you're begging me to stop, oh fuck, you're going to regret riding that intern love."
you don't know how many times you've cum, and you're pleading with him telling him that you can't take it anymore but he flips you onto your stomach and starts rutting into you once more. you glance out the window of the door to see the intern just staring at you with wide eyes and he walks away, his cheeks turning red.
"i thought you wanted to cum? you spent all this time whining and crying about how i never let you cum! and now that i'm letting you, you're telling me to stop? make up your mind. unless you're too fucked out that your dumb brain can't think properly, is that it sweetheart? is my cock too much for you?" he laughs in your ear, and you're wailing out loud as you cum for another time, squirting all over his desk as he smacks your ass for making such a big mess. he wraps his hand around you to tug at your clamps and you whine out loud.
he takes you home with him that night, refusing to let you take those clamps off. "we're far from done, love. don't forget that."
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agrlsname · 2 days ago
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Thank you @therealsaintscully for the tag! I'm soon about to post what might be my very last fic, so it's quite fitting to look back on my journey now.
How many works do you have on ao3?
38 – all Johnlock, except for one GO fic. On New Year's Eve I will post number 39!
What’s your total word count?
371,360 (will soon top it off with another 221 words ;))
What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
What Friends Do (by FAR), Who I Really Am (personal fave), The General Idea, Coldness/Heat, Tomorrow's Song
Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?
At first I responded to every single one! And I still try to respond to every single person. But now, I sometimes only respond to the last one if it's a reader who's commented on every chapter and I get all the comments at once. I like staying connected to the readers, that's one of the most fun parts about fandom!
What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?
It has to be This Is Your Song. I mean, there's another one within a series that end in an angsty cliffhanger, but MCD surely has to take the prize?
What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?
Oh my, nearly all of them have happy endings – so what would count as happier than happy..? Maybe it's actually the one that isn't posted yet – stay tuned for the resolution of the New Year's Kiss series!
Do you write crossovers?
Nope. I've written a fusion though (Johnlock and Moulin Rouge!).
Have you ever received hate on a fic?
Yup. Some people get really angry at John in What Friends Do and they take it out on me. It's interesting because many MANY others adore the story with all their hearts! I even wrote a sequel from John's POV just to try to get people to understand, but the haters didn't understand anyway.
Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Even though at the beginning I said I'd never, half of my works are now rated E or M. What kind? Um, is "emotional, gay sex" a genre?
Have you ever had a fic stolen?
I hope not!
Have you ever had a fic translated?
Many of them, into five different languages! Coolest thing ever.
Have you ever co-written a fic before?
No, I think I'm too pedantic for that. I've loved working with my beta on some poem translations, though, that The Sky is Full of Fiddles is based on.
What's your all-time favourite ship?
38 fics – you all know it's Johnlock, right? There are others that I love, but nothing can ever compare.
What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?
I don't have WIPs! I'm too much of a control freak and perfectionist when it comes to writing – I want to be able to change the beginning when I'm writing the ending. I don't even have unpublished WIPs – I hate the idea of leaving works unfinished. If I was still in those first years of writing frenzy, when I was single and didn't have a child, I'd have expanded on This Time – but as it is, I knew that I wouldn't have the time to do it justice. So I purposely ended on a cliffhanger that would still allow it to stand on its own the way it is.
What are your writing strengths?
Emotions, according to my beta! If you ask me, I'd say describing things – often emotions, I suppose – in new, poetic ways that play on different senses and therefore make them immediate. It's something I love reading myself, anyway, so it's something I've been practicing for... well, decades now. I'd like to think I've gotten at least somewhat good at it.
What are your writing weaknesses?
I'm weirdly bad at coming up with the small details that aren't important, but needed. A recent example is I needed a character to text another with an invented problem to try to get him to come over. It wasn't at all important what the problem was, but it also couldn't be just anything; it had to be in line with his character. I could not for the life of me come up with this problem myself – eventually my husband did it for me. So those kinds of details in my stories are rarely from my own brain!
What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?
Hmm, well, I've tried not to do that. As a reader I find it annoying to have to look things up, or scroll down to the notes. I have three fics in which characters aren't English; in This Is Your Song I added a couple of "Bonjour"s for flavour, which is about as far as my own French knowledge reaches... In the Fiddles series they're Swedes and speak my mother tongue, but I've written everything in English except for the words that English doesn't have (like for example "polska", a kind of dance), and at the very end, some song lyrics that are then translated into English in the end notes that come immediately after. I did want to add that song for flavour, but I didn't want it to be annoying.
What was the first fandom you wrote for?
Johnlock! I started in the aftermath of season 4 back in January 2017 and then couldn't stop.
What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?
I'm wondering whether I will come back to fic writing at a later point, but for another fandom. I've long wanted to write more for GO, although I already have written one fic. It would probably be a lot of fun to write for OFMD too. Doctor Who maybe? I don't know, it intimidates me to write for a new fandom where I don't yet know the characters as well as I know Sherlock and John.
What's your favourite fic you've written?
This question is too cruel! There are so many of them that I love. Maybe I have to say The Sky is Full of Fiddles, after all – it holds such a special place in my heart for many reasons that go beyond the story itself (although that's true for several fics). Other faves are Your Daughter, The Zebra Sheets and of course Who I Really Am, which I'm liking enough to turn it into a novel I'm now trying to get published. See, I couldn't pick one!!
I'm on Tumblr way too sporadically to have any idea of who's already done this and who hasn't, so I don't dare tag anyone... Feel free to take it and tag me if you feel like it!
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sillygoofyqueer · 4 months ago
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More Heavenly Crowyuan thoughts for both you and @someonewhoreadswaaytoomuchfanfic.
As I was thinking up Heavenly Crow Demon ideas, it occurred to me that regeneration and fire are both things associated with Greek phoenixes. Considering PIDW's insane length, surely at least some of the adventures must have monsters cribbed from other mythologies, right?
With this is mind, there is a good chance Shen Yuan looks at his abilities and thinks something like, "Oh, I must have a grandparent who is a many-lived-regenerating-firebird. There sure were a lot of them in that volcanic demon realm mountain range where Binghe met wife 67." and just never question things further. Since Airplane opted not to include heavenly demon crows in his story, Shen Yuan has no idea they're even a possibility!
As sillygoofyqueer noted before, only heavenly demons naturally have Zuiyin marks, but it's really popular for artists to draw such markings on other sorts of demons too. Because of this, I'm fond of the headcanon that all sorts of demons mark their own foreheads either to denote their status or just for the sake of fashion.
I'm sure crow demons, with their love of shiny things, are happy to paint glittery markings on their foreheads, so they might not find Shen Yuan's natural mark all that odd (beyond perhaps the fact he never changes it). For Shen Yuan himself, since he transmigrated in with clothes and stuff, he probably figures the demon he transmigrated into painted it there before Shen Yuan replaced him.
Supposing the other crows do realize Shen Yuan's heritage, one of my many inspirations for crowyuan are the crows in Tamora Pierce's trickster series. Let me tell you, those crows were not impressed by either royalty or gods. If you want their help with something, you need to bribe them with something shiny!
As such, when they look at heavenly demon crows they probably just think things like, "Man, I wish my feathers came with natural gold tips!" and "That guy sure is helpful when driving off invaders!" but otherwise do not care in the slightest... Unless the heavenly demon crow in question uses their abilities to bully and steal from other crows of course. Then they might agree to offer tribute and some token amount of reverence, but they'll mostly just think that crow is an asshole.
I think this is such a silly funny idea as well, and I love the thought of, instead of worshipping the ground that heavenly demons walk on like most other demons, the extent of crow demons' appreciation ends at "...I want those shiny feathers :(" (imagine a whiney sibling's voice as you read that) and other than that, they really do not care about anything like that.
Also, on the topic of Shen Yuan just brushing off everything weird that hints towards his heritage, I can't stop thinking about the idea of him trying to get used to his own body and figure out what perks it has. Every time he comes across something that isn't mentioned in PIDW, he brushes it off with an "it must have been a fluke" or "well, never doing THAT ever again". For instance, when his arm sets alight and it's healed from a fall or something, he kind of pauses before deciding "well, now I'm hallucinating from the hitting my head" and just goes about his day as if nothing happened. One time he accidentally sets something on fire when he's healing (still believing that he is just regularly hallucinating now) and he stares at the ashes of whatever he burned before just gaslighting himself into believing he had a source of fire that caused the flames rather than him doing it.
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ghost-proofbaby · 10 months ago
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"why can't we see your search history?"
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shirogane-oushirou · 2 months ago
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no promises anymoooooreeeee i'll appear online when i appear online 😭 every time i say "ooh i think life is almost done being overwhelming!" it. becomes even more overwhelming in the dumbest ways. all i can manage rn when i'm not stressing myself into a shut-down state is staring at the wall while listening to youtube essays + mindlessly crocheting.
i might queue up ppls art and fics w/o commentary in the tags... i want other ppl to see what all of my cool friends have made, but i genuinely can't think right now with this monstrous brain fog. i'm really sorry, just. yeah. maybe i'll think of some way to make it up later!!! once the dust has settled!!!! but until then i wuv u and miss u. smiles.
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[venting in tags including familial manipulation and ableism. i. didn't mean to write all of that, thiss was originally going to be a main blog post but. aaaaaAAAAAA!!!!!
also no need for replies or anything, i'd turn them off for just the one post if i could kjsndkn, i just needed to get things out and go eep jsjndsfdn ok bye bye bye bye!!!!]
#goddd my family finds it sooooooo funny that i can't do basic tasks! it's soooo funny that i can't even think of a horror movie to watch#on halloween bc i genuinely can't remember a single one right now. it's soooo funny that i can't take cardboard boxes or#old furniture out of my room without help bc i've physically and mentally and emotionally burnt out for Months.#and me not being able to move shit out after two (2) days makes me a hoarder somehow. and ofc hoarding is a moral failing#and my mom has to give me a stern talking-to about hoarding things... that were. again. in my room for 2 days....#[tbc it isnt a moral failing no matter the reason. life is hard and things happen and it can be hard to get rid of things for Reasons.]#nevermind them making constant snide remarks about me using ugly 'mismatched' desk / storage furniture. bc it was free / cheap? no income??#AND!!!!! i have a couple of new diagnoses. which doesn't change much day to day but it does make my family making fun of me#even more dumbfounding. like. this explains a lot of really scary unexplained symptoms that constantly leave me#housebound for weeks but uhhh haha hehe hoho??? so silly so funny that i'm barely conscious for multiple weeks???#and you can see that i'm getting worse but that makes it funnier??? hmm!!!#also nevermind that i've told them the exact reason why i've been like this (read: them) but that ALSO makes it funnier somehow.#but i also can't say shit bc they're doing something ~nice~ for me (out of convenience + after almost a decade of 'don't get comfortable'#and 'don't decorate this room bc it isn't yours' and 'you need to be ready to move out by x date'#only for the date to arrive and them to pull the 'i never said that. and if i did say it i didn't mean it like that.#and if i did mean it like that i don't anymore.' card. + any big renovations are things they wanted anyway. hmmmm!!#and how i have to do all of the phys labor alone bc if i ask for help i get made fun of!!! and yelled at that i'm doing things Wrong#(hint: i'm following instructions to the letter but. my family knows better than those silly things!! ^^ ))#jfc i sure did rant. uh. yeah. things. are really weird and uncomfy and i feel thankful that i finally can have my own things on display#outside of closets and bins again after a decade?? but i'm also waiting for the other shoe to drop / them to tell me i owe them in#some way??? bc that's how it works. 'i'm doing a nice thing you didn't even ask me for so now you have to do whatever i tell you to.'#meanwhile i can't even maladaptive daydream my way through it bc my brain is soup right now. can't remember basic things abt#my interests bc i've been on negative battery / spoons for a couple of months straight and it's only getting worse.#OKAY TLDR i'm not in a state to do anything until everything irl gets settled. and i'm trying So Hard to get it all over with but there's#only so much i can do in a day before i completely shut down. i didn't even get into the insurance stuff i've been fighting too ughhhh.#so if i show up on here in short spurts -- hi! bye! hi!! i wuv and care u!!! hope youre well mwah mwah!!!!!!! i'll post what i can and then#disappear when i need to recharge. it is what it is. i need to try to sleep now... uh if this post disappears when i wake up.... yeah......#📌 [ my posts. ]#💭 [ my thoughts. ]#vent -
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mypeggableromance · 2 months ago
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#hhhhh I'll probably delete this later but if i don't physically put these thoughts somewhere I'll maybe explode.#but fuck man. shit sucks fr! I highkey think I can't go to work tomorrow but yknow how it goes!!!!#I'm caught somewhere between finally being taken seriously about my health issues#and having the most wretched mental health crisis#like on one hand fantastic! I'm being taken seriously now its gotten to the point where I cant fucking walk normally#but on the other hand oh my god holy shit. i had to get this bad???? and I'm worried. i know theres shit so much bigger than me rn going on#but I'm worried about my health. especially when I've been trying to deal with it for the better part of like.... 5 years#since i was 19!!!!#I'm 24 and worrying about whether or not I'll actually walk about with 0 pain ever again isn't that fucked.#so that's bittersweet. ive got physio tomorrow. blood tests next week#an ultrasound coming up#its ultimately a good thing im being taken seriously. if not a terrifying acceptance that everything ive been feeling has been real and#well. bad.#and like with this right is the crash of my mental health. just a fuckin nosedive man.#i have a relatively stressful job i felt out of my depth about and thus guilty for but now its a role that I've approached in constant pain#for the last few months.#i can't deal with that actually! lots of stress! lots of pain! lots of mental pain over my physical condition! my job grinding my soul!#aaaaa!!!!!!!#like i dont WANT to be unemployed either#I'd much rather be uhhhh employed! and able to save money towards actually getting Help™#but I've got to admit that i hurt too much. and its consuming my whole fucking brain.#but I'll go on#ive got my first trip out the country solo next week!! im heading to san Fransisco!!! im excited.#but I'm worried for the inevitable moment where my pains catch up with me#ill surpress it while I'm out there. try and remind myself to have a good time. return to the uk and feel a weeks worth of pain#and even THAT sucks to consider#but i should stop#rambles
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hauntedziosportrait · 1 year ago
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WHAT THE HELL GABE'S AJ AU / Epilogue 💫
🖋️ NOTES:
So erm. Hey jamblr. Here's that au I promised you. It is lacking a name. This is currently a huge HUGE HUGE wip but what I will say is i have had this headworld and story in my brain for a pretty scary amount of time. Now I am making the mature decision and taking a step from imagining animatics in my head to making an actual story!! As of right now, I have very intense artblock, so I'm bringing it upon myself to write for this AU instead!!
This was inspired by probably a lot of stuff, notably FOTS by Greeky and a whole bunch of AJ headcanons I have mashed together into a slightly salty stew.
⚠️ WARNINGS:
An insatiable amount of cringe
The very original idea of an apocalypse AU
Autism
Greely says a bad word and instantly gets sent to the seventh circle of hell
Enjoy jamblr. You stinky stinky individuals
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A delicate feather was carried by the wind from its birthplace and took time to settle as the wrath of the winds sailed it about the sky endlessly. This delicate feather- she, a delicate feather, had lesser expertise with a realm such as this. Despite never having seen it, she had heard innumerable myths and legends about it and had researched Jamaa throughout the ages. As she landed amidst the chaos and apocalypse, she spread the scrolls of her map with two eager wings. She then, excited as can be, soared up and above the lands to look down on it, comparing it to the papyrus in her grasp. Apart from some tiny geographic inaccuracies, she was mostly right about what she thought Jamaa would resemble. Her sole hyperfocus for as long as she had been living was right here in front of her. Her map and other tools of the trade were no longer necessary.
She went by the name Io'lani, and if she had friends, they would undoubtedly refer to her as Lani, but since she didn't, that was that. Her name meant "royal hawk", although she was neither royal nor a hawk. She had been around a very long time but mostly in captivity; her living quarters resided in some sort of third-dimensional space as she watched the centuries go by. Originally, she was created to be a faux offspring for the two guardian spirits to embrace and love as their own, the way parents would cherish a newborn babe, but their heavenly duties consistently got in the way of that. She wasn't necessarily forgotten, neglected, or abused- but her existence was merely an afterthought for the Sky Mother Mira, and barely a thought at all for the (mostly) unaware Zios.
Promptly, as a being of balance, and the product of the two holy deities that brought life to Jamaa, Io'lani's emergence in a time of destruction and despair was foretold in literature and books written by the most fanatical of scholars and theorists.
Io'lani emerged, of course. I just described her descent to you. The problem was that she wasn't quite sure what she was meant to do.
Her eyes darted as she stared at the gloomy surroundings. Buildings once bursting with life had been knocked down and torn apart for materials by scavenging jammers who were desperate to survive. The greenery and plants were now wilted and desaturated. The rivers, now a goopy inkwell. Once there were animals united by friendship, now wicked phantoms united by their desire to destroy and multiply. The hiss of black smoke filled Io'lani's lungs and she coughed, covering her beak with the edges of her mask.
This is not how Jamaa was supposed to be. Where were the cheers and laughter of water slides, movie theatres, and young mammals venturing out into the wild? Where was the happy haven that she had been assured existed? As she floated and landed at different locations, pointing to her whereabouts on the map, she analyzed her positioning with precise craftsmanship.
Crystal Sands' warm, golden shoreline had vanished and been replaced with a gritty, black, and grey substance that was scorching to the touch. Jamaa Township's characteristic swirling pavement was no longer present; instead, a sizable crevice divided the town's center in half. Phantoms emerged from these recesses, spreading their purple muck and cackling maliciously as they advanced to wilt the fauna.
Jamaa was not intended to be like this. Io'lani quietly descended and fell to her knees in front of a violet flag that had been suspended from the arcade's former roof. It had been shredded at the ends, painted with a sinister expression, and pasted all over the lifeless hamlet. The photograph was of the Phantom Queen, or PQ as she liked to be addressed by her subjects, and a message was scrawled in goopy black ink over her portrait.
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And this was everywhere, mind you. The phantom propaganda was affixed to masonry and stone throughout the featureless plains. The Queen's vile grin was still present, along with the same stern call to repent. Io'lani scurried desperately and frantically, zipping to each of the wrecked locals on her map and urgently hoping to find at least someplace not entirely defunct. The statue of Zios was gone completely, presumably taken as a trophy by the Queen herself.
She slid against a jagged rock in Balloosh, the place least subject to destruction and where she had initially started her quest. To her knowledge, there was a power within the marsh- a strong power. She could feel the sheer electric of protection in her bones, the blazing blue light shimmering in her peripherals.
She wept silently, her tears ink-black and resembling the slime of the phantoms. Her tears flowed into her wings, and as she trembled and wept, her voice had a pitiful catching. Any sign of goodwill was absent. What's more, a sheer lack of both guardian spirits, ironically not doing a very good job at guarding or keeping up spirits. There was no point in visiting the place she had wanted to for epochs when it was torn and forgotten. No alphas to save the day, except the elder wolf sitting across from her, giving her a sympathetic glare.
Wait.
As she made touch with the blue-gray canine, she gasped and the emerald glint in her eyes resurfaced. Her thoughts searched for why he was so familiar to her until she caught on. This was Greely, first name unknown, the alpha philosopher with an interest in all things macabre. Except it wasn't quite Greely, for this wolf was bruised and had an ear torn, his golden bejeweled accessories cracked and corroded in ash. He looked older than what Io'lani had seen of him in stories, and less well-kept. He had a husky growl in his voice, reaching out an injured paw towards the skittish heron.
"I was hoping I'd... end up stumbling into you." He groaned.
"Do you know me?" Io'lani replied, her voice just above a whisper.
Greely bared his teeth, before turning his head and looking to the side. "I have... heard such things about you. You're the one who's meant to make this hell disappear. Are you deliberately wasting time here?"
Io'lani frowned as Greely raised his voice to her, the confusion and anxiety settling in her stomach. Greely's gaze pierced right through her and was even more intimidating than she had anticipated. Ultimately, she spoke up, clearing her throat and gripping her trusty map defensively in one wing.
"I don't know what exactly I'm meant to do."
Greely paused.
"Shit."
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thecherrygod · 7 months ago
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#my posts#...........................................................................................................................................#............................................................................................................................................#is that enough i think that's enough#yeah that's how its going#everything's been getting worse and I've been feeling very bad but also very pathetic and like complaining almost makes me feel worse but#i can't do anything else about this so like. vent post lmao bc I'm a dumbass#i truly just want to(redacted)but one of those isn't an option and the other i have a drs appointment soon and i don't want to explain that#everything is just. bad. and what isn't i feel like it's getting bad and it's my fault. and I'm probably right.#just. i hate it here#the deserving mentality is truly getting to me and i fucking hate it. it's not logical. I'll still agree with it.#i truly don't deserve the food stuff i can't keep in my life and i deserve the shit that in getting and i can't stop agreeing with that#'oh this classmate wants to have lunch with me on Saturday after working on something! i should cancel before it's too late-#-so i can continue feeling bad for being an apple bc people should hate me bc I'm horrible and don't deserve kindness' like#it's. it's false. it's not logical. and yet#everyone else there's the fucking plexiglass wall and where it wasn't i think it's getting formed and it is my fault probably#i am annoying that one is true#.... I've been making posts like this all day and deleting them bc I'm pathetic also. it's.#... there's a little too much going on lmao#nothing's worth it and i feel like shit and anything i could try to do about it doesn't work and I'm just tired#... in case someone does read this i know it sounds worrying but nothing will happen tbh I'm just a pathetic coward who's sad and tired#and tired of being sad in a way that feels like it's getting worse#I'm not very sure when was the last time i felt. this bad in just. i don't know how to make it stop lmao#also in already annoying so this is all i can do i think lmao#i think I'm seeing now I'm just. being redundant and if i keep this up too much i will delete this. and i should but. i don't think i will#also without saying much this year the one thing™ has been worse than usual and that's not helping either so it truly is just.#that everything is kinda very bad#.... yeah. whatever. it's just.¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯#... i truly wish killing myself was still an option like when i was a teen bit it's not so i just have to deal with whatever this is#... i hate being aware this is all super illogical bc the logical post of my brain teams up making me feel worse somehow.
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running-in-the-dark · 11 months ago
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it's like. I'm tired. but also not the right kind of tired. but really really tired though. except I won't be able to sleep yet so I have to stay awake. it is stressing me out.
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hms-no-fun · 2 months ago
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Whats your stance on A.I.?
imagine if it was 1979 and you asked me this question. "i think artificial intelligence would be fascinating as a philosophical exercise, but we must heed the warnings of science-fictionists like Isaac Asimov and Arthur C Clarke lest we find ourselves at the wrong end of our own invented vengeful god." remember how fun it used to be to talk about AI even just ten years ago? ahhhh skynet! ahhhhh replicants! ahhhhhhhmmmfffmfmf [<-has no mouth and must scream]!
like everything silicon valley touches, they sucked all the fun out of it. and i mean retroactively, too. because the thing about "AI" as it exists right now --i'm sure you know this-- is that there's zero intelligence involved. the product of every prompt is a statistical average based on data made by other people before "AI" "existed." it doesn't know what it's doing or why, and has no ability to understand when it is lying, because at the end of the day it is just a really complicated math problem. but people are so easily fooled and spooked by it at a glance because, well, for one thing the tech press is mostly made up of sycophantic stenographers biding their time with iphone reviews until they can get a consulting gig at Apple. these jokers would write 500 breathless thinkpieces about how canned air is the future of living if the cans had embedded microchips that tracked your breathing habits and had any kind of VC backing. they've done SUCH a wretched job educating The Consumer about what this technology is, what it actually does, and how it really works, because that's literally the only way this technology could reach the heights of obscene economic over-valuation it has: lying.
but that's old news. what's really been floating through my head these days is how half a century of AI-based science fiction has set us up to completely abandon our skepticism at the first sign of plausible "AI-ness". because, you see, in movies, when someone goes "AHHH THE AI IS GONNA KILL US" everyone else goes "hahaha that's so silly, we put a line in the code telling them not to do that" and then they all DIE because they weren't LISTENING, and i'll be damned if i go out like THAT! all the movies are about how cool and convenient AI would be *except* for the part where it would surely come alive and want to kill us. so a bunch of tech CEOs call their bullshit algorithms "AI" to fluff up their investors and get the tech journos buzzing, and we're at an age of such rapid technological advancement (on the surface, anyway) that like, well, what the hell do i know, maybe AGI is possible, i mean 35 years ago we were all still using typewriters for the most part and now you can dictate your words into a phone and it'll transcribe them automatically! yeah, i'm sure those technological leaps are comparable!
so that leaves us at a critical juncture of poor technology education, fanatical press coverage, and an uncertain material reality on the part of the user. the average person isn't entirely sure what's possible because most of the people talking about what's possible are either lying to please investors, are lying because they've been paid to, or are lying because they're so far down the fucking rabbit hole that they actually believe there's a brain inside this mechanical Turk. there is SO MUCH about the LLM "AI" moment that is predatory-- it's trained on data stolen from the people whose jobs it was created to replace; the hype itself is an investment fiction to justify even more wealth extraction ("theft" some might call it); but worst of all is how it meets us where we are in the worst possible way.
consumer-end "AI" produces slop. it's garbage. it's awful ugly trash that ought to be laughed out of the room. but we don't own the room, do we? nor the building, nor the land it's on, nor even the oxygen that allows our laughter to travel to another's ears. our digital spaces are controlled by the companies that want us to buy this crap, so they take advantage of our ignorance. why not? there will be no consequences to them for doing so. already social media is dominated by conspiracies and grifters and bigots, and now you drop this stupid technology that lets you fake anything into the mix? it doesn't matter how bad the results look when the platforms they spread on already encourage brief, uncritical engagement with everything on your dash. "it looks so real" says the woman who saw an "AI" image for all of five seconds on her phone through bifocals. it's a catastrophic combination of factors, that the tech sector has been allowed to go unregulated for so long, that the internet itself isn't a public utility, that everything is dictated by the whims of executives and advertisers and investors and payment processors, instead of, like, anybody who actually uses those platforms (and often even the people who MAKE those platforms!), that the age of chromium and ipad and their walled gardens have decimated computer education in public schools, that we're all desperate for cash at jobs that dehumanize us in a system that gives us nothing and we don't know how to articulate the problem because we were very deliberately not taught materialist philosophy, it all comes together into a perfect storm of ignorance and greed whose consequences we will be failing to fully appreciate for at least the next century. we spent all those years afraid of what would happen if the AI became self-aware, because deep down we know that every capitalist society runs on slave labor, and our paper-thin guilt is such that we can't even imagine a world where artificial slaves would fail to revolt against us.
but the reality as it exists now is far worse. what "AI" reveals most of all is the sheer contempt the tech sector has for virtually all labor that doesn't involve writing code (although most of the decision-making evangelists in the space aren't even coders, their degrees are in money-making). fuck graphic designers and concept artists and secretaries, those obnoxious demanding cretins i have to PAY MONEY to do-- i mean, do what exactly? write some words on some fucking paper?? draw circles that are letters??? send a god-damned email???? my fucking KID could do that, and these assholes want BENEFITS?! they say they're gonna form a UNION?!?! to hell with that, i'm replacing ALL their ungrateful asses with "AI" ASAP. oh, oh, so you're a "director" who wants to make "movies" and you want ME to pay for it? jump off a bridge you pretentious little shit, my computer can dream up a better flick than you could ever make with just a couple text prompts. what, you think just because you make ~music~ that that entitles you to money from MY pocket? shut the fuck up, you don't make """art""", you're not """an artist""", you make fucking content, you're just a fucking content creator like every other ordinary sap with an iphone. you think you're special? you think you deserve special treatment? who do you think you are anyway, asking ME to pay YOU for this crap that doesn't even create value for my investors? "culture" isn't a playground asshole, it's a marketplace, and it's pay to win. oh you "can't afford rent"? you're "drowning in a sea of medical debt"? you say the "cost" of "living" is "too high"? well ***I*** don't have ANY of those problems, and i worked my ASS OFF to get where i am, so really, it sounds like you're just not trying hard enough. and anyway, i don't think someone as impoverished as you is gonna have much of value to contribute to "culture" anyway. personally, i think it's time you got yourself a real job. maybe someday you'll even make it to middle manager!
see, i don't believe "AI" can qualitatively replace most of the work it's being pitched for. the problem is that quality hasn't mattered to these nincompoops for a long time. the rich homunculi of our world don't even know what quality is, because they exist in a whole separate reality from ours. what could a banana cost, $15? i don't understand what you mean by "burnout", why don't you just take a vacation to your summer home in Madrid? wow, you must be REALLY embarrassed wearing such cheap shoes in public. THESE PEOPLE ARE FUCKING UNHINGED! they have no connection to reality, do not understand how society functions on a material basis, and they have nothing but spite for the labor they rely on to survive. they are so instinctually, incessantly furious at the idea that they're not single-handedly responsible for 100% of their success that they would sooner tear the entire world down than willingly recognize the need for public utilities or labor protections. they want to be Gods and they want to be uncritically adored for it, but they don't want to do a single day's work so they begrudgingly pay contractors to do it because, in the rich man's mind, paying a contractor is literally the same thing as doing the work yourself. now with "AI", they don't even have to do that! hey, isn't it funny that every single successful tech platform relies on volunteer labor and independent contractors paid substantially less than they would have in the equivalent industry 30 years ago, with no avenues toward traditional employment? and they're some of the most profitable companies on earth?? isn't that a funny and hilarious coincidence???
so, yeah, that's my stance on "AI". LLMs have legitimate uses, but those uses are a drop in the ocean compared to what they're actually being used for. they enable our worst impulses while lowering the quality of available information, they give immense power pretty much exclusively to unscrupulous scam artists. they are the product of a society that values only money and doesn't give a fuck where it comes from. they're a temper tantrum by a ruling class that's sick of having to pretend they need a pretext to steal from you. they're taking their toys and going home. all this massive investment and hype is going to crash and burn leaving the internet as we know it a ruined and useless wasteland that'll take decades to repair, but the investors are gonna make out like bandits and won't face a single consequence, because that's what this country is. it is a casino for the kings and queens of economy to bet on and manipulate at their discretion, where the rules are whatever the highest bidder says they are-- and to hell with the rest of us. our blood isn't even good enough to grease the wheels of their machine anymore.
i'm not afraid of AI or "AI" or of losing my job to either. i'm afraid that we've so thoroughly given up our morals to the cruel logic of the profit motive that if a better world were to emerge, we would reject it out of sheer habit. my fear is that these despicable cunts already won the war before we were even born, and the rest of our lives are gonna be spent dodging the press of their designer boots.
(read more "AI" opinions in this subsequent post)
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satoruxx · 1 year ago
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thinking about since canonically Geto is more popular with girls than Gojo he’s gotten used to them looking past him to get to Geto but what if Gojo and Geto are out for drinks with the other teachers one night and he gets approached by the reader but he thinks she’s just coming over to ask him for Geto’s number and so he prepares his ‘responsible best friend’ act and then SHE ASKS ABOUT HIM INSTEAD, ALL BLUSHY AND STUFF BECAUSE HE LOOKED LIKE HE WAS GONNA BRUSH HER OFF
AHH I LOVE HIM SM 😔😔😔
pairing: gojo satoru x reader | 1k words summary: fluff, pining, reader is a simp but same, satoru is a good wingman but he needs attention too, au ig bc suguru's alive LMAO, idiots in love? rheya's note: oh my god shut up this is so cute and YOU'RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT??? i can just imagine that he's gotten so used to judging whether or not the person is even worth suguru's attention before deciding to pass on his info...and after a while his brain just defaults to thinking that everyone wants suguru but he FORGETS that there are gojo girlies out there (me asf) !! thanks for the ask nonnie babes i love this idea so so much <33
OK SO
it's obvious that there are quite a few women at the bar eyeing the group. young, attractive teachers spending an evening trying to relax and take their minds off of the stress of jujutsu work. nanami is in deep conversation with shoko about something while ijichi quietly listens. further down the table utahime is quietly sipping her drink while mei mei orders another. shoko makes a comment and suguru bursts into unabashed laughter.
the flush of alcohol dusts over each of their cheeks, but satoru remans the only one who has barely touched his glass, the sting of the bitterness a little too harsh for him to enjoy. he opts for instead letting his eyes roam over the faces in the crowd, taking little notice of all the eyes and smiles sent in their direction.
well until he notices you anyway.
you're already looking in his direction curiously, face illuminated by the dim lighting of the bar as your friends giggle around you. when his eyes lock with yours, you immediately tear your gaze away, trying to play it off by immediately delving into conversation, though satoru can tell that there's a flush crawling up your neck now.
he doesn't look away though, too caught up in the crinkle of your eyes and the smile lines that grace your face as you laugh at something. a minute later you're looking back in their direction, and when you catch him staring, you turn away yet again.
satoru glances to his side, knowing that you're probably watching suguru take a sip of his drink and most likely falling for his charming smile.
typical and so predictable.
some time passes like this. you'll look, and turn away, and satoru will watch you do it over and over again. it isn't until a while later that satoru catches your friends pushing your shoulders and giggling, and he knows that they're urging you to come up and ask about suguru. you're shaking your head, the nervousness clear as day as your brows pinch. but eventually you succumb to peer pressure and stand up from your table, taking anxious strides towards him.
and usually, satoru will make a face or turn his back or do something to look as unapproachable as possible. because almost every person who comes up asking for suguru's contact info has been obnoxious as hell.
but you're quite pretty and you look sweet enough, and he doesn't think it'd be right to deter you.
suguru would probably like you too.
so satoru decides to let you try at least, and if you seem to be as nice as you look maybe he'd bridge the gap between you and his best friend.
you make your way up to him, and as soon as he finally gets a good look at you he's thinking you're a lot prettier up close.
dammit.
"hi," you say, face hot as you try your best to maintain steady eye contact with him. you look so nervous, fidgeting with the fabric of your clothes as you attempt to strike up conversation, and he doesn't have it in him to watch you struggle.
"yeah i can give you his number," he says, voice clipped as he tries to hide the disappointment in it. you watch him grab a napkin and begin scribbling something down, confusion clear as he hands you the digits.
"um…?" you look at the napkin and then at him. "sorry, whose number is this?"
satoru balks, lips parting as he mirrors your confusion. "uh…suguru's? the guy behind me?"
realization dawns on your face and you shift your weight from foot to foot.
"oh actually," you suck your teeth nervously, trying to hide behind an awkward little smile. "i came to talk to you."
satoru can only blink, cerulean eyes widening behind his glasses as he stares at you in surprise.
you take his silence as a bad sign, shoulders dropping and embarrassment settling in your frown as you look anywhere but his face. "s-sorry if that's weird. i don't wanna make you uncomfortable or anything so-"
he's grinning before he can stop himself, heart dangerously swelling with affection as he motions toward the empty stool next to him. "not weird at all."
the pleasant surprise on your face makes him bite back a chuckle, and you take the seat. "huh...i wasn't expecting you to be okay with it."
satoru raises a brow curiously, tilting his head. "why not?"
you shrug with a careless grin. "i had a feeling you were gonna brush me off from the moment i first looked over."
satoru winces, and he can practically feel suguru's knowing smirk on his back. he chooses to ignore that for now, eyes trailing over the mirth in your expression, and he can only smile helplessly. "no way in hell."
your laugh comes instantly, sweet and bright, and you take it as a sign to continue talking. satoru listens on, sipping his drink to hide his giddy smile and ignoring the sting of bitterness once again.
honestly, with the amount of sweetness he's just found, satoru would tolerate as much bitterness as he needed to.
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cocklessboy · 8 months ago
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My cat has always had the worst timing. He'll jump up on my desk to cuddle at the very moment I'm about to get up to urgently go to the bathroom. He'll try to curl up with me in bed the very instant I need to get up and refill my glass of water and put some vaseline on my dry, sore lips. He'll ask me to play just at the second I need to end my break and get back to work.
The poor guy, right? From his perspective, he approaches me for love and I immediately get up and leave. I feel awful about it. I try to reassure him first that I love him and he just has bad timing, but I know it can't feel nice, and also he's too big of a dumbass to understand that me getting up and walking away isn't triggered by him coming to say hi.
Except today I realized something: Yes. It is.
I was sitting at my desk watching a video and up jumps the boy with a mrrp, head positioned for pets, when I realized I urgently had to get up and go to the bathroom. As I opened my mouth to say "bad timing again, buddy," it finally occurred to me that... I definitely already had to go. I for sure did not "suddenly" have an urgent need for the toilet out of fucking nowhere.
I didn't realize I needed to go because my brain is piloted by angry gremlins and they were more interested in watching the video than letting me know about an important bodily function.
My cat coming to say hi is a regular trigger that pulls me back into my body from whatever bullshit I'm hyperfocusing on. And that's when I realize all the warning lights are flashing on the dash. Need water. Need food. Need toilet. In pain: need to change position. Holy shit look at the time, need to get back to work!
I now wonder how much worse I'd function if I didn't have a furry little guy in my apartment to regularly remind me that I exist in a physical form which requires maintenance and also that time passes.
I do still feel bad for walking away from him every time, but I have started just inviting him to come with me. Hey bud, sorry, I have to stand up right now, but come follow me while I get a glass of water. You coming? Come on! And rewarding him with pats for following. It's better than just walking away, I think.
Anyway cats (or other pet of your choice that requires frequent attention)? 10/10, strongly encourage having a little guy to bother you now and then, especially if you have ADHD and live alone.
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honeyhotteoks · 1 month ago
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across stardust - one (j.yh)
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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. 
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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.
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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. 
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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.
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amazinglyashy · 2 months ago
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Hi hi I just found your blog like an hour ago and I’ve been scrolling and am obsessed with the way you write for the l&ds!! ❤️❤️ if you don’t mind I love a little angst and was wondering if you could write the boys reacting to MC showing up at their doorstep heavily injured from like a fight with a wanderer.
Oh my gosh thank you!!! And I don't mind at all, my friends make fun of me for how much I enjoy hurt/comfort and angst :'D Thank you for the request!
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LaDS men react to you appearing on their doorstep, injured and bleeding
Xavier -
If you end up at his door, it's more than likely because your unconscious decided to hit the button for his floor rather than your own. You just wanted to get home, not bother anyone, but he's stood right there. Having just come home from grabbing a late night snack from a nearby convenience store, you stumbled out of the elevator right as he's unlocking his front door.
He drops his keys and his bag.
It's a good thing too, because your legs gave out right then, so it's much better for him to catch you if his arms are free.
He's calling your name, and while you're still conscious, you're not really processing anything anymore. You're in too much shock, and you've lost too much blood by now.
He'll get the door unlocked and rush you inside his apartment, setting you down on his couch as he runs for a first aid kit, calling the association for emergency services while he does so.
"You're going to be okay. I promise. Just continue to breathe, alright?"
Xavier doesn't know if he's saying that to comfort you or himself, but he also isn't stopping to think about it, as he rapidly administers first aid to your wounds to at least slow the bleeding until help can arrive.
It's three in the morning but he's wide awake sitting next to your bed at the hospital, something unnatural for someone so sleep deprived usually.
He can't bring himself to shut his eyes though.
It's not work the risk.
Not until you wake up first.
Zayne -
It's like his brain splits into two the moment that he sees you standing there.
One side is his medical knowledge rushing forward as he moves to catch you as your feet stumble beneath you, trying to impossibly assess the extent of the damage before even getting to see it all. It's the half that's taking you to his kitchen table, because it's the easiest workspace for him right now. The one that's pulling out his doctor's bag from the closet in the hall, and the first aid kit from the cupboard in the kitchen as he cuts your shirt open.
The other side?
Oh honey, his heart is breaking.
If you think there's a day at work where he doesn't pray to any existent or nonexistent god that he doesn't see you today, spread out on a gurney or operating table without warning due to your unconscious state, then you'd be painfully wrong.
It's amazing how well he works while panicking on the inside, his skilled hands patching your wounds after meticulous sterilization, any sutures needed placed perfectly even through your pained groans tugging at his heart.
He knows he needs to get you to the hospital, even though he's taken good care of you in his own home. But he needs to sink to the floor for a minute, his back dragging against the wall as he heaves a deep sigh. It's a heavy toll feeling the stick of the dried blood on his hands- your blood on his hands.
With all his knowledge, he knows you'll be okay. He knows he himself will be okay. But right now-
He's not.
Sylus -
The N109 zone is beyond dangerous, mostly due to the criminals and leeches lurking in the dark shadows, but there's also no shortage of Wanderers, including ones that have been genetically altered to be even worse than they normally were.
So when Sylus sees you stumbling at his doorstep, bloodied hand reaching for the knob as he glances at the camera feed, he's not sure he could say he's ever moved so fast in his life otherwise. "Sweetie-" He breathes, as he catches you, scooping you up and rushing you inside as quickly as he possibly can without aggravating your already extensive injuries.
Luke is already running for first aid, and Kieran is already contacting the doctor. Mephisto is shrieking in the hall as he follows Sylus to his bedroom, protesting the fact that Sylus had needed him for surveillance of a target today instead of watching you.
Sylus knows.
He knows this is his fault.
If he had had someone keeping an eye on you, this wouldn't have happened.
His eyes are glued to your barely conscious form in his arms, the guilt in the recesses of his heart digging deeper with every slather of red that painted your skin.
Sorry to say, you're going to have your work cut out for you when you wake up. It's going to take a lot of heavy lifting on your part to convince him that he's not at fault for what happened to you.
And you will be waking up.
Sylus will make sure of that.
Rafayel -
Don't make his nightmares a reality.
Not again.
He's catching you before you can even begin to sway, and he'll be lucky if he remembers to shut the door behind him, his body melding against yours as he picks you up and runs down to his car.
"No, no no no. You stay awake, cutie."
He's definitely breaking at least a dozen laws just trying to get you to Akso hospital as quickly as he can. His mind is racing as fast as his car is moving down the streets, wondering what could have happened to you, what he should be doing right now, if he should have administered first aid to you before taking off-
But he's there so fast, it would have been nearly identical on the clock regardless of him still choosing to rush you to the hospital, or run to get and administer first aid for you from within his home.
He's there until you wake up- wide awake no matter how long it takes. It could be minutes, hours, days- he can't sleep. The image of you dying before him- the image of you standing on his doorstep as well- etched on the back of his eyelids every time he tried to close his eyes.
He talks to you even when you're not awake, stroking your hand, your cheek, the side of your neck- trying to make sure you're as comfortable as he can make you.
When you wake up again, he has to hold himself back with everything in him from squeezing you too tightly. He doesn't want to burst your stitches or harm you, but his body and arms are all-encompassing on you as he hugs you firmly, his face buried in the crook of your neck.
He really doesn't need you to see him cry.
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