#but this pairing comes up sometimes too >:((((((

[tojisun]

when the older man is the one with daddy issues so he's nurturing and careful and indulgent, but he's also so teasing when he's taking you apart. how he draws out the pleasure until you're crying, splintering at the edges, your words coming out in weak babbles. until you're pawing at him, begging for anything - your orgasm, a kiss, him to engulf you in his warm embrace.

but also thinking about how he loves to feed you; cooking up healthy and delicious meals, while you're over there in the living room busying yourself because last time you helped him, the two of you got distracted and forgot that there were potatoes in the oven.

or how he just loves buying you clothes; from shirts and sweaters to pants and skirts, to toques and scarves, down to the things you didn't even know you needed like an extra pair of gloves or stockings cuz you've torn the other one, remember?

and how he starts looking for a bigger house, somewhere with a bigger lot and a wider garage, and more rooms cuz you mentioned that you wanted your own office; that your back is starting to hurt from working in the dining room, with those old but lovingly worn out seats. and this one that he found has a bigger kitchen, with an island and tall, tall windows, and a place for a chandelier.

yeah, he's already imagining cooking for you here while you watch him from the island. this way, you're closer to him; easier for him to reach for a kiss.

and just also thinking about how he always picks you up from work; he's never late and sometimes, he'd even be too early. it's not even like he works odd hours because he should be finishing up at the same time that you do, but he rather bring his work to home - wrap up while you're already in bed, snoozing, not knowing that he crawled back out of it after he's cuddled you to sleep - than not pick you up at all. he loves the drive, anyway, and he's a senior at his position so he's got room for flexibility.

it's just, he is so greedy of every chance he can get to be with you. to be of service for you.

thinking about all of this knowing this is so john price :(

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - one (j.yh)

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

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

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

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 17.9k

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

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

“Fuck,” You breathe, “hey,” 

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

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

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

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I guess.” 

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

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

“Thank you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” He checks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?” He tilts his face up to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” He hums and stays relaxed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” He laughs, “of course, yeah,” 

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

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

The tattoo on your chest feels warm beneath your blouse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s yours. 

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

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

“You didn’t?” His hand falls. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head, “No,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A soulmate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His shoulders relax just a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” You assure him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good,” You nod, “don’t worry,” 

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

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

“Am I good?” Yunho checks. 

Your eyes flick over him fast, “Yep,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He really is yours. 

It turns out that later means much later. 

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

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

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

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

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

A soft knock at the door makes your stomach lurch. 

You’re frozen. 

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

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

“I waited,” You manage. 

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

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

He nods, “Come to my room?” 

“Are you sure?” Your eyes widen. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the heavy door shuts behind you, you sigh. 

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

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

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

“It feels pretty real,” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You what?” Your eyebrows raise. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Completely,” He nods, “did yours?” 

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

“Does it feel,” He starts.

“Warm?” 

“Yes,” He nods, “and tender?” 

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

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

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

“You want to see it?” He surmises. 

“Only if you’re comfortable,” 

His lips quirk, “I’m comfortable,”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

He shakes his head, “Not before today,” 

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

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

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

“You feel that?” He asks, “Right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it always feel like that?” 

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

He smiles, “Your sister found her soulmate?” 

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

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

“Younger,” You say.  

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

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

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

Your heart quickens and you nod. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Your voice is thready. 

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

“Yes,” You agree, painfully quickly. 

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

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

You wonder what more will feel like. 

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

You nod. 

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

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

“You can feel that?” 

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

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

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

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

“Feel alright?” He murmurs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He feels so right, so essential under your touch. 

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

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

“Yunho,” You shiver. 

“Cold?” He gravitates a little closer. 

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

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

His lips are on yours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to slow down,” He manages. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Overwhelming,” You nod, exhaling softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You straighten up again, finding his eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your tight hands uncurl. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s yours. 

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

“This is real,” You murmur. 

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

“You’re mine,” 

“Yes,” He grins. 

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

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

“Together,” You nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is nice,” You smile. 

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

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

“It is,”

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

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

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

 “I had no idea,” 

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” You perk up, “Who?” 

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

You sigh, letting his softness calm you again. 

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

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

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

That wakes you up. 

Your eyebrows raise, “Stay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With me?” His eyebrows raise. 

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

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

“It is what it is,” 

“Are your parents soulmates?” He asks softly. 

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

You watch his eyes widen in surprise. 

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

“For status?” He surmises. 

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

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

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

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

“It could,” 

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

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

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

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

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

Your smile at his warm expression. 

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

Your throat constricts, tears threatening for a moment. 

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

“Very,”

“I’d like to meet her,” He smiles. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

“She’s funny,” He smirks. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Your eyes feel heavy. 

“Yeah,” He kisses your forehead. 

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

“Mhm,” He yawns too, “me too, jagi,” 

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

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

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

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

Nuzzled against his tattoo, you drift.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Naive is what it is,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long?” Seonghwa manages. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Yunho laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mouth feels dry. 

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

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

You both wait. 

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

Yunho nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” Yunho curses. 

You both slept straight through Yunho’s alarm. 

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

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

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

Did you already get up and get ready?

Your work bag is still here…

Not funny, girl, where are you?

Did you make it back last night? 

Can you answer me?? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seonghwa huffs a laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With some guy?” She stands. 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” You say again. 

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

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

“Iseul,” Your cheeks heat. 

She points at you, “I’m right!” 

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

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

“I can’t,” You press, “leave it,” 

“Why are you being so weird?” 

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

“I’m not letting this go,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” 

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

“Fine,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You miss him. 

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

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

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

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

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

So you’re as awake as I am? 

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

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

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

Nope - You tease back. 

Was she upset? - He asks. 

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

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

How was Seonghwa? - You tap out. 

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

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

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

That’s good - You send back. 

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

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

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

Why’s that? - You tease him. 

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

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

So who did she guess? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exactly - You reply. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your thighs press together - Yunho?

Yes, jagi?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you have headphones? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want me? - You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

I was tossing and turning. 

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

You send him another emoji, the blushing face. 

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

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

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

Wearing? 

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

I asked you first.

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

A heavy sigh passes through your lips. 

“And you?” 

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

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

Me too 

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

Me either - You confess. 

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

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

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

You message him one last thought - What about you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” You murmur in a whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s good, that’s so good,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Uh-huh,” You manage. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” He murmurs, “you okay?” 

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

He hums, a quiet, lazy laugh, “Ah,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, baby?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” 

“Are your headphones still in?” He asks

“No, but I can switch back,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[nonranghaes]

heads up: poly fic <3

it's a little later than you mean for it to be when you're finishing up the last of your laundry, basket tucked against your legs on the floor as you dip down to snag another t-shirt to fold and put away. you should be in bed in a tangle of limbs right now, brain already yearning to doze off into hopefully just a blissful night of silly dreams. instead...

"i wish our baby was here." jisung lets out a long, heavy sigh. his head is tucked against minho's chest, one arm draped around his shoulders. he's not even looking at you when you glance back, instead wistfully looking out the window like he's waiting for his beloved to return from the war. "the bed feels emptier without them."

minho, on the other hand, suppresses a tiny smile as his eyes meet yours for barely even a second. "i miss them, too," his fingers comb through jisung's hair a little, snuggling closer. "sometimes it's like they're still here..."

you just put away another shirt, dipping down to grab a pair of your pajama pants. "quit talking about me like i'm dead."

"sometimes i still hear their voice." minho, too, sighs wistfully. "it's almost like they're still nagging us."

you pout a little. "if only i had two boyfriends who could come help me finish this. then maybe i'd be able to cuddle with them again..."

jisung snickers a little, but it's minho who speaks again. "i'll call chan. maybe he knows somebody--"

a sock with a teddy bear pattern hits him square in the chest, and it's finally motivation for minho to get out of bed, already racing toward you. his arms wrap around you as he immediately pulls you away from the last of your laundry (just a pile of socks you'd have to sort through to match together) and toward the bed. the moment you go to call for jisung to be on your side, he's swooping in to further drag you back to bed.

"socks can wait," jisung says, pressing a kiss against your cheek before tossing your lone sock back to the basket. "it's cuddle time."

with a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you're already wrapping an arm around jisung. "fine," you say, planting a quick peck on the tip of his nose, just to see the way his face scrunches in delight. "but you two," you pause, just to bring minho's hand to where you can kiss the back of it, "have to sort them tomorrow."

[wandasdollie]

  ꒰  𑄽୧ ꒱ 𓈒  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀bisou, bisou!  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ ⠀𝜗𝜚  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀18+! men and minors dni.

 .   ̣̣̣︶ ྀ pairing ˚ ۪ ݁ balletinstructor!wanda x ballerina!reader

꒰  tags ꒱ 𓈒  mommy!wanda ,  taboo - ish relationship , smut , fingering , r!receiving , wanda speaking french! ( lapine is bunny, and poupée is doll~!! )

 ꔫ  ࣪ ˖ a / n ⑅♡ ྀ˖ this is my first time writing for wanda , i do hope you enjoy!! based on my previous post!! i... have not proofread this... i am very sorry if it is a mess!!   ໒ ྀི>֯ . <ྀི֯ ̥ ︣ა

 ⁺ ⑅  ꫂ ၴႅၴ tag list ֯݁ต  @emiliaisdead ( pls comment if you'd like to be added~! )

“Bonne après-midi, ma lapine!”

You lift your nose from its position at your knee, lifting up and toward the position of the honey-coated voice. It comes as no surprise to you that your instructor stands at the door, her hair in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, her outfit consisting of several layers that she’s sure to ditch over the next few hours. She looks impossibly cozy, and though her nose is pink and her hair is a bit frizzy from a hat that she’s recently shed, she is the essence of winter comfort. She is shivering, as are you. You can think of nothing more than sitting in front of a fire with her, under a blanket with warm tea and cookies, spending your time only focused on your shared nearness. This time of year always floods your mind with these images, it can’t be helped. Alas, you stand in a room with only a few small space heaters to create warmth for your poor, frozen joints.

“Hello!” You smile in return. Ms. Maximoff has a penchant towards speaking in French in your presence, as if it is her little secret, one that she will never let you in on. You haven’t learned yet what her little teasing nicknames mean, but you have the context clues to know when she’s greeting you, which is just enough. You don’t really want to know what she’s calling you, it only adds to the tension of your already over-amorous relationship.

You have had an entirely debilitating crush on this woman for far too long, and it is not as though she is necessarily helping you shake it. She is incredibly affectionate towards you, and while it may seem to others in the room that you are nothing more than her favorite student— which you certainly are— Ms. Maximoff harbors those very same feelings for you. She just does not show it as easily as you do. Where you become a blushing, babbling mess, she is stoic, firm, though sometimes she cannot help the dimpled smile when she watches you dance. She has forced her own resolve around you so much that it is starting to crumble, her urges towards you harder to contain. She cannot conceal adoring looks nor wandering hands much longer.  

You slide into your next stretch, attempting a split, which you aren’t nearly warm enough for, and the exasperated sigh that leaves your lips turns a frown on Wanda’s gentle features. You’re not sure how she could have possibly heard it, but she definitely has, and makes her way to stand beside you, pulling gloves off of perfectly manicured hands.

“What’s wrong, poupée?” She speaks softly as she kneels to your side, a gentle hand caressing your thigh. She chews on her lower lip, and you each feel the ripple of nerves shoot through the tense muscle when she places her hand there. There’s simply no helping the buzz of butterflies in your tummy when you look up to meet her gaze in the mirror, the way she so intently watches you, how her thumb caresses you even though you’re wearing awfully thick sweatpants.

“I’m too cold,” you whine, voice a bit pathetic as you flop onto the floor, body naturally magnetized towards your instructor, subconsciously seeking her body’s warmth, her touch. You lower your gaze from the mirror and turn to face Wanda now, looking up to her as if by some magic she could instantly warm you, begging without words for her to wrap her arms around you and hold you close. You want nothing more than to slip your fingers under her large sweater and warm your freezing fingers, and that is just the same thing that Wanda seeks now. But she is in the position of a professional, of a teacher, that she must keep her head about her. That’s what she’s always had to remind herself, since the very first day you enrolled in her course.

 Needless to say, she’s found this very difficult.

Most difficult, that is, when you look up to her, eyes wide and pleading, fingers playing anxiously with the cotton of your own sweatshirt, legs spread so that Wanda sits perfectly between them. She juts out her lower lip a little, looking to you with the pity that you so deserve, and raises her own hand so that she may press the palm against your cheek. You lean into the touch so desperately, not minding that it is likely messing up your makeup— the makeup you always spend at least an hour perfecting before class, all so that she might compliment you like she is so apt to doing.

And it’s that very complimenting that Wanda is so desperate to do now, but she just must force herself not to. She will only look you over, soak in the image of the girl that so clearly longs to be loved, but will not allow herself anymore.

“Let me help,” she hums, voice impossibly smooth, dropped an octave from when she had first greeted you. Her thumb lightly washes over your skin before her hand drops, leaving a warm imprint on otherwise freezing flesh. Wanda backs up a little so that you may spread your legs even wider, a strained hundred-and-eighty-degree angle, though you press your palms into the floor, hovering a little as to ease some of the pain in your hips.

Wanda sidles herself behind you, enjoys all too much the way you chew on your lip, the way the veins in your neck ripple from the physical exertion. She won’t admit it to herself, but as much as she loves to see the smile on your bunny-pink lips, she adores to see you in the least bit of pain. A twinge sadistic, yes, but it’s a natural instinct that cannot be ignored. It is because she so yearns to be the one to ease your pain. She does not ever want to hurt you, will never hurt you, only wants to be the one to kiss you back to health when you’re sick, to put ice on swollen ankles.

She can’t help the craving hands that find themselves to your hips, their pressure firm, fingers threatening below the waistband of your sweatpants. You shiver when they do just that, finding their way onto the lowest part of your hip where your leotard meets tights, pressing you downwards ever so gently until you hit the floor. The stretch is entirely painful, though it’s a pain that’s all too close to being pleasurable. The extension of your muscles, paired with Wanda’s soothing touch, and her hot breath at the back of your neck, is all creating a swimming warmth within you far better than any heater could. The warmth has certainly concentrated right where your instructor’s hands lie now, the very inside of your thighs, the place that should hurt the absolute most, but with Wanda’s hands subtly massaging there, there isn’t a lot of pain at all.

“Good girl,” Wanda hums softly, releasing your thighs, sliding her hands up your side until they land against your back, lightly tracing the brocade velvet lacing of your backless leotard. She smiles to herself, counting the few freckles of your skin, knowing they won’t be gaining any new friends in the next cold months. “So pretty…” She whispers to herself, sure you can’t hear her for the way you count quietly to yourself. She adores it, the way your lips track numbers all throughout class, a very random quirk that you’ve never been aware of, yet it is one of Wanda’s favorite things about you.

You finally quit, swinging your legs forward, nearly falling back into Wanda in the process. In fact, your lack of balance has prompted her hand back to your hip, holding you firmly as you sit up, posture never faltering for the good ballerina that you are. Just as you are about to turn to thank Ms. Maximoff, whose leg has outstretched to mirror your own, to elongate your touch as much as she can, you hear a few chattering voices come down the hall. Wanda sighs softly, always a little too angry when other students dare interrupt your more intimate moments, but stands anyway. This is not before she gives your hip a small squeeze, and when she stands, she gently leaves her hand on top of your hair, gazes at you through the mirror. She could easily stare at you like this for the rest of time, and you her, but you both must move on, must find places at the barre, must move on with your lives. When the few students finally make their way into the classroom, Wanda winks at you before abandoning you in the middle of the floor, leaving so that she can fix her hair and check over her notes for today’s class.

The class is similar to every other that you’ve ever had, though not at all tedious. You do your warm-up as usual, practice for an upcoming recital, try some new things that Wanda has planned. She, as usual, uses you as an example, the teacher’s good little pet who always knows just what she’s talking about, can always maneuver through a combination with ease with only verbal instructions. You constantly worry this will make your fellow peers dislike you, but it is not their approval which you seek. And the way that Wanda always smiles and claps her hands when you’ve finished is more than enough. You have become a girl only living for Ms. Maximoff’s praise, always seeking it, always doing all you can to get it.

Today, you stand at the very far end of the barre, your back to wall instead of any other students, and Wanda certainly takes advantage of this. She lingers near you for far too long, gently pinching the flesh at your hip to make you giggle far too loudly, taking your sweatpants from you when you grow too warm, whispering dirty little phrases to you which make you blush deeper than a tomato. At least, you think they’re dirty. She speaks French, so you’re not entirely sure what it is she teases you with, but of course you blush and hide your face anyway. And, while they are often quite naughty, Wanda often finds herself whispering utter nonsense, be it a lyric to a song stuck in her head or the name of a French pastry she’s craving, just to see the way your knees lose balance. She has never once in her life been a tease, but for some reason, she just cannot help it. She loves to watch you squirm.

The class is over far too quickly for your liking. It always is. Though you spend nearly half of your week’s hours in this studio with Ms. Maximoff, it never ever feels like enough time. You always return home to an empty apartment, prepare yourself a meal that you’re sure Wanda would prepare far better, and do nothing but sulk until you can return to her side. You pull on your sweatpants and thickest wool socks, intentionally taking a very long time so that the other students will leave you and Wanda alone, so that you may have even a minute longer to spend together, to talk about whatever it is she wants to talk about.

“Is that all you have to wear?” Calls that sweet voice, head tilting to the side, sheer worry present on her features. “No wonder you’ve been so cold! You poor thing…” Wanda comes to your side, eyebrows knitted as she tugs lightly on your sweatshirt, looking around the floor, but no winter coat to be seen.

“Oh, I’ll be alright… The bus ride home is short!” You smile sweetly, eyes scrunching a little to convey how happy you are that she’s worrying over you. She evidently cares so much for you, and the fact that she does makes your heart swell oh so much. It’s not often that someone looks after your needs, until Wanda began doing all of the worrying for you.

Wanda is clearly displeased, her hands drifting from only grabbing the fabric of your sweatshirt to holding the body that it conceals, squeezing gently at your hips as she is so regularly prone to. She adores the way you feel in her grasp, so malleable yet firm with muscle, her own little doll. That is, after all, what she so frequently calls you without your knowing.

“This won’t do…” She mumbles softly to herself, shaking her head a little, her discomfort over your own cold growing so great that she cannot focus. She does, eventually, shake it, once you’ve ensued her several times that you have a pair of gloves in your bag that you fully intend on wearing.

“I worry for you, my darling.” Wanda sighs gently, lifting one hand to push a hair out of your face that’s finally fallen from sweat penetrating hair gel. Her hand lingers for perhaps too long, the pads of her fingers stuck to your skin as though by glue. It could be minutes, hours, that you stand like this, the only sound a clock ticking in the distance, the entire building emptied for the evening. Though your mind is empty, barely able to focus, eyes only barely glancing at Wanda’s so perfectly sculpted features with all the amorousness in the world, she is busy considering. She is thinking of all the ways that doing what it is she wants to do will hurt you, will get you both in trouble, will ruin what is already such a wonderful thing you share.

Eventually, her heart wins the battle, and she gently tugs against your cheek, reaching so that your lips connect. Though the heaters in the room have turned off, she is so impossibly warm. Her lips, the matte pink becoming messy from the fervor of her kisses, are hot against your own, which have already begun their winter chapping, but Wanda does not notice. Even if she did, she would not care. She kisses you with so much passion you would believe it has been building up for years.

You lift your hands as well, and they settle on her hips, tugging gently at her leggings, which are so tight and accentuate her curves so well that you find yourself at her for far too long. Her body is such a source of distraction for you, that you often seem spaced-out in the middle of class when, in reality, you are simply entranced by the subtle swing of your instructor’s hips as she walks. You grip her waist now, though your fingers have grown cold again so much so that they barely find the grasp that they so desperately want. You have spent far too long wanting this very touch, wanting to feel the weight of Wanda’s chest against you so desperately, the warmth of her tongue forcing apart your lips. You have spent so long wanting this, that its final arrival has overwhelmed you all too much.

Wanda pushes you backwards until your back hits the wall, a bit uncomfortable for the way that the barre forces a curve in your spine, but Wanda’s hands coax you into comfort. Her hands stray beneath your sweater, looking for any flesh beneath the skin-tight leotard and tights that you wear, incredibly frustrated at the lack of touch. She wants nothing more than to strip you of your clothes, to replace them with her hands, but is not quite sure that you are entirely alone, so instead snakes her hand under material the best she can, kneading the flesh that she is able to, pressing her warmth there.

You are practically helpless under her dominating hold, her weight over you, combined with her desperate kisses, nearly suffocating, but you do not mind one bit. You are hers to grope as she pleases, high from her vanilla perfume, your own hands seeking her own skin beneath her layers of athletic clothing.

You whine gently when she pulls her mouth from your own, her lips shining from your lip gloss, though you cannot admire them for long before she attaches them to your neck, gently licking you there while your head throws back, gently hits the wall beside you. Wanda has positioned herself so that her hips align perfectly with yours, though she stands between your legs, one of which has lifted to wrap around her, pulling her ever closer. Your hips have begun to buck as if on instinct, which only makes Wanda laugh softly, has her hands grabbing at you, assisting in your desperate rocking for pleasure.

“Does that feel good, princess?” She whispers roughly against your ear, though her voice still carries her signature sweetness, only a bit lower, darker.

You nod quickly, words not forming in your throat, hands flying up to tangle in her hair, and though you’re barely thinking clearly, you force the hair tie out, allow her strawberry curls to fall over her shoulders, so that you may cling onto her hair. Wanda adores the small whimpers that fly from you, but she forces her hand up to cover your mouth, to muffle your perverted little moans that echo in the room.

“The door is still open, lapine,” she whispers again, her breath bated and shallow. “Don’t want anyone to catch us.” Wanda lifts her head, looks into your eyes until you nod your understanding, and she drops her hand. “Good girl.”

When her hand drops from your mouth, it drops back to the waistband of your sweatpants, which she slides beneath, finds the spot in your panties that has grown so wet that it has soaked through your leotard. This makes her grin against the skin of your collarbone which she has begun attacking with her kisses, her teeth grazing against what is sure to become a dark bruise come morning. She presses gently against your clothed cunt, fingers slipping beneath the leotard yet still barriered by tights and panties. She is angered by this, yes, but the way you begin to moan from even her smallest presses to your clit makes Wanda dizzy from need. After a moment of finicking she is able to rip a small hole in your tights, the material so thin that it does not take much effort. She makes a mental note to buy you another pair.

Wanda finally pushes away your underwear, once again smiling into your skin when she finds that it is so very lacy, not at all what she would expect for a two-hour long ballet class. She does not know that she is the very reason you’ve chosen this pair, that for some sick reason you always dress from head to toe the way you’d want her to see you, including underwear and lacy bra, no matter how unlikely it is for her to see it.

The feeling of your warmth elicits such a deep moan from Wanda that it forces one of your own, which you end abruptly for the way that your breath hitches when she slides one finger inside of you. She whispers something once again, again speaking in the language that makes your knees incredibly weak, but that does not matter for the way that Wanda holds you so tight. Her finger pumps into you so gently, as though you are made of porcelain and might break if she does any more. And though her kisses are so fervent and her grip on you is so strong, she holds you delicately, like you are just a sweet little thing for her to take care of, not only the subject of her lust.

“Can you take another?” She muses, voice salaciously kind, so protective and dominating as she presses a few gentle kisses to your jawline. You can only nod in answer to her question, your hands falling once again to grab at her ass, to pull your bodies closer both by your hand and the leg that has hooked around her waist.

Wanda does as she’s promised, though her pace is still slow, still coaxing the small, high-pitched moans from your lips as she desires. Your muscles are incredibly tense, and though you’ve spent the past hours warming and moving them, you feel so shell-shocked with pleasure that your body is hardly able to move, other than the instinctual rocking of your hips.

“Look in the mirror, princess.” Wanda whispers into your own lips before placing a kiss to them. “I want you to see how good Mommy is making you feel.”

The nickname that she’s claimed for herself has sent another shock of pleasure through you, the butterflies in your stomach only heightening in their flapping. You flutter your eyes open as instructed, always the most obedient for Ms. Maximoff, and though your eyes are blurry, you find yourselves in the mirror.

The image, Wanda enveloping you, her focus so intense on fucking you, her hair messy down her back, the sleeve of her sweater all bunched up around her elbow, makes you tense up. You’ve never felt anything quite like it, and as Wanda’s thumb gently caresses your clit, you feel all of your muscles tense, your squeezing of her ass sure to leave some sort of bruise of its own. Wanda gently kisses you a few more times, her lips grown swollen from the dedication of her kisses. Her fingers continue to glide into you, as she allows you to ride her until your body grows overtired from it and falls limp against the wall.

“Good girl,” Wanda repeats, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek before she backs up only a little, looks over you, sees how flushed your skin has become, how heavy your eyelids are. She adores the little mess of a girl she’s made of you, and as she removes her hand from your pants, licks it clean, she cannot help but feel proud of herself.

By the time you open your eyes, Wanda has returned to her typical worrying self, though she looks so impossibly relaxed. Her skin is pink from your shared warmth, her lipstick so very messy, it makes you giggle a little.

“Please, let me drive you home?” She practically begs, but you take no convincing. You assess your appearance for only a moment before racing to her side, looping your arm around hers and grabbing your bag. You shyly press a kiss to her cheek as you step out into the winter, the air bitingly cold, yet you don’t feel it, for your entire body is still radiating from Wanda’s heat.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Reader

Words: 3400

Warnings: absolutely none

Summary: You’d instituted a rule to yourself early on in your relationship with Alexia. When she hugs you, you’re never, ever, the first to let go.

When you first joined Barça, Alexia was a mystery to you. Her reputation had preceded her—captain, star of the team, adored by fans, admired by her teammates. But there was something about her that felt almost untouchable. She wasn't cold, exactly. She was kind, in her quiet way. If someone was struggling, she'd give a supportive nod or a clap on the back, a reassuring "You've got this." And whenever someone scored, she was the first to throw her arms around them, her smile wide as she celebrated alongside them.

Still, there was a distance, a quiet reserve about her that seemed to hold everyone at arm's length. Her kindness was there, her support was there, but it felt...controlled, restrained, like she was always aware of the boundaries she set around herself. You'd often catch her standing just on the edge of the celebrations, offering a warm smile and a congratulatory pat without ever fully letting herself be swept away.

But then, six months into your time at Barça, things between you and Alexia changed. What started as a friendship had deepened, turning into something you hadn't anticipated. The spark between you both had been undeniable, and soon enough, you'd found yourself in a relationship with the very person you'd once thought was a mystery.

It didn't take long for you to realize just how wrong your initial impression of her had been. Because with you, Alexia was anything but reserved. In the quiet moments you shared, she was softer, gentler, and, much to your surprise, incredibly affectionate. She'd hold your hand at every opportunity, her fingers laced with yours as though they were meant to fit that way. When she hugged you, she didn't hold back—her arms would wrap around you tightly, her face nestled into your shoulder as though she wanted to be as close as possible.

You quickly noticed she seemed almost insatiable when it came to touch. She'd come up behind you while you were tying your cleats, wrapping her arms around your waist in a back hug, her chin resting on your shoulder as she murmured a soft "Hola, mi amor." She'd pull you into a hug before training, her embrace lingering just a second too long as if she needed that extra moment with you before letting you go. After practice, she'd hold you close, her arms snug around your waist, breathing in slowly like she was recharging just by being near you.

It became clear that with you, there was no distance, no reserve. Her affection came in constant, steady bursts, like she was trying to make up for all the times she had to hold back around others. And you didn't mind one bit. In fact, you loved it.

Early on, you realized that Alexia was like this because she wanted—no, needed—that closeness. And you'd noticed how, sometimes, she'd hesitate ever so slightly before letting go. She'd hold onto you a second longer, her hands reluctant to leave their place at your waist or her arms slow to drop from around your shoulders. Those little moments were enough to make you create a rule for yourself—a rule she didn't know about.

You decided you would never be the one to end a hug first.

If Alexia hugged you, you wouldn't pull away. It didn't matter if you were on the training field, surrounded by teammates, or standing in the hallway outside the locker room. If her arms found their way around you, you'd let her be the one to break the embrace. It was a quiet promise you'd made to yourself, a way to give her the comfort she seemed to crave, even if she wasn't fully aware of it.

This rule led to some interesting moments. In training, she'd hug you after a good play, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as she laughed in that bright, happy way that made her eyes crinkle. You'd stand there, arms wrapped around her, waiting patiently as she let herself bask in the moment. She'd eventually pull away, her smile wide, but there was always that split second where she seemed reluctant to let go.

After matches, when you were both exhausted but happy, she'd lean into you, her forehead pressing against your shoulder as she sighed contentedly. You'd just hold her, your hands tracing soothing patterns across her back. If anyone noticed, they didn't say anything; they'd just smile knowingly, used to the sight of their captain held close in your arms.

Some days, the hugs would last longer than others. She'd find you in the locker room after training, her arms slipping around your waist as she rested her head on your shoulder. Those were the moments you treasured most, the quiet, private times when she'd let down her guard completely. You'd stand there, her body pressed close to yours as she relaxed into you, her breathing slowing as she settled in. She'd eventually pull away, of course, but you could feel the way she lingered, just for a moment, as though reluctant to let the closeness go.

One night, after a particularly intense match, she found you in the empty tunnel leading out to the pitch. You'd just finished speaking with a coach, and when you turned around, she was there, her face soft and tired but her eyes warm. Without a word, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around you, her grip tight and firm. You didn't hesitate, just held her close, one hand resting on the small of her back, the other cradling her head as she relaxed against you.

Her body softened as she leaned into you, her weight a reassuring presence. She was quiet, just breathing steadily, her hands pressed flat against your back as though she wanted to feel every inch of you. You stood there for what felt like ages, just holding her, letting her soak in the comfort of your embrace. The world around you faded, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

Eventually, she pulled back, her eyes meeting yours, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. She didn't say anything, just pressed a soft kiss to your cheek before squeezing your hand and leading you back to the locker room.

Over time, everyone else noticed too. If they saw Alexia and you wrapped up in each other, they'd just smile or give you both a quick nod, letting you have that moment. The team understood, even if they didn't know about your little rule. They'd learned that, in those quiet seconds when she was in your arms, she was getting something she couldn't find anywhere else. It was her way of grounding herself, a way to let herself feel without the need for words.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

*

After nearly two years together, you could read Alexia like no one else could. She might not wear her emotions openly, especially around the team, but you'd learned to catch the subtle cues. Today, her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, and her responses during practice were clipped. She moved with her usual focus, but there was a heaviness to her, a weight you could feel even from across the field. You knew she was having a bad day, even if she wasn't ready to admit it aloud.

Practice wrapped up, and as you chatted with Mapi in the locker room, you noticed Alexia heading toward you, her eyes soft but tired. Without a word, she moved into your arms, letting her body melt against yours as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. She didn't say a thing, just slipped her arms around your waist, holding on tightly. You murmured a gentle "hello" in her ear, letting her know you were there, but beyond that, you kept quiet, simply holding her as she breathed in slowly, almost like she was trying to steady herself.

You were just a bit taller than Alexia, which meant she could tuck perfectly into your neck, and she seemed to appreciate the closeness, pressing herself against you as though your warmth alone could keep her anchored. Your hands fell into a familiar rhythm—one wrapped over her shoulders while the other instinctively cupped the back of her head, your fingers threading through the loose strands of her hair. She sighed, her breath soft against your skin, as if some small part of her tension was easing away just from being held.

Mapi was still talking beside you, something about the upcoming match, and you tried to keep up, nodding and offering the occasional "Mm-hmm," though your attention was mostly on the woman in your arms. Mapi, for her part, didn't seem fazed by Alexia's sudden appearance in your embrace; she was used to the little moments you two shared. She just continued chatting, a warm smile playing on her lips as she glanced between you and Alexia, clearly understanding that this was exactly what Alexia needed.

As the minutes slipped by, you noticed that Alexia showed no signs of moving. She'd gone almost completely quiet, her breathing soft but steady against your neck, her grip around you still firm as if she had no intention of letting go. She was simply taking a moment, gathering herself without having to speak or put on a brave face.

The locker room gradually emptied out as teammates filtered out to finish their day. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen, and soon it was nearly empty, only the faint hum of distant voices and the muffled sounds of lockers closing down the hall. Mapi gave you a quick nod and a smile as she left, leaving the two of you in relative silence, only the quiet echo of the empty room around you. With just the two of you remaining, you felt Alexia relax even further, her entire body leaning more heavily against yours.

Sensing she wasn't ready to move, you carefully lowered yourself onto the small bench in your cubby, coaxing her with a soft tug until she settled in your lap. She shifted her weight, legs sliding to either side of your hips, her hands coming up to rest at the nape of your neck as she eased down, now straddling you completely. Your arms wrapped securely around her waist, holding her close, and she leaned her forehead against yours for a moment before settling her head on your shoulder, her whole body flush against yours.

You let one hand settle on her back, your thumb tracing slow circles over the fabric of her training jersey just above the small of her back, while your other hand rested low on her hip, keeping her grounded. The steady rhythm of your hand was meant to soothe, to remind her that she didn't need to hold everything together right now. She could just be here, in this moment, with you.

Her breathing had evened out, deep and measured, each exhale brushing softly against your neck. She'd closed her eyes, lashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks, her face softening as she sank further into the comfort of your embrace. There was something deeply intimate in the quiet between you, the unspoken understanding that she could take all the time she needed.

You shifted slightly to get more comfortable, adjusting so you could support her more fully, feeling her relax even further. She was so close, her body completely draped over yours, and you could feel her heartbeat in sync with yours. The closeness was grounding for both of you, a small moment of connection that felt more like home than any words could capture.

Minutes passed, the silence growing heavier but never uncomfortable, more like a shared weight you were both willing to carry. The small circles you traced on her back seemed to ease the remaining tension in her muscles, and every so often, she'd release a soft sigh, her breath warm against your skin.

In moments like this, you realized just how much Alexia needed these quiet, steady moments where she didn't have to lead or be the captain, where she could just rest and let herself be vulnerable. And you were more than willing to give that to her, to hold her and let her lean into the comfort she couldn't always find elsewhere. As she settled more deeply against you, you tightened your hold on her waist, reassuring her that you weren't going anywhere. That you'd keep holding her, keep being there, as long as she needed.

Nearly an hour had slipped by, the locker room around you silent and still. Alexia finally shifted, easing herself back just a fraction, her eyes meeting yours with a softness that made your heart swell. Her forehead pressed gently against yours, the soft warmth of her breath brushing your face as she exhaled, almost as if she were savoring every second in this quiet embrace.

You kept one arm wrapped securely around her back, and with your free hand, you reached up to tuck a damp strand of her hair behind her ear, fingers lingering just slightly as you brushed her cheek. She searched your eyes with a tentative, almost vulnerable look, and in a quiet murmur, she asked, "Why do you... always let me hold you this long? Why don't you ever... complain or pull away?”

The question was whispered, barely a sound between you, but the meaning of it was as clear as day. She wasn't just asking about this moment; she was asking why you had always, without hesitation, let her lean on you when she needed to, why you gave her all the time she could ever need without a single question or comment.

You smiled softly, leaning in just a bit closer. "Because I love you, Ale," you said simply, honestly. "If you need to be held, I'm here. If you want to stay close, I'll hold you for as long as you need. That's it. No other reason."

Alexia's eyes softened, a few silent tears gathering at the edges as she stared at you, absorbing the quiet sincerity in your words. Then, without another word, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, her touch tender, full of gratitude that she didn't need to put into words. Her lips lingered against yours for a moment before she tucked her face back into the curve of your neck, her hold on you tightening as if drawing strength from your closeness.

Minutes slipped by, each one stretching into the next as you held her, your hand gently rubbing her back in soothing circles. She nestled into you, her breathing even and steady, but she spoke quietly again, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to let go," she murmured, her words muffled but carrying a weight you understood completely. "You... you need to make me."

You felt a soft chuckle rise in your chest, but you shook your head, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "Not happening, Ale. I'll stay here until you're ready to let go yourself."

A small huff escaped her, a half-hearted expression of mock frustration, and you could almost feel her pout against your shoulder. "If that's true... we'll be here all night."

You shrugged slightly, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "Then we'll be here all night."

For a brief second, she was silent, and then a faint, soft laugh escaped her. She lifted her head just enough to meet your eyes, her gaze shimmering with warmth and something deeper. "I love you, you know that?" Her voice was quiet, but the intensity in her words was unmistakable. "You're... everything I could have ever wanted."

The sincerity in her words sent a warmth flooding through you, and you reached up to gently cup her cheek. "I love you too, Ale. More than you could ever know."

She smiled, the expression lighting up her entire face, and for a brief moment, she let herself relax fully, all traces of tension and weariness melting away as she held you close. Eventually, though, you could feel her start to settle, her breathing slowing, her grip on you softening slightly as the weight of the day seemed to catch up with her.

Sensing that it was time to get her home, you made a quiet decision. Without asking her if she was ready to go, you slipped your hands beneath her thighs, steadying her as you shifted your weight and rose to your feet. Alexia's eyes widened, startled, but before she could say a word, you flashed her a reassuring smile. "Hold on tight," you murmured, feeling her arms tighten instinctively around your shoulders as her legs wrapped around your waist.

A faint, tearful laugh escaped her, the sound soft and filled with the warmth of surprise. She looped her arms around your neck, her football-boot-clad feet crossing just beneath your behind as she buried her head back into the curve of your neck, her hold on you unwavering. "You're crazy," she murmured, her voice laced with affection as she nuzzled closer, her laughter still lingering in her tone.

You grinned, giving her a gentle bounce in your arms as you adjusted your grip, making sure she was comfortable. "Maybe. But you secretly love it."

A soft huff escaped her, and you could feel her smile against your shoulder. "Maybe," she murmured, and you felt her press the faintest kiss to your neck, her lips lingering there for just a second before she nuzzled even closer, her head tucked securely against you.

With one last glance around the now-empty locker room, you shifted her weight in your arms, one arm supporting her beneath her butt while the other kept her close, your grip firm and steady. Her kitbag and your own dangled from your shoulder as you began to make your way toward the exit, Alexia's weight a comforting presence against you as you walked.

The hallway was quiet, the echoes of your footsteps the only sound as you carried her toward the exit. Her breathing was soft and even, her body completely relaxed against yours as though surrendering fully to the quiet comfort you offered. She held on to you, her arms looped around your shoulders, her fingers curling gently into the fabric of your shirt, as though grounding herself in the closeness you shared.

The journey to the car felt timeless, every step bringing a new sense of peace as you held her close. Her head rested against your shoulder, her breaths warm and steady against your neck, each exhale a quiet reminder of the trust she placed in you. For Alexia, letting her guard down like this wasn't easy, but with you, she allowed herself to be vulnerable, to find comfort in your arms without a single worry or reservation.

When you finally reached the car, you paused, giving her a gentle squeeze as you whispered, "We're here, Ale." She didn't move, didn't lift her head or even loosen her grip, and for a moment, you considered simply holding her a while longer, content to stay wrapped in each other's presence for as long as she needed.

But after a few quiet seconds, she lifted her head, her gaze meeting yours with a soft, almost drowsy expression. She smiled, her eyes warm and grateful, and you could see the depth of her feelings for you in that one simple look. She pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, her fingers brushing along your shoulder as she whispered, "Thank you. For... everything."

Your smile softened, and you tilted your head, meeting her gaze with equal warmth. "Always, Ale. For as long as you need."

With a final, lingering glance, she released her hold on you, allowing you to set her down gently on her feet. Her hand found yours as she steadied herself, her fingers curling into yours with a soft squeeze as she leaned against you, her eyes filled with a quiet gratitude that needed no words.

And as you stood there together in the calm of the evening, her hand in yours and her heart close to yours, you knew that this, right here, was exactly where you both wanted to be. No words needed, no promises required—just the quiet understanding that in each other's arms, you'd both found something real, something worth holding onto.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @codiemarin @girlgenius1111 @goldenempyrean @silentwolfsstuff @simp4panos @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[sansaorgana]

— IN PERPETUITY (I)

PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Maia!Reader

SUMMARY — Two most powerful Lieutenants of Morgoth and twisted lovers in private form a pact through cursed marriage to become their master's equal successors and rule Middle-earth together. He, however, has other plans and does not intend to share. She takes the matters into her own hands.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The idea for this fic showed up in my head while I was working on a different fic with a Maia!Reader, in which she is good and pure and all that. And that other story will be finished and posted, too, but with a delay because I focused on this one first. 🙈 The Reader in this fic is a Maia, so she changes her appearance like Sauron does but I am not describing any of her forms in any details. This fic will have a second part with Annatar!Sauron but in this part you get only Jack Lowden!Sauron because that ginger loser needs some love and attention as well. 😭🥰 The title of the fanfic and its vibe are inspired by the song Sugarbread by Soap&Skin. Special thanks to @dinsbeskar for giving me the most appreciated feedback before I posted this fic! 💕

WARNINGS — Reader is evil-evil with sadistic undertones, betrayal, murder, manipulation, gaslighting, blood drinking/pact/magic, mentions of Sauron being tortured by Morgoth, SMUT, sub!Sauron

WORD COUNT — 4,650

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

IN PERPETUITY (I)

It was no surprise to any of The Valar that you were one of the first to follow Morgoth. You always found it troublesome to obey the orders, to show respect or loyalty. As if you had been already created flawed, although no one dared to question Eru’s decisions.

The gods were aware, however, that Morgoth wanted you as his servant as well for he was a god like them. Therefore, they expected you to come back with your tail between your legs, begging for their forgiveness since they were much more merciful masters than he ever would be.

Nevertheless, that did not happen and you became one of the most loyal Lieutenants to the Dark Lord. You sometimes amazed your own self with the amount of cruelty you were able to inflict. Perhaps Eru himself had created you this way indeed – perhaps you were evil by his design. Dark creatures like Morgoth or you were needed to emphasise the lightness – cursed outcasts to show an example.

Morgoth did not even need to break you as much as others who had followed him. He did not feel the need to rebuild you or push you as far as most of his followers because it did not take much for you to become the very worst version of yourself.

You were the lucky one.

Mairon was not.

You could hear his whimpers and screams of pain as he was tortured. And you watched and watched in awe at him transforming with Morgoth's help into the man that would from now on be known as Sauron amongst many.

But to you he would remain Mairon. And Mairon watched you in awe, too.

He observed you with admiration and curiosity. He wanted to be more like you – so terrifyingly beautiful in your art of cruelty. And he was learning the craft from you.

Until, eventually, with your master's help and by his twisted design, Mairon became a Lieutenant as loyal and fierce as you.

And each time he failed at a task given to him by Morgoth, he would come to you first, seeking comfort and hoping you would ease your master before their encounter – like a child would come to their mother, fearing their father's anger.

Everyone knew Morgoth was gracing you with a special treatment. And even though it was unlikely he was able to feel any real affection towards you, many knew that you were the only Lieutenant of his that he actually cared about because you were the only one who abandoned The Valar thoroughly and wholly.

You did not care about him, though. The Valar were right – you did not enjoy being under him; under anyone. And you truly hated the destruction that he was causing as you could not understand the desire of becoming the King of ashes.

You wanted to be the Dark Lady yourself and you often fantasised what you would do if you were him. His god-like status did not intimidate you and you could not care less whether it was a blasphemy or not to imagine yourself as a Vala. No god had ever intimated you.

You were your own god and you wanted to rule over the world. To make it perfect and harmonious.

You became closer with Mairon when you sensed his heart was corrupted with the same thoughts and feelings. And while your Maiar bodies remained focused on the battles and schemes – so unfamiliar with the carnal desires of the flesh – as you spent more and more time together and he shared with you his dream of forging the very special and powerful Rings, you could feel the strange and odd desire growing within you.

One day, you gave in to them.

You heard his screams of pain throughout the fortress like the ones back in the day when Morgoth had been shaping him to his whim and design. Now he was punishing him for one of his failures and your master’s wrath was undeniable.

Mairon was one of his best Lieutenants, therefore Morgoth expected from him the most.

And when the punishment ended, Mairon found himself knocking weakly upon the doors of your chambers. You opened them and gasped at the state of his flesh. He was too weak to heal himself fully, allowing the bruises to form and cuts to bleed.

You welcomed him and laid him down in your bed before tangling your limbs with his; his face buried in your chest as your fingers brushed his ginger hair and gently teased his pointy ears.

"My poor Mairon," you whispered and leaned in to place a kiss upon his temple.

He looked up at you with devotion.

Unlike you, he had been once Eru’s perfect creation – Mairon had been pure in his past, worshipping the Valar like he had been designed to. The Valar were no more in his heart but the devotion remained and you were the subject of it.

"Let me ease your pain," you spoke softly and caressed his cheek with your fingers, making the small cuts disappear as bruises began to fade away. He closed his eyes and sighed out of relief. "Where else can I aid you, my Mairon?" You asked as his eyelids fluttered and opened.

"Everywhere," he breathed out. "I need you everywhere, my Lady."

The odd desire you had been fighting within you for a long time now apparently was not one-sided. Perhaps a Maia fallen was a Maia burdened with such humiliating and carnal needs.

You rolled him over onto his back as you sat astride him with a sparkle of excitement in your eyes. Maybe it was not a burden... Maybe it would be a new adventure, a new path to follow.

You got rid of his robes in a haste as his hands weakly caressed your thighs wherever they could reach under your dress. And once he was naked for you – under you – you felt like an animal, driven by the urges you could not stop.

That felt ungodly.

Your fingers curled on his chest, scratching the flesh and you watched your nails leave red trails upon his pale skin. Instead of healing him, you only added more to the pain but the pathetic whimpers leaving his mouth were not of suffering but of pleasure.

"Yours..." was all he gasped as your pupils widened even further. Yours... How good it felt to have him at your mercy.

You were like Morgoth himself now with Mairon laid out for you, eager for you to shape him the way you wished him to be.

And you loved to feel like Morgoth, to share at least a tiny bit of his power. The realisation was enough to make you feel the itch deep inside the heat of your core.

"Mine..." you nodded at Mairon and grasped his length to squeeze it, watching him wince as the flesh hardened under your touch.

You kept pumping him and observing all his sighs, eye rolls and the tremble of his thighs. His eyes filled with tears as he kept bravely staring up at you despite his vision getting blurry and hazy.

Your pace quickened and you used your free hand to caress his thighs gently as if you were trying to soothe them but it only caused them to tremble more while you watched his body giving in to your touch so eagerly and easily.

All of the sudden, just to tease him, you stopped your hand's rapid movements and squeezed the swollen tip. Mairon whined and bucked his hips desperately, the tip of his cock pulsating under your thumb. When you let go of him completely, he spilled himself with a groan and blushing cheeks as his hips kept rutting into nothing.

What a pathetic and yet delicious sight it was. You felt the wetness between your legs leaking down your thighs already.

“You're so fun to play with, my Mairon," you pointed out. "I wish our master allowed me to be the one responsible for your punishments."

"I wish that, too, my Lady," he breathed out, putting his hand on his chest, surprised to feel how fast his heart pounded.

"It is not over yet," you pouted. "You spoiled my fun by giving in to your desires so quickly."

You smirked and with one swift movement you took your dress off to throw it on the floor, revealing your naked form to him. You adjusted yourself and grabbed his cock once more, so swollen and sensitive, which caused Mairon to whimper. You lowered yourself slowly on his length, hissing at the new experience of feeling full.

Your eyes rolled all the way to the back as you threw your head and scratched Mairon's chest when you felt his cock hardening once more inside of you and brushing all the right spots that made you aware of pleasures of the flesh you had never even known of before.

"Divine," he breathed out and you rolled your hips slowly with a whine.

When you adjusted to the slightly burning feeling, your eyes opened with a sparkle of mischief as you began riding him – faster and faster with each given bounce, keeping your eye contact with him although his vision was too hazy to see you clearly.

It was like a trance and you lost track of time. The Maiar needed no rest, therefore it could have been days – maybe even weeks – spent on nothing else but fucking yourself on his cock, using him for your own, newlyfound pleasure; reaching your highs countless of times and beginning all over and over again until the matters much more important than indulging yourselves interrupted your blissful state.

"One day, there will be only the two of us," Mairon whispered into your ear as he watched you getting dressed in front of the mirror. "And we will not leave our chambers for a whole century."

"Would you leave your kingdom unattended for such a long time?" You raised an eyebrow at him. "I certainly would not," you added harshly and fixed your gown's corset one last time before leaving him behind inside your chambers as you walked out with your head held high and back straightened.

With an illusion of dignity that was supposed to hide the fact you had just spent long and endless days on worshipping Mairon’s flesh with nothing but pleasure and devotion as he had been only laying there and receiving and you had been the one to do all the work like he was the master you served.

After Morgoth's defeat, Mairon and you both were the only ones who could possibly become your master's successors for you were his most powerful Lieutenants.

Instead of starting a war between yourselves, you chose to create a pact of taking over Morgoth's legacy together as equals.

The holy bond of marriage was the most suitable way to seal this union for all eternity, especially when it seemed that you two shared the same goal and the same vision of healing Middle-earth and crafting it to fit your peaceful ideal.

The oath had nothing to do with the holy Valinor's customs. You used forbidden dark magic to bind you two together in perpetuity; mixing your black bloods together and drinking the cursed mixture from the cup as you exchanged the rings forged by Mairon himself with your aid; made of dark iron and with powerful spells engraved on them.

Adar was the master of your ceremony. He had stayed by your side after Morgoth's defeat and Mairon had promoted him to the rank of Lieutenant because you two needed smart and loyal people – especially if they had a whole army of the Orcs following their every order.

You could sense your marriage pact with Marion was making Adar a little uncomfortable. He was watching you carefully throughout the ceremony and also during the feast where he was sitting nearby.

Mairon's behaviour was surprising you a little. Never before he had been so open with the amount of his devotion towards you. And now, despite the audience of the Orcs and the fallen Elves, he was all over you, kissing your neck between the sweet nothings whispered into your pointed ear as his fingers intertwined with yours under the table to squeeze your hand.

He was like a dog, you thought, but you could not blame him. He had admired you from the very beginning of his service to Morgoth and now he had you as his spouse. You allowed him to enjoy himself because it was the day of your wedding.

For you, it was more of a transaction. You cared about Mairon to some extent and your flesh enjoyed to fuck his but there was nothing in this world that you would love more than power.

"My Lady, can we talk?" Adar approached you when you were left alone for a moment.

You looked up, surprised, but the seriousness of his expression was making it obvious that the matter was rather important.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" You asked him as you followed him to the dark corner of the room where you could hide in the shadows together.

"I am a bearer of the bad news, I am afraid," Adar started and you furrowed your brows.

"Did Elven armies find our fortress?" You asked.

"No. Not the bad news of this kind," he lowered his voice even more and he glanced at Mairon from the corner of his eye.

You looked at your husband, too. He was talking to some of the fallen Elves and his excitement was revealing that he probably discussed his plans for the future.

"Do continue," you nodded at Adar, looking back at him with curiosity.

"Mairon does not plan to share anything with you," he informed you. "He re-fired Morgoth's crown to fit himself."

Your blood turned cold at the revelation. Morgoth's crown was supposed to be melted and turned into two smaller but equal crowns. That was the deal between you and Mairon – two spouses, two crowns, two Rings, one kingdom.

You glanced once more at your husband. How innocent he seemed at the moment, how devoted to you. And yet…

Your own student outsmarted you in the art of cunning treachery, so it seemed. You gritted your teeth.

"How do you know?" You asked Adar just to make sure.

"I was there," he answered with a hint of smirk, knowing very well that his delay of bringing you the news created a new problem for you.

"And you are telling me this only now? After I am bound to him forever?" Your jaw clenched out of anger as you realised.

"I have been a loyal servant to your husband and it still pains me to betray him by telling you the truth but I must think of my children first and at this very feast I overheard his plans for the Uruk. I cannot let this happen," he revealed and you sighed. You knew what plans he was talking about.

Mairon had never considered the Orcs to be smart creatures, therefore he often was speaking freely and openly about what he planned to do with them or what he was thinking of them because he thought they would not even understand.

Perhaps they would not but their Lord Father would.

"I have never been fond of your children either, Adar," you reminded him.

"Yet you make a better ally than he. I know you can give up on enslaving the Uruk if I helped you to rule over Middle-earth with their army in return. Alone. A Queen with no King," he whispered and his tempting words sent a shiver down your spine.

After a very short moment of hesitation – which surprised you to exist at all – you nodded at Adar.

“Say no more,” you whispered.

And when Mairon informed you a few weeks after your wedding that he wanted to be crowned soon and that he wished for you to be the one to put Morgoth’s crown onto his head, you agreed with a sweet smile that should have made him realise how false it was. But he was too relieved with the fact that you seemed to have no problem at all with giving him the most important title, therefore he did not notice the coldness of your gaze.

"My dear," he kneeled in front of you while you were sitting on the edge of your bed and he held your hands softly in his as he leaned in to kiss them. "It brings me so much joy to know it will be you to lay the crown onto my head. I do not wish for anyone else to bless me for I would not be here if it was not for you."

"Indeed, my sweet Mairon," was all you said with a scolding gaze but, once again, he chose not to see it. “My King,” you added with irony – one more time the tone of your voice remained ignored.

Sometimes, he would use his illusions to fool even himself. And that very thing would turn out to be his demise.

“You will be my right hand, my Queen, my goddess,” he kept assuring you and kissing the palms of your hands as you kept gritting your teeth.

His right hand, he dared to say. You were supposed to be one body, one soul. His Queen and yet she would bear no crown – not the same as his at least. His goddess but his devotion was a lie. He loved power more than he loved you.

But you loved power more than you loved him as well, so it was only fair.

And how else could you repay for his betrayal if not with a betrayal in return?

You already had a whole plan formed with Adar and all you had to do now was to patiently wait for the day of the coronation. You truly hoped that Morgoth's crown was powerful enough to kill your husband, so he could exist no more and so would the bond of blood magic between you be broken forever.

You were wearing beautiful, matching robes with your husband and your only audience were the Orcs and Adar, who was holding Morgoth’s crown as Mairon decided to give a speech to his new army.

You couldn’t help yourself as you kept glancing at the re-fired and re-shaped crown with a bitter and sour expression. 

“Always, after a defeat… the shadow takes another shape and grows again. Morgoth is gone,” your husband announced to the Orcs. “Leaving us alone and disgraced. But today, a new age begins,” he added and you exchanged a meaningful look with Adar at the sight of Mairon’s fingers fidgeting nervously. “Under me. Your new master. Sauron.”

It should have been you. Giving the speech. Being crowned. And you would be. Soon. Very soon.

However, you loved the dramatics as much as your husband. And you would gladly allow him to make a fool out of himself first.

“And with a new age, I bring a new vision. A path to unconditional conquest. For I seek a new kind of power,” Mairon raised his right hand as he spoke, posing to be some sort of a sage sharing his wisdom. “Not of the flesh, but over flesh. A power of the unseen world. One we shall use to enslave the peoples of Middle-earth to our very will.”

The Orcs seemed to be content with his words and for that one thing you admired him, actually – the way he always knew what to say to make people follow him and be enamoured with his visions.

You knew that he did not care about what the Orcs wanted and the words he was using now were nothing but a temptation for them to obey his orders. But it was them he wanted enslaved, not the others. The others were meant to be healed.

“Many Orcs will die,” Mairon added and you felt Adar moving uncomfortably. The Orcs did not seem to be as happy as before and you could not blame them. You glanced at your husband with a raised eyebrow.

Sometimes, even the ones most graced with a gift of the golden speech, would say a sentence too many.

“But out of the chaos, we will forge a new and perfect order. No longer will we be hunted as the demons who broke Middle-earth, but rather worshipped as the saviours who finally healed it,” Mairon smiled, excitedly and you rolled your eyes. “By bringing its peoples together, to rule them all as one!” He raised his hands but he was overdoing himself, it was too much and the Orcs were not as stupid as he believed them to be.

You could sense their nervousness and you could hear their whispers in the Black Speech: “Sauron lies”.

It brought you lots of satisfaction as you smirked to yourself, however you had to hide that smile quickly because your husband’s eyes desperately seeked for yours. He needed your comfort and your encouragement, so pathetically. So desperate to prove his worth as he had always been.

You nodded at him with a sympathetic smile, playing a role of a dutiful and supportive wife.

“Doubt me at your peril,” he began once more but his voice slightly weakened as he did so and then he clasped his hands while his voice suddenly turned darker. He decided to use a different tactic. “You have nowhere else to turn. The Valar will never forgive you. Elves will never accept you,” he pointed out. “Men… Men will never look upon you with anything but horror and disgust,” he added with a hint of satisfaction and contempt.

Perhaps you were not as skilled as he was with your speeches but you knew that this was not the way to lure the Orcs. It was not the way to lure anyone. Mairon was losing control – even the fact his hands were clasped was only trying to hide how shaky they had become.

“A corrupted and ignoble race, worthy only to be haunted and slaughtered,” he continued as the Orcs began to growl. In that moment, you were glad you had your pact with Adar, because otherwise you would not feel safe amongst them.

Suddenly, one of the Orcs standing closest to Mairon attacked him with his blade, making an assassination attempt. Your husband swiftly defended himself and slit his throat, for which you were glad.

You would kill that Orc yourself if he maimed Mairon before you could lay your hands on him. He was yours to slaughter.

As the creature dropped down to his knees and continued choking on his own blood, you watched Mairon pull the Orc even closer and watch his suffering with the same fascinated expression as you had used to watch him when he had been reshaped by Morgoth.

And then, he finished the assassin off with his own blade being put into the Orc’s skull. Over and over again as Adar flinched at the sight of his son being treated this way and the Orcs kept growling in anger.

And you, in that moment – for a short while – actually considered following your husband like you had once followed Morgoth. To forgive him his betrayal and to play along the role of a dutiful wife.

His cruelty spurred you on as you watched and watched, refusing to look away until the Orc’s body hit the floor and Mairon threw away the blade to fix his ginger hair that had gotten messy from the fight.

You could sense his frustration. His blood was now flowing in your veins just like yours was flowing in his.

“I am your only future and my path is your only path!” He yelled at the Orcs, fury and rage filling him whole and causing the veins of his face to fill up and swell with his thick and black blood.

You cleared your throat, awkwardly. The admiration you had felt not even a minute earlier was all gone now and once again you felt ashamed of your husband.

Morgoth had never yelled desperately like that to get respect. He had never threatened – not so openly. His very presence had been enough to follow him out of fear.

“Who among you dare say otherwise?” Mairon asked, more calmly now.

Soon, he would find out who exactly dared.

But so far, he still trusted you. He turned his head around and nodded at you, his eyes filled with faith.

You nodded back and took Morgoth’s crown from Adar’s hands. It was heavy and powerful as its dark magic vibrated from it all throughout your body when you carried it towards the crowd.

The Orcs were snarling at you when you raised your hands with the crown, not pleased at all that you were about to lay it upon your husband’s head.

“All Hail, Lord Sauron!” Adar exclaimed in the Black Speech. “The New Dark Lord.”

The Orcs hesitated but they followed what their Lord Father said.

“All hail!” They chanted and you walked away to your husband, who had just kneeled for you.

Like in the old days, before all the battles Morgoth had been sending him to. Mairon would kneel and you would bless him with your sword.

You raised your hands once more as a thrill of excitement went through your body. Mairon looked up at you through the crown placed above his head and you could spot the hint of doubt. Your bond worked both ways and he could sense something disturbing about you but you soothed him with a soft and fake smile.

Unsurely, he lowered his head once more and looked down, waiting for you to grace his head with the burden of the crown.

And the crown was a burden indeed. So full of dark and powerful magic that you knew already it was most certainly enough to kill a spirit like your husband.

You turned it around in a swift movement and lowered it with all your strength to stab him in the back of his neck as the crown’s poison infected his veins and made him move back out of the sudden pain.

You took the crown away from him and took a few steps back to stand next to Adar as the Orcs began screaming and approaching you all. Mairon’s eyes were full of surprise and disappointment and he kept them only on you as you graced him with the same soft smile you had been giving him for weeks now; for him to finally realise how false it was all this time.

“You could have kept your promise, my pet,” you told him in the Quenya language.

Your words angered him and he tried to stand up with his weakened limbs to fight you but in that very moment a group of Orcs attacked him all at once, stabbing his flesh continuously as you watched. He was making an attempt to fight them back and for the state he was in, he was truly doing well, but they were too many and he was alone.

And even if some part of you would truly mourn for your husband, the dark item in your hand with his blood dripping down on the floor from its iron spikes was enough to bring your mind back on the right path.

And as the Orcs kept stabbing his body, which was laying now in the puddle of dark and sticky blood, you raised the crown once more and put it on your own head, feeling Mairon’s blood dripping from it onto your face.

You licked your lips to get the taste. For the one last time you tasted him as you smirked.

You turned your head around to nod at Adar and he nodded back at you.

All hail the New Dark Lady.

MASTERLIST

[2amriize]

𖹭.ᐟ RIIZE when they see someone flirting with you ༉‧₊˚.

pairing: bf!riize x reader — masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

It might seem like Shotaro always has a smile on his face, but there’s one thing that can instantly wipe it away: when someone approaches you to flirt. He knows how close the two of you are, and he’s confident you’d never cheat on him or anything like that. Still, the minutes that the guy was chatting with you, he simply stood quietly, watching you both from the side. He wouldn’t come over, though. But when you finally return to Shotaro, he’d flash you a big smile, acting as if nothing happened.

click to see other members reaction .ᐟ

⭑.ᐟ eunseok

Oh no, he doesn't like that. The moment he saw a guy talking to you after you came back from the bathroom, he didn’t hesitate to join you, standing right by your side with a small smile. You knew very well that Eunseok couldn’t resist letting any man know that you were his, so you figured he’d do something in front of this guy. And he did—he didn’t waste a second before cutting off the conversation and gently holding your face, kissing you slowly until the other guy felt uncomfortable enough to leave.

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

Sungchan can be very jealous, but let’s be honest—he can be a bit clueless sometimes. The second he saw another guy talking to you, he was by your side in no time. At first, you thought he’d say something to mark his territory and let the guy know you had a boyfriend (lol). But instead, he simply introduced himself and started chatting with the guy with a big smile on his face. The guy ended up stopping his flirting, but only because it now looked like he and Sungchan were the ones flirting.

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

He’s not quite sure how to react. He was only gone for a few seconds to pick up your coffee order, and when he returned, he saw a guy clearly flirting with you. You knew that the guy would leave the moment Wonbin approached—I mean, who could compete with a face like that? But Wonbin just waited for the guy to walk away on his own before coming back to you. He’s not the jealous type, and even though he’d never say it, he knew no other guy could compare to him, so he wasn’t too worried about it.

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

For him, it wouldn’t be a problem, and you’d both find it a bit funny. You and Seunghan have so much trust in each other that it’s no big deal if someone tries to flirt with you because you both know it’s pointless (you’re both too in love with each other). You’ve even had playful arguments about who got the most people flirting with them.

⭑.ᐟ sohee

Sohee wouldn’t be thrilled, either. He always says he’s not the jealous type, but you both know that’s not quite true. When he saw a guy chatting with you, he walked over, putting a hand around your waist and leaving a kiss on your cheek before looking at the guy with a smile and saying, “And you are...?”

⭑.ᐟ anton

He’d feel a bit jealous watching a guy come up to ask for your number, but he’s also well aware of how much you love him (and a little too shy to say anything to the guy). He’d slowly approach the two of you, standing quietly by your side as the guy continued talking. When you notice, you’d smile and give him a quick kiss on the lips, causing the other guy to leave pretty quickly once he realizes you have a boyfriend.

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies

[daisymbin]

what are we? - choi seungcheol

warnings: a cocky slightly obnoxious cheol

pairings: choi seungcheol x reader

genre: friends to???

wc: 1.1k

check out my masterlist!

“what are we, sweetheart?” seungcheol asked, a smug smirk ghosting over his face. his voice was casual, but the look in his eyes made your breath catch. it was the kind of playful cocky question he always asked, but something about this time felt different.

“what?” your confusion was evident, with an edge of irritation. your cheeks already starting to heat up now that you have his full attention.

seungcheol leaned back in his chair, tipping it slightly as he studied you. “you keep staring at me like that,” he said, teasing but with a hint of curiosity. “you into me or something?” he prods further, “you’re really not going to say anything?” his raised right eyebrow now joins his smirk, his voice dripping with playful challenge, like he was daring you to admit something.

your heart skipped a beat, but you forced a nervous laugh, hoping it would break the tension. “i wasn’t staring,” you insisted, averting your gaze quickly. “stop being so obnoxious.”

seungcheol let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward just enough so his face was closer to yours than it should’ve been; just inches away. “oh, come on. you know i can see right through you,” he teased, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk of his. “what’s with that look, hmm? don’t tell me you’re actually going shy on me now?”

the olympics marathon is currently being held in your head. they're racing, you're racing. YOUR HEART IS RACING. you scramble for a way out of this conversation, but you couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened at his closeness. “i’m not shy,” you mumbled, though your voice gave you away. “you just… say stupid things sometimes.”

seungcheol’s smirk only deepened, and the way his eyes glinted with mischief made your chest tighten. “stupid things?” he repeated, as though he was savoring the words. “so me asking what we are is stupid, huh?”

you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest. “yeah,” you said a little too defensively. “obviously we’re nothing but friends. you’re just an annoying, flirty friend. it’s nothing serious.”

his expression faltered, the cocky grin slipping for a second before his cocky mask quickly returned, a subtle shift in his demeanor. “so, you think i’m just messing around?” he asked, his voice still playful, but now it had a slight edge to it. something deeper, something almost serious beneath the surface.

“yeah,” you repeated, your voice quieter now, unsure. “you’re always joking, cheol. nothing's ever serious with you.”

he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded you. for a moment, everything went still. the usual playful banter was gone, replaced with something much heavier, much more charged. “is that what you think?” he asked, his voice softer, quieter than you’d expected, like he was genuinely hurt by your words.

seungcheol sighed, his usual cocky mask slipping completely as he watched you. “i don’t joke when i say i want you,” he said quietly, his voice sincere in a way you’d never heard before. “i don’t joke when i say you mean something to me.”

you blink once, and then twice. then, before his words fully registered in your head, he continues, “& I definitely wasn't joking when I said I like you.”

his words hang in the air, each one going off like fireworks in your head.

he tilted his head slightly, his eyes softening as they locked onto yours, almost searching for something in your expression. “i’m not always joking, you know,” he added, his voice even quieter now, as if he was afraid of what you might say next.

your chest tightened painfully. his words felt like a weight—heavy, real, undeniable.

“i can't tell if you're being serious-” you whispered, your heart racing as the words tumbled out before you could stop them; but seungcheol did.

seungcheol kept his eyes on you, his gaze unwavering, steady, affirming. “i'm not fucking with you, princess. I mean, unless?” he asked as he wiggled his eyebrows.

this time, you roll your eyes and you hit him on his chest lightly, “can you be serious for once?”

“alright, alright, i was joking about the fucking- but also not, well not the one before. you get what I mean.” he said hastily, a shit-eating grin adorning his handsome face.

seungcheol slowly reached for your hand, and when his fingers brushed against yours, the electricity between you both felt undeniable. “i mean it,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest. “i really do like you. a lot.”

you tried to find the familiar cocky, playful glint that his orbs always wear, but it was replaced with something deeper. something more vulnerable. you were still reeling from everything he had just said, trying to process it all.

“so tell me now, what are we, really?” his fingers lingered over yours, and he gave you a small, genuine smile. “i believe i already told you a long time ago how i feel about you, though, I wish you would have taken me seriously back then.” he repeated, his voice gentle. “so what do you say? because if it were up to me, we’d be something more. but it’s up to you, too.”

your heart thudded in your chest, and you found yourself leaning into his touch without thinking. the hope in his eyes, the vulnerability behind his usual cocky demeanor—it was enough to leave you speechless. but this time, you knew he wasn’t joking. he was waiting for your answer.

you don't say anything, not verbally at least. you take in a shaky breath, you let yourself smile back at him, your fingers curling to hold his.

seungcheol's eyes lit up at this, and he grinned, the smugness returning in a way that made your heart feel light. “finally,” he teased, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “i thought i was going to have to flirt with you forever to get you to see it.”

you laughed, the tension melting away, and this time, it felt different. it felt real. “well great, you can stop flirting now.” you say, relieved.

“oh, absolutely not,” seungcheol replied, his smile warm and genuine. “because now, you know I mean it & i know you’ll take me seriously.”

and as he leaned in closer, your laughter was swallowed by the way his eyes sparkled with something you’d been waiting to see all along: the promise that maybe everything he’d said before had been leading to this moment.

[marvelfanfics1]

Little Maybank

requested by anon

Pairing: brother!jj maybank x sister!reader

Warnings: suggestive comments/actions, brief mention of fighting, cursing, reader is a few years younger than JJ, protective!jj

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You and JJ walk side by side towards the entrance of the Pelican Yacht Club, the rest of the pogues waiting by the Twinkie for you both to get some valuable information that one of the waiters there has for a current little mission they're all on right now.

JJ has is hands stuffed into his pockets while you swing your arms back and forth, looking at all the luxurious yachts lined up by the docks.

"You think we'll have a yacht one day, Jay?" You ask sweetly.

"Sure, a big ass one for all of us." He answers with a smile, ruffling your hair a little to which you whine, batting his hand away and trying to fix it again while he chuckles.

JJ can't believe that even with how your guys life situation is he still manages to keep you far away from the harsh reality, always making sure you're not anywhere near Luke whenever he has one of his outbursts or beats him, telling you the bruises are from a fight with a kook.

All the pogues treat you like you're their little sister and protect you like one, never letting you go on their more dangerous missions and shielding you from any harm.

JJ will always see you as his baby sister, you're his responsibility and the only thing he takes seriously in his life, well of course he teases you like every normal brother does but only him, the pogues sometimes too but they know to not go too far.

Your bubbly and overall nice personality is both a blessing and a curse, your want to spread positivity everywhere you go is as admirable as it's frustrating because many people, especially kooks, don't deserve to witness your sweet nature.

Protecting you is JJ's top priority, he wants you to grow up better than he did and offer you a carefree life full of love and fun. He'll be damned if something ever happens to you.

After you both sneaked inside the club, looking for the guy that has information.

JJ finally locks eyes with him and nods his head towards the restrooms, the guy quickly getting the hint and you both walk over to them when JJ turns to face you.

"Stay right here. I'll be back in a minute." He instructs and you nod with a smile, watching him go inside the men's restroom, swaying a bit back and forth on your feet.

While you look around you hope that no one notices that you shouldn't be here, too sensitive for any confrontation no matter the reason.

A group of boys who are standing a few feet away nursing their drinks spot you. "Dude, isn't that little Maybank?

"Shit yeah. Means her dumbass of a brother can't be far. Not to mention they sure as hell aren't supposed to be here." One of them observes, a smirk forming on his face.

Your head snaps back to the restrooms as you see JJ come out again and make his way back to you. "A'ight, mission accomplished. Let's head back to the others."

You nod and you both went on when suddenly someone blocks your path.

"Whoa, not so fast, pogues. Here to steal your next meal huh?" A brunette with a smug expression teases you both.

JJ clenches his jaw, moving you behind him protectively, his hands balling at his sides. "Man, we don't want any trouble."

"Who are you trying to fool here, Maybank? Your poor asses shouldn't even be here."

JJ glares at him but unclenches his fists again when he feels your hands grab onto his bicep, trying to keep himself in check, not wanting you to see him lash out.

He took a deep breath, about to just walk past that douchebag when he hears you yelp suddenly as the guy's friend slapped your ass.

"That little beauty can stay tho." The black haired boy chuckles.

Before you could comprehend what just happened JJ swiftly turns and swings his fist, his knuckles connecting with the guy's jaw who had dared to touch you.

You gasp at that, stumbling back and against the brunette, quickly turning around to face him and without thinking twice you push him over the railing and watch him fall into the water.

Hearing several gasps from the club members and employees around you has you freezing, grappling the fact what you just did when JJ grabs your hand.

"C'mon! We gotta go!" He stresses, pulling you out of your shocked state and you instantly start running, hearing the way JJ laughs. "Oh my god that was crazy!"

Pope slides open the Twinkie's door from inside when he sees you both running and you jump in, your back hitting the wall.

"Bro drive!" JJ shouts at John B and he quickly starts the van as you and your brother keep panting.

"What the hell happened?" Kie asks, looking you both over concerned.

"You guys will never believe it..." JJ breathes heavily, glancing at you with a grin and you blush, a small smile forming on your face. "Our little angel here just pushed a kook into the water."

You're surprised when your friends start to cheer and ask questions excitedly, wanting to know what happened.

You giggle as Kie and Cleo wrap their arms around your neck from each side, their hurried questions overlapping each other.

Pope ruffles your hair just like JJ always does, and you can hear John B laughing behind the wheel, smacking it a few times while Sarah claps her hands.

Your smile stays rooted on your face, feeling happy and safe in your family's presence.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

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For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 4

And this story is back!!! Sorry about last week, but I really wanted to finish the rockstar AU.

In this we get, Chrissy and the girls being cute and everyone gets to know each other a little bit more.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~

Chrissy stayed the first day to help with the meltdowns but was a little surprised when Steve let them just lie on the floor.

Steve caught her raised eyebrow and huffed a laugh. “Sometimes the best way to deal with a temper tantrum is to ignore it. Plus, their dad just left for what is not short amount of time. He’s not coming back tomorrow or even next week. He’s going to gone for months. I think they deserve a little floor time, don’t you?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Huh. I never thought it of it like that.” She walked over to the girls and laid down next to them.

When Steve came back from making breakfast, he found both girls wrapped around Chrissy and all three of them sound asleep. He went back into the kitchen and carefully wrapped up their sandwiches. Lunch could wait.

It was some time later before any of them stirred. Joan was the first. She sat up and looked around. The sun had changed position so the room was darker. She spotted her sister and Chrissy, still asleep.

She wandered the house before she spotted Steve in his room reading.

“Well hello there,” he said gently. “Are you the only one awake?”

She nodded and crawled up on his lap. “I want Daddy, but I can’t find him.”

Steve set down his book and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Remember, Joanie, Daddy’s at work now, but he said he would call as soon as he plane landed. Has he called yet?”

Joanie looked up at him thoughtfully. “Would he call you or Aunt Chrissy?”

Steve scooped her up and started carrying her down the stairs. “He said he would call Chrissy tonight, then me every night I’m working. Which is why I’m taking back to her so you don’t miss his call.”

“Daddy is going to come back right?” she asked, his voice small. “Not like Papa?”

“Your daddy would never leave you like your papa did, Joanie,” Steve murmured. “He loves you too much.”

“Then why did he leave?”

Well he wasn’t sure how to answer that in a way she would understand. “Your daddy got a once in a life time opportunity to get back together with his band. He had work with four people’s schedules. But he loved you so much that he made sure that he had someone he could trust with you and Janie, okay?”

Joan nodded and wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck as he worked his way back to the front room.

Chrissy was just waking up, but Janice was still asleep. She looked at her watch and cursed.

“Aunt Chrissy said a bad word,” Joan huffed as Steve set her down.

Chrissy head whipped around to see Steve and Joan standing in the entrance way. “Oh, hi, Joanie, I didn’t see you standing there. You shouldn’t have wandered off without telling me.”

“I went looking for Daddy and found Steve,” she said pointing to Steve.

Chrissy looked up at Steve and then back at Joan. “Good job, Joanie.” She gently untangled herself from Janice’s iron tight grip and stood up. She straightened her clothes and glared at him.

“Why did you let me sleep so long?” she huffed, crossing her arms.

Steve pulled out his phone without a word and fiddled with a moment, before turning the screen around so she could see.

“Oh.”

There on the screen was a picture of her with the girls, all cuddled together in a pile on the floor.

“Um,” she said shyly, “if I gave you my number could you send that to me? I want it as the wallpaper on my phone.”

Steve nodded. She rattled off her phone number and he sent her the picture with a grin. Behind her Janice was waking up, groggy and disorientated.

“Daddy?” Janice asked sleepily. She looked around and saw only Steve, Chrissy, and Joan and immediately burst into tears.

Chrissy wrapped her arms around the little girl and held her tight. Joan waddled up to Chrissy and tugged her shirt sleeve. Chrissy brought her willingly into the hug. “It’s all right, pumpkins I think it’s past time for lunch. And I think everyone is feeling a little hangry at the moment.”

“I’ve got sandwiches in the fridge,” Steve offered jutting his thumb behind him.

Suddenly the girls pulled away from Chrissy and made a mad dash for the kitchen, Steve fast on their heels to make sure they didn’t try to get the plate out of the fridge themselves. Chrissy followed close behind, shaking her head fondly.

~

Lunch was a hit especially when the girls saw that their sandwiches were cut into little hearts.

“Did you throw away the scraps?” Chrissy asked as she munched happily on her non-hearted turkey sandwich.

Steve shook his head. “I cut the bread before adding anything to it, condiments, meat, cheese and then I use the bread scraps to make bread crumbs. Then I trim the cheese and have a little snacking cheese while I finish the other sandwiches.”

“Clever.”

Steve ducked his head and blushed. “Hey, girls what does your Daddy say about business at the lunch table?”

Joan and Janice shared a look and shrugged.

“Daddy usually doesn’t have lunch with us because he’s working,” Joan huffed. “Usually our nanny would fix us lunch.”

Steve looked over at Chrissy in surprise. “I was under the assumption that I was the emergency au pair, as in he didn’t have one before he left. Was that not the case?”

Chrissy shook her head. “I’m sure Eddie told you that they tend to chase off their nannies?”

“We do not!” Joan huffed crossing her arms in front of her chest and pouting.

“Yeah!” Janice said. “Miss Molly spent all the time on the phone with her boyfriend.”

“We were left unsup–unpup–unstupified!” Joan said, stammering around the big word.

“Unsupervised,” Chrissy said slowly then turned to Steve. “Molly was only the most recent run of bad nannies. One was spanking them for punishment, another was smoking weed in the house. And each time, the girls would misbehave so badly that the nannies would go running and blame the girls, only for the truth to come out.”

“Miss Emily liked to scare us,” Janice said with a whimper. “Jump out of closets and stuff. Said it would make us tougher.”

“Eddie found that one out because he came home early one day when a meeting with another producer fell through,” Chrissy said shaking her head. “She lasted two weeks.”

“Jimney Cricket,” Steve cursed. He turned to the girls. “I promise to not spank you or scare you or be on the phone with my boyfriend or girlfriend, mainly because I don’t have one.”

Joan cocked her head to the side. “You like both? Can you do that?”

“Yup!” Chrissy said brightly. “I’ve had a couple of boyfriends in the past. I just decided that girls were easier and more fun.”

Steve nearly snorted his water. He was so glad the girls were way too young to catch Chrissy’s meaning. Because, hooboy, their dad had only been away for a couple of hours and already Chrissy had gone feral.

“So you’ve had boyfriends and girlfriends?” Janice asked Steve, her head tilted the opposite direction of her sister so their heads were almost touching.

“I have!” he told her brightly. “Just not in a while. I’ve been taking care of sweethearts like you and have been too busy to date.”

Chrissy eyed him like he was a piece of meat she was thinking of serving up. Most likely to Eddie. His boss.

“But you aren’t a nanny, right?” Janice asked. “You’re an off pear? Is that rotted fruit?”

Chrissy and Steve shared a glance before they both burst out laughing.

“Au. Pair,” Steve said slowly. “Traditionally a young woman from a foreign country hired to cook, clean, and watch small children in exchange for housing and a small income. But I’m a little bit different.” He held up his finger and thumb really close together.

“Is because your a boy?” Joan asked at the same time Janice asked, “Is it because you aren’t foreign?”

Steve laughed again. “You’re both right. Though my mom is Italian, but I was born here in Indiana.”

“Just like us!” Joan said, throwing her arms in the air and almost knocking her plate and half of her sandwich off onto the floor.

“It’s all right, Joanie,” Steve soothed when she got really upset about almost knocking her plate on the floor. “You learned a valuable lesson in making sure your plate is pushed far enough on the table that it won’t get easily spilled.”

She sniffled but nodded.

They went back to eating and as Steve was cleaning up Chrissy asked him what he wanted to discuss at the table that got sidetracked by the girls.

“Just wondering when we should start looking for other help,” he said over his shoulder as he washed the dishes. “I don’t think we need to start right away for the cleaner and cook since there won’t be a lot of need for it, but a pool cleaner, ground maintenance, and gardener/ groundskeeper should be our top priorities.”

Chrissy stared at him for a moment. “Holy shit, you’re efficient. Yeah, we can start on all that shit tomorrow. I have the next couple of weeks off to help you settle the girls in. Eddie’s been gone for a weekend or two before and they’ve spent the night with me, so I’m always on call if you need anything.”

Steve smiled at her, wiping his wet hands on a rag he had draped over his shoulder while he washed.

“That’s great,” he said. “I won’t be able to keep calling on you because they’re going to need to get used it just being me.”

“Of course,” she replied. “Eddie really likes you and wants you to do well here so he’s authorized me to help you out anyway I can.”

“You don’t know what a relief it is to hear that,” Steve said, leaning against the counter. “Most parents either don’t care or are so afraid you’re trying to steal their children’s love that they undermine you at every turn.”

“Well you don’t have to worry about that with me or Eddie,” Chrissy said firmly. “Honestly it’s a relief. I’m not mom material. I never intended to be one. I like being Auntie Chris, but I’ve had to step up since Ethan walked out on them. It’s not fair to Eddie and it’s not fair to me either. So for both of us, having you come in and be that other parental figure in their lives is a huge fucking relief.”

Steve chuckled. “Duly noted.” He threw the balled up towel into a nearby basket. He liked having a place to put his used towels and wash cloths so he could remember to wash them as often as they needed to be.

“He shoots!” Chrissy cheered. “He scores!”

She waved her arms like she had pompoms in them and jumped in the air. Steve laughed.

“I may have played basketball in high school,” he said, a little sheepishly. Judging from the answers at the get to know everyone dinner, it seemed that the family didn’t do sports much and were very nerdy.

She leaned forward and put her hand to the side of her mouth and stage whispered, “And I might have been a cheerleader in high school and college.”

Steve’s interest was suddenly very piqued. “Really? That’s so cool!”

“Yup!” Chrissy said with a nod. “My mom wanted me to go pro, but I got a business degree for a reason and that was to manage the band. Eddie saved me from an emotionally abusive relationship when I went to him for weed and came out of the deal with a best friend.”

“Nice!” Steve said holding his hand out for a fist bump, which she gladly gave. “Me and my best friend met working at this hideously themed ice cream shop. We became friends when the owner tried to burn it down for the insurance but the idiot didn’t stop to think that we would still be cleaning up.”

Chrissy grimaced. But before she could respond her phone started ringing. “Oh shit, that’s Eddie!”

She went dashing out of the room, calling for the girls. Steve followed slower behind as he wasn’t really needed for the bit of that conversation.

As soon as he walked into the room and in view of the camera Eddie called out, “There he is! He survived day one!”

“Day isn’t over with yet,” Steve pointed out with a huff of laughter. “I’m dreading night time. It’s a bath night.”

Eddie and Chrissy both winced.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “I wasn’t thinking about that when we chose today to leave. Good luck and may Poseidon keep you safe from Scylla and Charybdis.”

“Daddy!” Joan and Janice huffed. “We’re not monsters!”

“I got that reference!” Steve said, snapping his fingers. “Do you girls like Percy Jackson?”

Chrissy burst out laughing. “That would be tamer, but no, this idiot has read them straight up Greek myths.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested from the phone. “I’ll have you know I carefully edited out the worst parts and was sure not to introduce to stories like Oedipus and Circe’s island, thank you very much.”

“I loved hearing about myths and legends when I was a kid,” Steve said with a shrug. “I’m sure the girls are no different.” He turned to Eddie, “if it’s okay with you, I’d like to start reading those books to them.”

Eddie shrugged on the video. “I guess, I mean if they could handle me reading myths to them, they could probably handle that. Just not at night. Night time is for learning. They have a lot of great Sandra Boynton books I would prefer you read to them instead.”

They started talking about other things and soon it was time for Eddie to go. He kissed the screen and said goodbye to the girls.

Steve got them all dressed for some outside play that Janice loved and Joan merely tolerated. As he watched them play in the massive yard, he figured that today could absolutely count as a good day.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

10- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers

[animeshotsh]

You what? | Viktor x Jayce x Kid!Reader | Arcane ¤

Summary: Viktor knows Jayce sometimes does things without thinking, but this? This goes beyond his own limits.

Warnings: Mentions of trauma - Kid!Reader - Viktor and Jayce are a couple - OFF CANON EVENTS - Human traffic - GN Reader - PLATONIC - grammar mistakes -

When Viktor enters on monday morning into the lab with his coffee in hand he expects nothing but silence, after all he is here before Jayce most mornings.

But he stops in his tracks when he hears Jayce's voice, maybe sounding less...well less like him. He sounds like he is talking to a small animal. It reminds him on how he uses to talk to Rio when he was a kid.

Pushing memories aside Viktor retakes his way and goes deeper into the lab, where their experiments are.

And oh, if his illness did not kill him as most doctors had said then this would do it.

Jayce, using one of his experiments showing it to a kid who seems to be as suprised as any kid would be and perphas gives the most honest reactions to his inventions.

But wait, go back.

Jayce and a kid.

His cane hits the floor in suprise and he ends being watched by two pairs of eyes.

Jayce looks like he was discovered breaking some important rule, to which Viktor is centrain that bringing a kid into the lab counts as but he wont say it. And another pair that looks at him with curiosity.

There is silence, no one really knows what to say or how to act. But Jayce ends reacting, leaving the experiment and going to help Viktor with his cane who is feeling a headache coming.

"Hey Vik! long time no see, how's your house?"

Honestly? Viktor wants nothing more than to go back in time and insist that he is fine and does not need rest. Maybe like that he would have stayed with Jayce and prevent...this.

But time travel is something that is still on the making, so back to the main point.

Viktor just gives out the most tired look, then turns to a near chair, sits and taking his coffee simple says "Explain"

Becuase if there is something he has come to learn while dating and loving Jayce is that nothing should suprise him (and yet Jayce still manages to do it) and also, is better to ask upfront than to wait for him to talk up. Viktor can still remember that one time he found a big (illegal no less) plant at his home and Jayce ignored it for two hours till he asked.

"Well you see, its really funny actually..."

"Jayce...."

"Alright..., so I took a walk around campus and saw some...suspicious individuals and well lets say I was not very discrete"

Viktor can just imagine the scene

"And they saw me and ran but I chased after them"

Stupid move Viktor thinks

"And then they trow me this kid at me, i mean what could I have done? So i took them home, gave them a warm meal and a bath" Jayce ends sounding a bit too proud of himself.

"Jayce you...you stole a kid?" Viktor asks because he is confused "And did not report the incident?"

"Uh well i was going too but then (Y/N) started to wonder around so i kind of forgot..."

"(Y/N?" Viktor asks and sees you peeking out from behind the big desk.

"Yes! Thats their name, im not sure about much more, only that they like chocolate and blue stuff"

Viktor ends in silence for various minutes. You must be an orphan he concludes, an orphan from the undercity, who had no other choice but to follow a gang in order to survive. He tries to calculate your age but its hard, you have been not eating well, thats clear, and he can already see some bruises from the misstreatment of the undercity.

Being raised by parents or family its a luxury after all.

"Jayce you cant just take a kid in" Viktor says and his heart almost breaks as he sees you run towards Jayce hugging his legs.

Noted, you may not talk but you understand, its clear you are more intelligent than what you leave to be at first.

Street smart maybe?

"But Viktor! I cant just leave them" Jayce responds picking you up. "If they return to the undercity i dont think they will make it"

Jayce sees how you push your head against his chest and smiles softly at you.

"And we cant leaven them at an orphan home! I have read of these places, they suck"

Viktor must agree, its not like he comes from one but knows well that lots of kids ends being sold off...

"Alright and whats your plan?" Viktor asks "Do you even know what it means to raise a kid, or how? What about me? Were you going to consulte me?"

He can see the pain in Jayce eyes at his last sentence. "Of course I was! I was just thinking of a...well a good moment"

"Because bringing them to the lab was the perfect idea"

"I could not leave them at home! I mean i tried but- they would not let go of my leg, i think they have some type of trauma..."

Viktor takes another deep breath, Jayce kidness and heart knows no limits.

"Besides you did say you wanted to help the peopel from the undercity"

"This is different, we are talking about raising! adopting a kid!"

"So you are considering?" Jayce asks in the most hopeful tone ever.

Viktor just lets out another breath.

"Well, its not like they can go back and yes, orphan homes sucks" Viktor responds. "But we need to do this right. And i mean legally"

Jayce nods and all of him lights up like he has discover a new thing. He goes to Viktor carefully managing (Y/N) by his hands and leans down to peak Viktor's lips.

"Yes!! Totally! I will talk to Mel about it, im sure she can move some contacts for this" Jayce says and Viktor can see his brain making more and more plans.

"They also need clothes, and we should think of getting them into school" Viktor adds standing up with his cane and going closer. He can see (Y/N) eyes and cant denied how it makes his heart melts.

"Dad?" Its what you say looking at Viktor, then you look at Jayce "Mom?"

Jayce smiles and nods while Viktor is left without words. "Yes! We are your mom and dad now" he says pointing at him then at Viktor.

"Family?"

Jayce nods again

"...Chocolate?" You asks once more

"Alright thats all, if they eat too much sugar this place will be a disaster, you do remember we have dangerous things in here, right?"

Jayce nods at Viktor then whispers to you "We will get chocolate once we end work"

Viktor snorts then moves to his desk to finally start working and also to let his mind register everything. He hears the doors closing imagining Jayce went with you to talk to Mel.

But no, he feels a pull at his trousers and looks down at you who looks up at him extending your arms

"Dad! Up!"

Viktor does as told pulling you on his lap and passing you some papper and a pen. Both fall in a comfortable silence.

And Viktor thinks, this is something he can totally get used to.

[jessjad]

Rightfully deceived

Chapter 4

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3506

Warnings: arranged marriage, abbondanment, jealousy, unpleasent surprises and a little breakdown.

A/N: Okay, so... how do we say? Before it gets better... it gets worse. Right? All mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Dean had been gone on a third business trip and this time he told Y/N that he would be gone for almost two weeks. Y/N had known that he was a busy man. After all, his reputation had preceded him. But somehow she had hoped for him to step back from it a little and spend the time with her. Turned out, she was wrong. It had really affected her, but she didn't want to show it to him.

So, she sad goodbye to him. Again. And it felt as if a piece of her heart had been broken off. A piece he did not see and that he just left lying on the ground for everyone else to walk over and step on it. She had expected resistance and irritation, but not such a cold shoulder. But Y/N just wanted to love him. Why did he not let her love him?

After Dean left Y/N started to to fully take over her position. Ellen had already included her in most things, letting Y/N decide how and what to do and everyone seemed to like the fresh air she brought with her.

She finally ordered that the men had to help carry the heavy objects. So not only did they have to carry the full pots out of the kitchen, but also the heavy tubs or washing vats for the laundry. And the men, surprisingly, didn't mind. On the contrary, they enjoyed the opportunity to flex their muscles. Sam had told her about it at some point. She tried not to change too much too quickly and received acceptance. From everyone except Cassie.

The young woman was still frosty towards her, but Y/N tried not to let it bother her to much. She would need to come around eventually. Or Dean would need to make an decision in the end. And none of them would want that. Hence Y/N always remained friendly and sometimes even tried to start a conversation with Cassie, but she always turned her down. However, she wouldn't let that deter her.

It's been almost two weeks again since Dean had left and Y/N missed him. But she started to feel more and more at home with each day. The castle was big, she had gotten lost a few times, but it exuded a cozy calm. The color of the carpets and curtains, the dark wood everywhere, it all reminded her of Dean somehow. The vast countryside, which seemed almost barren when the weather was good, also suited her husband. He also loved to ride horses and the landscape was perfect for that. It was as if his spirit was everywhere, influencing everything and giving life to everything around him. Even if he wasn't there. But maybe she was just lovesick by now.

"How are you holding up, pretty?"

Y/N snapped out of her thoughts a bit and looked over at Benny, who had just spoken to her. He took care of the horses. She stood at the horse pasture on the outside of the fence and watched Arrow and the other horses as they whiled away their time. She smiled at Benny. A friendship had developed between them.

"It get's better day by day and I actually start to love it here."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"But you obviously would like it more when Dean would be around, too." Benny grinned and Y/N's cheeks took on a deeper color.

"It was not fair to him, Benny. Not at all. And I understand that he's mad."

"But then why did he bring you here? If he would not at least like you, he could've just rejected you."

That was something she had told herself in the beginning too. Something she had hoped for herself. But with every passing day that hope faded.

"Maybe... he just felt pity for me."

"No, pretty. No." Benny came a little closer. "I don't believe that. That's not Dean. You see..."

Suddenly he stopped talking and his brows furrowed. She saw him look past her head and behind her and something in his eyes worried her. So Y/N turned around too, but she couldn't see anything unusual.

"What?" she turned her head back to Benny. "What did you see?"

It took a few seconds before Benny turned his attention back to Y/N.

"I... I don't know." He looked one last time at the spot he had in view, but there was nothing left to see. "But... it looked like someone was standing there... in the shadows."

An uneasy feeling spread through Y/N ​​because she knew that Benny wouldn't joke with statements like that. So she looked behind her again and hoped it was just a mistake.

But by the end of the third week that Dean had been gone, this feeling had become her constant companion. At first she thought it was just her imagination, but after she saw for herself that someone was watching her, she realized that someone was targeting her.

In the meantime she had also told Benny about it, who hardly wanted to leave her side after her confession. At some point this alarmed Sam, who wanted to know what was going on. Even though he spent a lot of time with Millie, he never lost track of what was happening here.

So, the two men started to team up after they agreed on keeping this just between them. The only other person they told was Millie. She was still Y/N's maid and she knew that she could trust her friend. And while they tried to discreetly figure out who might be behind it, Y/N already had a strong suspicion. There was actually only one person left. Cassie.

She was currently in the kitchen, one of the few places where she felt safe, making herself some tea. Lost in thought, she didn't hear Ellen come into the kitchen and place her basket full of vegetables on the table.

"So..." Ellen made herself known and crossed her arms over her chest. "...what's going on here?"

Y/N slowly turned around, trying to look as ignorant as possible. "I do not know what you mean."

"Oh come on." Ellen snorted. "Sam and Benny rarely leave your side anymore and you're constantly looking around like you're looking for something."

That surprised Y/N and you could see it on her face. Was she really acting so conspicuously? Ellen released her arms again and came over to Y/N.

"Don't worry. The others have no idea about it. But I've been in charge here for years and I practically had to help raise Dean and Sam. The two rascals were always up to something. That's why my eyes are just a little sharper than the eyes of others." she smiled a little. "And my mind too. But don't let the men hear that."

After a nervous laugh, Y/N took a deep breath and then told Ellen everything. She knew that she could be trusted too. Besides, she probably knew the place best. She knew all the clan members and everyone trusted her. It wasn't a bad idea to have her on the observer team.

Ellen's eyes widened somewhat in shock. She would never have thought that someone here would do something like that. Y/N was about to tell the older woman her suspicions about Cassie, but it didn't come to that. Jo came running into the kitchen, a small smile on her face.

"Dean is back!" she came around to Y/N and her mother. "He just went in with his stuff and was asking for you."

The blonde young woman looked at Y/N beaming with joy and squeezed her shoulders excitedly. Of course she also noticed that Dean was rather dismissive and distant. She was now all the more happy for her friend and hoped that it meant something positive. Y/N let this affect her and, with her heart pounding slightly, made her way to her husband.

Dean was happy to finally be home again. The business trip had been strenuous and the negotiations had been long. But true to his reputation, he persevered and ultimately succeeded again. Yet another liquor deal that included him as the sole supplier. That also meant that there were more jobs and people were always looking for jobs.

As his castle slowly came into view, he could finally breathe deeply again. As much as he enjoyed traveling, he still preferred wearing things at home. His deputy, Castiel, had everything under control in Edinburgh and he could rely on him implicitly. That was quite a relief and he was grateful for it.

The sun was warm on his back and he had a small smile on his face. But the closer he got to the castle, the more the smile disappeared. At first he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but then he realized what was bothering him. His men carried washing vats and buckets of water to fill them. Instead of training or doing the manual work, they did women's work. What was going on here?

After stopping his horse in front of the castle, he dismounted and marched towards the entrance. Benny came running, but couldn't reach him. He was already in the entrance hall when Jo ran towards him. He asked for Y/N and Jo told him she would get her. He went upstairs to remove his coat and bag before going back outside to talk to Benny.

"How is everybody doing?" Dean asked and led his horse into the stable where Alex took him to rub him down.

"Everything is fine. We were just waiting for you to come home."Benny answered as he walked next to Dean. "This was the last business trip for this year, right?"

"Yes, it was." Dean came to a halt and looked serious at Benny. "What is going on here?"

Benny looked at Dean questioningly, whereupon he gestured to two of his men who were still carrying buckets of water while three maids were doing laundry.

"Oh! Yeah... Y/N has changed some things."

"Why?"

"Because... it just made sense."

And then Benny told Dean about the lamb stew incident and how there were other situations like that. But since Y/N changed that, nothing like that had happened again and the men found it a good change to exercise their muscles. And to impress the women, of course.

That surprised Dean. Especially that these changes were so well received. And even though he might not want to admit it, he saw the logic behind it and it definitely made sense.

Maybe his original annoyance wasn't appropriate after all if everyone agreed with it. And again Y/N brought drastic changes into his life. Even though he tried to stay away from it as much as possible.

"You brought a really good wife home, brother." Benny said and padded Dean's shoulder before he left him with a smile.

But that statement didn't help Dean in the slightest. The only reason he took Y/N with him in the first place was because of the way her father treated her. Even though he was still upset about the betrayal, he could still understand why Y/N had taken Helena's place. There was just too much attached to it and he even admired her courage a little bit. Still, it hadn't given Y/N's father the right to treat her like that. That too had scratched at long-forgotten memories and so he simply couldn't leave her behind. He just couldn't do it.

"Dean!" he heared a familiar voice call after him and he rolled his eyes a little.

Cassie came running down to him again, but this time he was prepared and could stop her before she could hug him again.

"Finally you're back. Have you seen what have been going on here?"

When Y/N came out of the kitchen, she saw Dean disappearing out the front door. She didn't want to keep him waiting and was already running after him when Millie caught her just in time.

"Y/N. Y/N!" the woman was calling out and Y/N stopped in her tracks.

"Yeah? What happened?" now a little alarmed she waited for her friend to speak.

"Dean is back. He just arrived ten minutes ago."

Relief spread through her that what her friend had wanted to say to her wasn't anything worse.

"Oh, I know. Jo just told me that he's back. And he was looking for me." she couldn't suppress a grin.

"Really?" Millie started to grin too. "Maybe the long distance worked some magic."

"I don't know. But I don't want to let him wait to long. It's the first time that he has ever asked for me..." and she tried not to get her hopes to high up.

She was already on her way out again when Millie stopped her again.

"Wait!" she came close to her, so that she could whisper. "Would it not be best to tell Dean... about the situation?"

Y/N had already thought of that. "I don't know yet. Let me first see why he was looking for me and then I will decide."

Millie nodded her head in agreement and Y/N made her way back to Dean. It didn't take long until she saw him, only he wasn't alone. Cassie was standing next to him again. Shouldn’t Y/N be the first to greet him back?

She slowed her pace and tried not to attract attention. The two of them talked and stood so close to each other again that Y/N's heart sank a little. And what she then heard didn't make it any better.

"She changes everything here. She messes everything up." Cassie insisted and took a step closer to Dean. "Why are you letting this happen? I would never do that."

"Cassie..."

"You could've married me. I would never do this." Cassie said and placed her hand lightly on his chest.

Dean didn't say anything to that. He didn't even try to free himself from her grasp and that really hit Y/N.

"And if you remember, Dean... I said I would take over the responsebility from Ellen. Since I was the only woman fitting for it here. Why did you have to take that away from me? From us?"

That was enough for Y/N. She didn't need to hear anything more. With quick steps she made her way back into the castle and without stopping ran up to the bedroom. Once there, she leaned against the door, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had held herself together for so long that Cassie wouldn't let her lose her composure even now.

When she opened her eyes again, she noticed a small package on the bed. It was wrapped in dark green fabric and tied with a red bow. Had Dean brought her something from Edinburgh?

She walked towards the bed and carefully untied the bow. It was almost too pretty to unpack. She opened the fabric and lifted the lid of the box, curious to see what was hidden underneath. But as soon as she realized what it was, she wished she hadn't seen it.

On a bed of red, withered roses lay a severed head of a black cat. And it wasn't long before Y/N let out a bloodcurdling scream that could be heard throughout the castle.

When the scream itself reached Dean outside the castle, he suddenly broke away from Cassie and ran back inside. He already saw Millie in front of the stairs, who was just about to make her way up when she saw him.

"Y/N. That's Y/N!" was all she needed to say for Dean to sprint up the stairs.

"Stay here!" Dean ordered and Millie complyed.

He heard Y/N sobbing in the shared bedroom and was standing in the room just a few moments later. Y/N stood near the windows and was completely distraught. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she held a hand over her mouth to prevent any further loud noises. At first, Dean wasn't entirely sure what the problem was.

"What happened?" he asked in confusion.

With a shaking hand she pointed to the bed and then Dean also saw the small package. Weird. When he was upstairs to put his things down, it wasn't there yet. He took a few steps towards it, but immediately recognized what was inside. And if he was honest, he felt a little sick. But he still wondered what, or rather who, had put this there.

"That's... black magic." Y/N uttered in strangled words.

"What? No." Dean huffed. "That's not magic."

He didn't believe in magic and even though it was a really sick action that he wouldn't tolerate, Y/N had to calm down. He took the green cloth that lay next to the package and covered the inside.

"Then it's a threat. Which is addressed to me." Y/N said a little calmer, but still with emotion.

"Why would anyone threaten you?"

"Because you married me. That wasn't well received by everyone here."

Now Dean listened a little. "It sounds like you have some suspicions about who that might have been."

Y/N hesitated for a second. She actually didn't want to broach the subject like that, but they were now in a completely new situation. So she nodded.

"It was Cassie." she said in a firm voice.

"Oh, c'mon." Dean shook his head in disbelief. "Why would Cassie do something like that?"

"Because she wanted to marry you!" was he serious right now? "From the day you brought me here she avoided me. And she made it very clear to everyone else that she does not like me."

That made Dean a little amazed. "I know she's not necessarily easy, but she wouldn't be capable of something like that."

"You thought the same about Helena. And yet, here we are."

That left Dean a little speechless, but he didn't dwell on it.

"I don't know what's going on in your head, but it sure as hell wasn't Cassie." defended Dean the other woman again.

Dean didn't believe her. He simply sided with Cassie. That was enough. She couldn't take it anymore. For the last two months she had endured everything and never complained. His lack of interest in her and the fact that he constantly left her alone. She had endured it all, but now it was over.

"It was her! It could only have been her! I've been followed by someone lately and I..." but Dean did not really pay attention to her.

"But whoever it was, I won't tolerate that. Let's see what I can find out."

"You are not listening to me!" she almost screamed and now earned Dean's full attention.

"I try to talk to you, explain things to you and you don't listen to me! You just don't care! I tell you that it must have been Cassie because she's jealous of me and you don't believe me. Even though her behavior towards you should be proof enough."

"I do... listen..." Dean stumbled over his words, his mind trying to catch up.

And he did. He really listened to her, even if he didn't answer. At first, Dean had found it somewhat strange that Y/N had just started talking. But little by little he started to like it. Y/N talked a lot about herself. What she liked and what she didn't like. She also talked about her childhood and what memories she still carried with her. He had learned a lot about her and without meaning to, it had brought her closer to him.

"This situation isn't easy for me either. I'm giving my all here, trying to stay strong and not let myself get dragged down. I'm trying to find my way in a home that's completely unfamiliar to me, while my husband travels around the world and leaves me here alone." She let it all out.

"Hey, hey!" Dean interrupted. "I'm not just 'traveling around'. I'm making money. For all of us!"

Now Dean felt attacked. Of course it wasn't nice that he traveled so often, but it was necessary. This was how he made a living and, apart from that, he loved his work. So he wouldn't justify it.

"Do I look like I care about your money? No. I never have. But I did care about you! After the whole mess, I just wanted to make it up to you."

"But you can't! You're not Helena!" Dean replied angrily.

"I know that too! And yet you finally decided to take me with you." she fired back, causing Dean to fold his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, I should have thought about that for a minute."

But as soon as those words left his mouth, he regretted them. He didn't mean that. He saw Y/N's eyes fill with tears again and wanted to kick himself. Without another word, Y/N stormed past him to the door.

"Y/N..." he called after her, but it was useless.

The woman had already disappeared from the room without stopping or turning back.

A/N: Yeah, I'm... gonna leave it at that. See you next week! 🫣 Let me know what you think. Feedback is very much appreciated! 💜

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[holylulusworld]

Lumberjack Tales - The Hairy Bear (3)

Summary: He ruins what you had...

Pairing: Lumberjack!Ari Levinson x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, Ari being a douche for a moment, sad reader, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy scare, mentions of being unemployed, money problems (implied), remorse, we love Bear

This story is part of my Lumberjack Tales masterlist

Catch up here: Lumberjack Tales - The Hairy Bear (2)

A/N: I added the first details of the following request to this part.

Your days off flew by faster than you wanted. Ari and you spend every moment together, lots of cuddling and sex included.

Before you knew it, you called your boss to quit your job. Ari told you more than once that he wants you to stay – forever.

He seemed to be adamant about keeping you around. And you, well you, wouldn’t want to leave him, his cabin, and Bear for all the money in the world.

It was the first time in your life that you got the feeling you found your haven, a place where you belong, and are wanted.

“Ari,” you call for your lover and maybe future boyfriend. “Baby? Do you want to join me for a walk? We could take Bear too.”

Ari doesn’t answer. He came back from another grocery run half an hour ago. Ari didn’t say much. He simply carried all bags inside, and even ignored when Bear nuzzled his leg.

Assuming he had another encounter with the, in his words, annoying town folk, you snicker. Ari just hates having too many people around. You don’t know what happened, but he likes staying to himself – hence the cabin in the middle of nowhere.

A minute passes by, and another without a word from Ari. You sigh and decide to help him unpack the groceries. Winter is close, and Ari wants to restock his pantry.

“Ari?” You walk inside the kitchen, smirking as Ari is busy cleaning the counter. Last night you had sex on it, and you didn’t have the time to clean it yet. He huffs and snatches your panties from the ground to throw them into the trash can.

“Shit everywhere…” He mutters, still not looking at you. “Everywhere…”

“Can I help you?” You step closer to Ari, to hug him from behind and rest your head against his back. “We ruined it together. Let me lend you a hand.”

“Christ, can you leave me alone for five minutes?” He raises his voice, making you flinch. “It feels like you’re breathing down my neck all the time. Sometimes, a man needs time on his own. You’re suffocating me! Why are you so clingy all the time.”

You stiffen and immediately drop your arms. Stepping away from Ari, you feel like someone punched you in the guts. Not days ago, he told you again that he wanted you to stay forever, and now, Ari is telling you he hates having you around.

“Alright,” you try not to choke on the tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ll leave you to…cleaning.”

Ari huffs when you run out of the kitchen, and upstairs. He believes you’ll give him space and come back down later to join him for breakfast.

Bear whines as he looks at his owner. The Estrela Mountain Dog dips its head to watch its owner angrily scrub the kitchen counter. “Not now, Bear. I had a shitty day. My fucking ex-wife called, that blood-sucking bitch…”

“Shoes, pants, wallet,” you sniffle while throwing all of your belongings into your backpack. You wipe your eyes and choke out a sob. How could you believe Ari wants more from you than sex? Of course, he’s already bored and wants you gone. “That’s all.”

Ari left the house to go for a walk with Bear some time ago. This way, you don’t have to say goodbye. You’ll just sneak out and find your way back to civilization and loneliness.

Grabbing your backpack, you sigh. For a few weeks, you believed you found a home. Now you know better. No man can be trusted. Especially not the kind looking like he came right out of a wet dream.

You slowly walk out of the room, not looking back. If you turn around, you’ll break down and cry. That’s the last thing Ari wants, a whiny and desperate woman clinging to him. Maybe he even believes after you quit your job for him that you are after his money.

Shaking your head, you decide to not think of him any longer. It was great while it lasted. You had a great time and awesome sex. You’ll remember your time with Ari for what it was – a late summer fling.

“Y/N? Uh—I’m back. Listen,” Ari jogs upstairs to apologize for his earlier outburst. He was angry after hearing from his ex-wife after so long. The last thing he wanted was to yell at you. “Baby? I’m sorry for yelling. It’s just that…”

Ari stops in his tracks. He gasps when he finds the bedroom empty. “Y/N?” He rubs his scruffy chin. Something is wrong. All of your clothes are gone. Even the ones you carelessly dropped to the ground when you jumped at him to suck him off last night. “Baby?”

Bear trots inside the room. The huge dog whines loudly as you are nowhere to be found.

“Do you think she’s shopping?” Ari asks his dog. He furrows his brows as Bear lies down, and whines again. “Fuck…no…fuck!”

Sitting down on the bed, he buries his face in his hands. He screams your name, angrily stomping his feet. “I fucked up big time!”

Ari aimlessly drives around the area. He searches his property, every inch of it. In town, no one saw you, and you’re not answering your phone.

“Bear, I don’t even know where she’s living,” Ari hits the brakes hard when he sees someone walking along the road. He cranes his neck, only to see the cashier from the store in town wave at him. “Not her.”

He slams his hands on the steering wheel, cursing himself for ruining the best thing ever happening to him. “She’s gone, and it’s all my fucking fault.”

The first days back at your old place felt wrong—just wrong. You missed Ari's scent and his voice. You barely slept, not only because you felt like your heart got ripped out, but also because you found yourself in desperate need of a new job.

How foolish of you to quit your job for some guy you met not weeks ago.

“Fucking idiot,” you call yourself a needy and stupid bitch. “Only because his dick was good, you fucked up your career and will lose your apartment. Loser bitch. This is so typical of you.”

Four weeks have passed, and you feel numb. Not only did you not get your job back, but you’ve got another problem, and your time with Ari left more than a bad taste in your mouth.

Hot tears run down your cheeks, realizing you took too many risks by giving in to the charming and sexy man. Again, you tell yourself that you should’ve known better.

“Bear, come on,” Ari urges his dog. He finally found a trace of you. It took him almost six weeks to find out more about you, and your life. All he knew was your name. Nothing else was important while you were still around. Ari told himself, he could ask questions later and enjoy the blooming relationship you built. “We got to find her.”

Bear barks as Ari tugs at the dog leash. He sits down and whines loudly. “Stop making a fuss, you big beast. We have a job to do. Get up.”

The Estrela Mountain Dog remains where he’s seated. “What’s wrong with you?” Ari shakes his head. “We finally found her, and now you keep me from going to her?”

Ari huffs as his dog jumps up. Bear wags his tail and barks loudly. The dog suddenly starts running to chase after someone.

“Bear! Wait! Wait up!” Ari runs after his dog, dodging people here and there. “You stubborn beast. WAIT!”

Bear suddenly stops. Jumps at someone, making Ari yell his dog’s name louder.

“No! Stop attacking people. What are you doing?” His heart stops for a second watching Bear nuzzle your belly. The huge beast is whining for your attention as you carefully pat his head. “Bear, you beast found her!”

While you crouch down to wrap your arms around Bear, his owner steps closer. He watches you pat his dog while trying to find the words to apologize.

“There you are,” Ari huffs. “You must love watching me chase you.” He steps closer to grab Bear’s dog leash. “We will discuss your behavior on our way back.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You get back up to glare at Ari. “You wanted your freedom and silence back. I gave you what you wanted.”

You turn to leave, ignoring Bear whining louder. “I didn’t want you to leave. Y/N, I was having a bad day and yelled at you. I’m sorry.” Ari puts his hand on your shoulder, but you shake it off. “We could’ve talked things out, but you just ran. I needed weeks to find you. How could you just leave me?”

“How could you treat me like an intruder and a liability?” You snap at Ari. “All the time you told me to stay, and I believed you. I quit my job for you, only to get kicked out!”

“Y/N, I did not kick you out!” He growls. “You left! I came back and wanted to apologize, only to find you gone. I was scared to hell and back! Do you know how many nights I asked myself if you are still alive?”

You shrug. “You have a life to go back to, Ari. I suggest you enjoy your solitary, and I’ll take care of…” Biting your tongue, you look at the envelope in your hands. “Whatever.”

“Y/N,” he whispers your name when you are about to walk away. “Please. Let’s go somewhere else, and have a coffee. We can talk and fix this. It was all just a misunderstanding.”

Ari looks around the area, frowning as his eyes drift toward the building you left.

“There’s nothing to fix.” You want to walk away, but Bear blocks your path. “Bear, no!”

“A doctor?” Ari sucks in a breath. “Y/N. Baby, are you sick? Fuck.” Ari wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your neck. “How do you feel? What is wrong with you?”

You take a deep breath and say, “I’m pregnant…”

Tags in reblog.

[kaisaerinlover]

michael kaiser

married life

tw: toxic relationship, abusive

you and your (not so) beloved michael kaiser finally decided to tie the knot. well, he decided, and you obliged. because what else are you supposed to do? you wouldn’t ever betray him, everything he wants is what you want too. he has you so well trained, doesn’t he? you went along with it because of how docile you are, how you’re basically putty in his hands. but you also had your own selfish reasoning, but you aren’t ready to admit that to yourself yet. no, you hoped that if you became his wife, maybe, just maybe, the tenderness he sometimes showed would be more common, the nosebleeds he bestowed upon you with his cruel fists would subside, the gentle nature he has somewhere inside of him would come out more often.

unfortunately for you, that’s not how michael kaiser works. and i think you know that too, don’t you? so why do you keep up the hope? you’re a true masochist, and he’s a true sadist. a very dangerous pair. dangerous for you, the one who subjects yourself to kaiser’s brutality willingly (it seems that way these days).

don’t get him wrong, kaiser yearns for love, yearns to be loved, yearns for you to keep on loving him ‘till the very end. and he knows you will, because you don’t have any other choice. michael kaiser is truly a master of his craft, a skilled manipulator and a very intelligent man. and now that you’re his wife, things really became a whole lot easier for him. he knows he has it drilled into your pretty little head that the only thing good for you in this world is him. him, him, him, him, him. pleasing him. loving him. being with him. being so sweet to him after he’s so mean to you.

he loves you and you love him. so why does the love he feels for his cute wife manifest in the most atrocious of ways? you know, he’s always making dumb excuses for why he’s this way. he thought if he was loved he would stop, then he thought if he got a girlfriend he would stop, then he thought that if he married you he would be able to stop too. he’s ran out of excuses now. he’s fucked up, all that psychology he’s polished up on throughout his life, all those books on human traumas and emotions, they should have made him realise what he really needs is the drive to change and a therapist a million times better than the average one. but he’s a little ignorant too, in that sense. or he was, he realises it sometimes, but he ignores it.

and besides, he’s not exactly one to complain about the arrangement you guys have. especially after marriage. you became so much more perfect, he didn’t even know it was possible. you’re the perfect, doting little housewife. and you’re all for him too, so cute, so docile. you like it too, but kaiser made you. you’re a little too stupid, a little too trusting and a lot too in love with kaiser to realise it. if you were just a little bit more intelligent than the girl he first met, he’s sure you would have realised something was seriously up by now. but it’s fine, ‘cause wits were never your strong point, nope, your sweet obedient nature was. and kaiser likes that.

you’re a great housewife. and he’s a great husband, you think. you’re in the kitchen, cleaning up, wearing a sweet little outfit kaiser bought for you. he’s so generous, he doesn’t have to spend money on you, yet he does. isn’t he just the best? so expensive too, he spends his hard earned money on you? isn’t your husband seriously just the best? you’re dressed in a cute vintage style dress, hair tied up into a cute ribbon and a cute pair of slippers and socks to go with it. haha, you don’t even realise it, but you’re playing right into kaiser’s weird fantasy. he always had a thing for housewives, everything. so now he has you dressed as one cleaning the kitchen whilst he’s hard at work. maybe he’s so obsessed with this dynamic because he never had it himself, his mother packed up and left as soon as he was born, of course. and his dad was an abusive sack of shit. fucking bitches. pieces of shit. ah, he’s getting worked up. he shakes off that feeling.

today, he tried to release as much of that pent up rage into the match. and he won, as always. he’s the emperor of the world. he wanted to get out all of his anger, because what he wants more than anything today is to be a normal couple with you. but that’s not going to happen, it never does.

he walks in, “where is mein engel, hm?” he stands waiting at the door, waiting for you to come greet him like you always do. after getting married you established this new routine. and you do come, you come so quickly to him and stand on your tip toes to kiss his cheek oh so lightly. “micha, i missed you sooo much” you bat your eyelashes at him. he has you trained so well, it’s impressive. you’re like some cute puppy, you’re actually incredibly well trained. he thinks he should indulge in this idea some time, he just likes any scenario where you’re completely submitting to him. but he shakes that thought off, he won’t get distracted for too long.

he wraps his arm around your waist and walks you to the couch, where he sits down and you stand in front of him, between his legs, looking down at him so innocently. you’re confused, maybe you’re not as well trained as he thought, because you sure don’t know what he wants right now. maybe a glass of wine? you go over to the wine cabinet and pull out a glass and pour in some wine.

kaiser is waiting impatiently, he trained you properly, didn’t he? so why the fuck aren’t you going along with what he wants. god, it’s pissing him off. he sees you walk away, ah, maybe you’re finally going to cook dinner as he wants. he picks up the tv remote and turns it to the bltv channel, today will be perfect, he’s going to simply sit with you, watch some soccer and then eat some nice homemad-

and there you are, standing in front of him looking oh so innocent holding out a glass of wine to him. are you fucking serious? you’re kidding right? you’re definitely doing this on purpose, don’t look so innocent. you’re just trying to piss him off, aren’t you? you fucking bitch. “what is this?” he asks you. he’s angry, but he’s being eerily calm. “wine, i thought you wanted a glass?” are you being dumb on purpose? no, you definitely did this to anger him, didn’t you? ah, he’s so mad now. “and why would i want a glass of wine, after such a long day of playing. wouldn’t i want a meal, hm? dumb girl” he patronises you. and you feel so small. “

but you do something unprecedented, something you haven’t ever done before… you have a… reply? you actually talk back? “y-yeah but how can i know what you want-“ enough. he’s even angrier now. why the fuck are you talking back to him instead of bowing and doing what he told you to do. you retarded whore. what the fuck? all that calmness is gone, he’s gritting his teeth.

poor you, you thought you could reason with him before he got mad, he seemed so calm. stupid, naïve you. you thought he wasn’t mad and now you’ll pay the price.

he knocks the glass out of your hand, the glass shatters everywhere, cutting your hand slightly. the wine pours on you, staining you red. and if that wasn’t bad enough, his fist hits you square in the nose. the pain doesn’t even register until you feel the first drops of blood, and then see them on that cute dress kaiser bought for you just days before. he’s towering above you, staring you down. you messed up, didn’t you? “you don’t talk back to me. ever. i didn’t teach you that. next time, keep your pretty mouth shut. you fucking bitch. did you forget your manners? that’s not how a girl like you should be acting. should i just find a new girl, hm?” he’s holding your throat with his tattooed hand. find a new girl????? no, don’t do that micha!!!! don’t do that to you, you didn’t mean to. but now you’re even doubting that, you definitely meant to. you just didn’t realise it. or something like that… it’s your fault.

he slightly releases the hold on your neck to let you talk, you have a chance to make things up with your words. a very slim chance. because he probably won’t care about what you have to say, whether it’s an apology or not. but he’s letting you talk, so use the opportunity before you get a black eye next too. “i-i’m sorry. i’m really incompetent” you don’t even make any attempt to grab his hands off of your throat, or even wipe up the blood streaming down your pretty lips. “i’ll not mess up again micha, i promise.”

your blood is covering part of his tattoo now too, he notices it and withdraws his hand, and laps up the blood. he always had an affinity for your blood, you taste so sweet. he likes tasting the hurt he’s caused you. it’s fulfilling, this is how he likes living. he loves hurting you, he doesn’t like admitting it often though, ironic for a monster like him. for some reason, that anger subsides. he’s not as mad anymore. maybe he’s going to apologise to you? you’re actually kind of hopeful for that, the small, rational part of you that knows it wasn’t your fault. but that part perishes as quickly as it was lit up. he ruffles your hair with his other hand and wipes the rest of the blood his tongue couldn’t quite clear up onto your rosy cheek. “it’s fine, don’t mess up again, ‘kay? i was nice this time, wasn’t i? you’ve had worse from me before. don’t take my mercy for granted, prinzessin.”

you’re so lucky for getting that mercy, thanks kaiser, isn’t he just so nice? you don’t even know how he managed to forgive you for such a horrible mistake. you’re a shitty wife, thank god your husband is so nice. and, ah, that dress, the one kaiser generously bought for you, it’s all ruined. all stained in the wine and blood. you ruined the dress with your incompetence. you messed everything up, god, why did he even marry you? you’re so stupid, and good for nothing.

he can tell what you’re thinking, he feels a little bad, but he’d rather you beat yourself up over it than him. it’s easier that way anyway. he pats your head again. “poor little thing, all bloodied up because of her own stupidity.” he chastises, and you look down in shame. he’s right, you’re so stupid. “let’s go get you cleaned up, little häschen.” and he does, he leads you to the bathroom sink, sits you on the side, and cleans the blood from you. he almost flinches at the newformed bend in your nose, and the bruise which just seems to be getting darker and changing between shades of nasty blues and purples every second. yikes, he forgets how delicate you are compared to him sometimes.

all you can think about is how generous he is, he hasn’t even changed out of his jersey yet. that’s how nice he is. and he’s bandaging you up too, a cute bandage to hide that hideous bruise. he wants to hide your mistake for you? that’s even sweeter, he doesn’t want you to look in the mirror and feel bad for it, right? that’s what he’s doing right? your husband really is the best.

and that night, you make up for your mistake. you serve him his favourite bread crust rusk, and a nice glass of water. get him changed into his robe. tie up his hair. give him blue-red glasses so he doesn’t hurt his eyes. you pamper him, ‘cause that’s what he deserves. you pamper him whilst ignoring that banging headache from the brutal assault on your nose. and the bruise on your neck. and arms. and legs. all from past outbursts of his. you tend to him and treat him like a king even though you’re so injured, but you’re too brainwashed by your husband, too eager to be the perfect housewife so he doesn’t leave you, and you end up ignoring all of this.

kaiser knows what you’re thinking, predictable little thing. he thinks you’re real stupid. he’s the one that should be scared of you leaving, he couldn’t ever find anyone better than you, anyone more willing. you’re perfect. but he won’t tell you that. he won’t give you an ego. keep being scared of being left alone, so that every second you spend with him you’re even more grateful. he’s scared too, but he’s confident most of the time you’re going to stay. he feels a little guilty for everything right now, ah, it’s one of those times. the weight of his actions presses heavy on him, but instead of taking it out on you again, he just pulls you next to him, opens his robe and drapes one side over you, feeds you a spoonful of your home cooked rusk and pinches your cheek affectionately.

“good girl, schatzi. so good. i love you. du gehörst für immer mir.” he nibbles at your ear a little.

and you just sit and blush. “i-i love you t-too micha, ‘s much.”

you’re the luckiest wife in the world, thank gosh your husband is so willing to put up with your incompetence and stupidity. being a wife is so great. you lean your head against his shoulder, and whilst you’re being so tender with each other, you can forget about all your physical pains caused by him, and he can forget about all of the things weighing and stabbing at his mind at all times, caused by everyone. you’re truly his safe place. a real angel sent from heaven.

“engelchen.”

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Kinktober Day 30 - Hair Pulling

Pairing: BDE x reader

Word count: 1.3K

TWs: Reader calls Elvis daddy, praise kink, pussy inspection, oral (f receiving), possessive kink, face fucking, hair pulling, begging.

Kinktober masterlist

You’re curled up in Elvis’ lap as he reads from one of his spiritual books, his glasses perched on the end of his nose. You feel the vibrations of his low, rumbling voice as your head rests on his chest. The powdery smell of his cologne surrounding you, warmth radiating off his body. You’re so content right now. There’s nothing you love more than being in his arms listening to him talk. Whether he’s reading out loud, joining in with one of his favourite movies, or even just talking to the guys late at night. You don’t care what he’s saying, you just like the sound and the feeling. One of his big, strong hands rubs your back gently whilst the other one grips the book. He looks down at you occasionally to make sure you haven’t fallen asleep, but you’re always looking back with rapt attention. He moves on to the next page. 

“For I am your real teacher, the only real one you will ever know, and the only master,” he declares, maybe a little too melodramatically. 

You can’t help giggling at the word ‘master’. You’re not trying to be childish, after all you are almost thirty. It’s just you’ve been sitting in his lap for a while and as much as you like hearing his voice you do put on that fascinated facial expression sometimes. 

Elvis arches an eyebrow and looks at you over his glasses. “What’re you giggling at, little girl?” Pursing his lips a little. 

The serious delivery of the question sets you off laughing properly, and then you’re shaking with mirth. “M-m-m-master,” you finally manage, before replacing your head on his chest and laughing so much that tears come to your eyes. 

Elvis shakes his head like a long-suffering teacher and flips the book closed. He’s never sure how much you’re actually interested in the spiritual texts. You always look like you’re paying attention, but you avoid nearly every conversation he tries to have with you about them. He’s a little tired of reading tonight himself, though, and you look so pretty there in his arms, giggling away to yourself. He gets an idea. 

“I am your real teacher though,” he says, raising one eyebrow again. 

“Oh really?” You’re struggling to keep a straight face. 

“Mmmm. Yes. And this teacher needs to inspect you. Make sure you’re paying attention to everything I’ve been telling you.”

You feel your stomach turn and twist and that familiar tingling starts between your legs. 

“Yes…m-master…” you burst out laughing again. “I can’t call you that,” you tell him, holding on to one of his arms, when you finally manage to get your breath back. 

He picks you up easily, putting you down next to him on the bed. “Sir will do fine.” 

You’re laughing so much in response to that that you start kicking your feet. He lets out a low chuckle. “Okay, okay. Just call me Daddy. I know you like that.” 

You stop giggling when he says that and fixes you with the most sensual look you’ve seen in a long time. Letting your feet slide back down to where they belong, you look back at him. 

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.”

He slips your pyjama bottoms off and gently pushes your legs up and apart, so your feet are off the bed. 

“Time for your pussy inspection,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. 

He looks up at you through the reading glasses and you nearly cum there and then. 

Breathing hard, you watch as he looks between your legs with an almost forensic gaze. He’s staring so intently it’s making you blush. He very gently brushes a fingertip against you, noting that it comes back wet. 

“Very good,” he mutters.

You gulp. 

Running his finger around the edge of your pussy lips, he looks up at you again, licking his own lips deliberately. You let out an ill-disguised moan. He smirks. 

“Such a pretty pussy, baby.”

Watching your chest heave and listening to your unsteady breathing he smirks a little more, then gently blows on your clit, making you squeak. Then he drags his finger over it, feeling as it hardens. You wiggle, unable to stop yourself. He shakes his head. 

“Daddy’s not finished yet, baby. You need to stay nice and still for me. Then, if I think you’ve taken good enough care of my pussy, I might let you get what you want.”

You struggle not to groan when he calls it ‘my pussy’. You love it when he gets possessive. 

“Yes, Daddy.”

He smiles. “Alright. Let’s carry on, shall we?” 

You nod enthusiastically and he dips a finger into your pooling arousal again, swirling it around your clit until you cry out. Then he stops, abruptly. 

“That all seems to be in good working order.”

You’d laugh at how ridiculous he sounds if you weren’t so turned on. He leans in closer and uses his thumbs to press your lips apart, looking into your pretty little hole. The anticipation is killing you. His nose is so close to your clit it takes everything in you not to buck your hips at that exact moment. You let out a shaky breath as he pulls back. 

“Very good,” he mutters again. “One last thing.”

Without warning, he plunges one of his long, slender fingers right up inside you. 

“Oh, God.”

His mouth curls into a lazy smile. “Mmmm. Excellent. This tight little pussy’s made just for me, isn’t it baby?”

You nod eagerly and he pushes a second finger inside, curling them both so they hit that place inside you. You squeak again. 

He grins. “That was the last thing I needed to check, baby. You’ve been taking such good care of my pussy. You’re such a good girl.”

You moan softly, his fingers are still inside you and you desperately want them to move. 

“Ah, hold on.” He says, waving a finger from his other hand in the air. “One last thing.” His head ducks down and as he presses his tongue to your clit he says, “just need to check how you taste,” his words vibrating against you. 

The noise you let out is somewhere between a moan and a squeal as his mouth latches on to your clit and his fingers start to move inside you. Your back arches and you buck your hips into his face. He lets you roll your hips once or twice and then moves his head back quickly.

Crying out, you thrash your legs about desperately. 

“You taste real good, baby,” he declares, before diving back down into you again with renewed fervour. 

“Fuck!” 

You cry out, fingers knitting into his hair, holding his head where you want it as you start to grind against his face. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Pulling his hair now, as your orgasm builds inside you. You’re getting so close but you’re not quite there. It’s like he knows how to keep you right on the edge, you’re tottering but you don’t fall, the pleasure feeling like it’s filling your body, making you crazy. 

“Please… oh God.” 

You’re begging now, begging to cum, your fingers tugging on his hair desperately. He grins against you, his tongue working overtime as he finger-fucks you, wanting to give you what you want. Loving you losing yourself like this. Bucking and writhing, you look down for a moment and the sight of him, buried in your pussy, still wearing his reading glasses, completely overwhelms you. It’s that image that pushes you over into oblivion, moaning and calling out his name over and over like a prayer. 

You finally let go of his head and sprawl back on the bed, huffing and sighing as he delivers a few more kitten licks to your swollen clit and then slowly sits up. He waits until you properly come to, before looking down at you with that teacherish expression again. 

“Baby, I think you’ve ruined my glasses.”

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas

[pygmi-cygni]

thoughts on steven (maybe even roommate!steven) being a bit of a panty thief? my mind was wandering and i’ve been daydreaming about pervy steven… of all the three he seems he would win Most Likely To Be A (secret) Pervert™️

hm...I see the vision...😏

cw: smut, suggestive content, steven being a little freak <3

All of the boys have a strong sexual appetite. The only difference is, Steven is a little shy.

He knows what he wants (you) he just doesn't know how to ask for it

Besides, he feels all funky about it. He likes what you two have: tea in the morning, scrabble after dinner, maybe a bit of flirting, and then off to your (regrettably) separate rooms.

But ohhhhh how he just writhes in his bed. He can hear you on the other side of the wall. He knows. He can smell it too, when he does your joint laundry.

God it drives him crazy. He'll just kind of....wait for you to leave, maybe to go do the dishes, then he'll shove one in his pocket and hastily dump the rest in the washer.

After his little escapades, he'll spent ample alone time in his bedroom, only coming out to drink a glass of water, sheet imprints on his cheeks and eyes glassy.

You brush it off - maybe he's just getting some well-deserved sleep.

Um.....no.

He'll shove his face in between his pillows and jerk himself off as long as he can take it, the soft cotton panties wrapped tight around his achy length.

Sometimes he'll use them as a gag if he can't keep quiet.

Orgasm after orgasm until he's lost the ability to move, just laying on his soiled sheets and snuffling drowsily at the stolen pair, completely drunk in his love-nest.

He's not a complete arse, though, he always returns them washed.

Steven does notice a pattern.

You've got sexy pairs, regular pairs, sleeping pairs, and that-time-of-the-month pairs.

monthly pairs and sleeping ones are his favorites.

Not sure why, but the lace on your sexier ones gives him a rash and you notice the regular pairs' absence too often.

Nightime pairs smell the most like you. He doesn't like to soil those, just fondles them or presses them to his nose. Your lotion and the soft smell of your skin is soothing as he falls asleep. He'll tongue at the softer parts, imagining you laying there instead, your thighs instead of pillows cradling his face...

Monthly pairs, however.

Well.

You smell different when you're ovulating, obviously. Richer, headier. He'll get an immediate hard-on if he gets a whiff.

Steven keeps those for days, till he can barely stand it. they're usually the softest, too. He'll slick himself up and just go to town, thrusting and humping into the warm, wet, silky pocket of your panties.

It's dangerous cause he'll start moaning like a whore when he spills onto the mattress, bleating and whining until the aftershocks stop. He's gotta learn how to be quieter.

You caught him, once.

He'd fucked himself so hard he couldn't walk very well, acting a little clumsier when he came out from one of his 'naps'.

You were heading out the door and caught sight of his bedroom, slightly ajar.

A pair of light blue panties were twisted on his mattress in a mess of slick that was not yours.

Something sinister and wanting bloomed inside as you slunk out the door. Maybe a trip to the lingerie shop was in order.

tags!

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world @ael-xander

@to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m @lonelyisamyw-0love @purple-amaranthe

@unear7hly @chaithetics @buckyssugarchick