#can I make a post that is nothing but tags?

[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.

[vintagebuckybarnes]

In Vino Veritas

Pairing → Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Lab Assistant! Female! Reader

Total Wordcount → 3.5K

Summary → It all started when you and the Avengers enjoyed drinks during the afterparty back at the Avengers Tower. There, Tony revealed one of your deepest secrets, and even though you wish it had never come to light at first, you’re glad it did when the man you love stands on your doorstep, ready to start the rest of your life together.

Tags & Warnings → Semi-canon compliant, Avenger! Bucky Barnes, Female! Reader, Tony’s Lab Assistant! Reader, Bucky’s past as TWS is mentioned, emotional hurt/comfort, mutual pining, some cursing, and explicit sexual content.

Tags: Smut → Grinding, begging, some dirty talk, praise, teasing Bucky, protected sex, cowgirl position.

Story Rating → Explicit

Author’s Note → This story is beta'd by the wonderful @late-to-the-party-81, and I cannot thank you enough for that. I hope you'll all enjoy my story, which is filled with some angst, lots of fluff, and some smut to top it all off! 💜

Writing Prompts @fandom-free-bingo Bug Edition → “There is no us.” | Riding | In vino veritas | “Touch me.” @fandom-free-bingo Medical Edition → Crush at first sight @julybreakbingo Post-JBB → Being confronted about their feelings for another

Tags List → If you’d like to be tagged in my stories, you can add yourself to my tag list here.

The evening starts fine, good, even. But it all takes an unexpected turn when the man you work for - Tony Stark - reveals your secret. A secret that you’d only recently revealed to him.

Earlier that day, you’d spotted Bucky as he was working out and from that moment on your mind has been with him instead of your usual work and tasks.

“Hello, Y/N? Anyone home in there?” Tony asks as he lays a hand on your shoulder, making you jump. You look up at him with a worried look while he smiles back at you with a kind expression. A soft sigh escapes your lips as the thoughts in your head wander off again, specifically how his back looked underneath the tank top he wore in the gym while doing squats. Not only that, but you also can’t stop thinking about the way his ass looked in the sweatpants he wore. In a word, magnificent.

“Is everything okay with you? You’ve been a bit off your game today.” As Tony sits next to you, you put down the screwdriver you were holding - the one he asked you three times to pass to him - before turning to face him, your gaze focusing somewhere on the wall behind him. For a moment, there’s a silence between you as you gather the courage to tell him what’s been on your mind.

“Well, uhm- There’s something, or someone, that I can’t stop thinking about, and it’s taking over my mind every second of every day. It- It’s Bucky,” you say almost in a whisper. For a few seconds, Tony is completely silent as he lets the thought of you having a crush on one of his fellow Avengers sit in his mind. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he reaches out for your hand and takes it between his warm ones.

“You know that I’ll always support you in everything, right? I supported you when you expressed your desire to halt your life as an Avenger and retrain as my lab technician, and I supported you when you moved out of Avengers Tower to have your own home with more peace. This is not going to be any different. All I’m hoping for is that he will make you the happiest and best version of you, as you deserve nothing less.”

Tears brim at your waterline as Tony tells you this, and even though you deeply appreciate him, his words, and everything he has done for you, you can’t help but still feel a bit… odd about the fact you told him you’re having a crush on Bucky. That you have a crush on the man who was once the most feared assassin in the world under the hands of HYDRA.

“Now, can you hand me that screwdriver before your thoughts wander off to him again?” your boss asks in a teasing tone, making you smile as you grab it and hand it to him. Somehow, he always seems to know the right thing to say, and it's exactly why you enjoy spending time by his side while learning everything there is to know about his lab and what's going on in there.

Just as you’re about to get comfortable with another drink in your hand, you meet the gaze of the man you’re crushing on, and you feel heat coursing through your veins. The lines around his deep blue eyes intensify as he smiles at you, his attention making every last thought in your brain disappear. You’re so captivated by how Bucky looks at you that you miss your seat as you sit down. However, before you fall, you’re caught by a pair of solid arms that prevent you from hitting the floor.

“Careful there, Little One,” Thor says in his deep voice, his accent always making the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Even though you’d known Thor since you were young, you couldn’t help but get a little flustered by the nickname, and he smiled at you as you were finally sitting on the chair you intended to use.

“Thank you, Thor,” you whisper before sipping your cocktail. Around you, the conversations are starting to become a little blurry as you focus on Bucky and everything he has to say, his lips forming around the words effortlessly. When you suddenly feel a little shove against your arm, you yelp, making everyone go silent as they look at you.

“What did you do that for?!” you ask Thor in a low voice, but all he does is point to Tony, who obviously has something to say as he’s waving for everyone’s attention. There are moments when you enjoy the fact that alcohol can bring out people’s true feelings or thoughts, also known as in vino veritas, but not now. Oh no, now you wish you could disappear as you listen to the words coming out of Tony’s mouth.

“Guys, you really shouldn’t say this to Bucky or Y/N, but they’re having a massive crush on one another!” Tony says in a loud whispering tone, but what he fails to notice in his inebriated state is that you two are sitting right across from one another, enjoying the afterparty just like everyone else. Or at least, you were enjoying the afterparty until your secret got out.

The glass you were holding falls out of your hand before shattering into pieces on the floor, and your feet carry you as fast as they can away from the party and away from your worst nightmare come true. The music behind you fades away as you turn one corner after another, tears burning in your eyes as the event repeatedly replays in your mind. Your lungs start to burn as you keep running, the stinging feeling in your side increasing as you run out of the Avengers Tower into the night.

Meanwhile, Bucky’s world feels like it has taken a 180-degree turn. Mere minutes ago, he could only fantasize that you could have feelings for him, but now? A wave of disbelief washes over the super soldier, his expression showing pure surprise as he takes the moment in. For him, it was a crush at first sight from the momentyou walked into the training room on your first day. Over the years, his feelings have intensified, although he has only told Steve about his crush - or rather his now deep-rooted love - for you.

And yet, now that the pair of you have been confronted about your feelings for one another, he doesn’t know what to do. He has replayed the moment he’d confess his feelings to you more times than he can count in his mind, and in none of those versions, this is one of the scenarios that had appeared. It’s only when Steve grabs his arm and pulls him away that he seemingly comes back to reality again.

“Bucky, how does Tony know about your crush on Y/N? I mean, I’m, of course, fine with you sharing it, but-”

“I don’t know, Steve, I don’t know, and it kills me,” Bucky says as he runs his fingers through his cropped hair.“Fuck- I was planning on telling her this week but… but now it’s ruined, and I didn’t even get the chance to talk to her, and-” It’s all Bucky can say as he fights the urge to punch the wall with his metal fist, both hands clenched by his side as he tries to regulate his breathing. Without warning, Steve pulls him into a hug, and Bucky’s arms snake around his best friend's waist as his fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise,” Steve whispers, though he’s not entirely sure that’s true because he knows as well as anyone that things don’t always go back to how they were before. Still, Bucky decides to believe him as they stand there for a little while longer, and he soaks in every bit of comfort he can get for now. Lord knows he’s going to need it.

The past few days have been strange, to say the least. You haven’t been to the Avengers Tower since Tony revealed your now not-so-secret crush on the super soldier. You’re afraid of what will happen if you do. This also means you haven’t seen Bucky in a few days, and you miss him. You miss hearing his laugh, and you miss seeing how his mouth turns slightly upward as you hand him one of your baked goods, but most of all, you miss how his arms feel when he pulls you in for a hug.

Just as you’re about to make yourself a cup of tea, you get pulled from your thoughts by a soft but familiar knock on the door; only one thing can make that sound: Bucky’s metal hand knocking against the wood. For a moment, you contemplate your actions, but decide to give him at least a chance to talk, especially as it wasn’t him who laid out your feelings in front of everyone.

“Bucky, hi,” you say softly as you take in his appearance, your heart sinking as you do. It’s evident he hasn’t slept at all the past few days. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he doesn’t look as healthy as usual—more disheveled. The struggles he’s facing are apparent in his entire demeanor, and all you want to do is wrap him up in a warm blanket and cuddle him until the end of time.

“Hi,” he says hoarsely, and you step aside, allowing him to enter your apartment. He’s been here a few times already, and usually there’s a warmth radiating from you and every inch of the little place you call home, but ever since the party, it hasn’t been the same. It isn’t just the apartment, either. You feel different.

“Would you like some tea before we talk?” you ask to break the tension. “I was about to make some.”

He nods at you before wandering further into your apartment, and you head to the kitchen, picking out another mug for Bucky to use. Once he’s caught sight of your couch, he immediately takes a seat, a soft groan audible as he does. There aren’t many places more comfortable than the large couch that’s standing right here in your living room.

When you emerge a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of tea and a plate filled with chocolate chip cookies you baked fresh this morning, Bucky can’t help but smile at you. He gladly takes the tea with one of the cookies, as they’re his favorite, and when you sit down next to him, it feels just like it always has, as if nothing has changed. But you both know it has, and that’s why the super soldier’s now in your living room.

“So…” you start, unsure what to say now that he’s sitting on your couch. Bucky’s eyes are trained on the steaming tea in his hands, his thoughts going a mile a minute as he’s thinking about what he wants to say - other than confessing his love for you.

“So… uhm, we missed seeing you around the Tower,” Bucky starts, though you both know it’s mostly him who has missed seeing you there. You have always been a staple there during his mornings as you make him a cup of coffee, and during movie nights, you were always the one he could sit next to and enjoy the movie, but now that you’re not there, it’s like a piece of soul has left the Tower with you.

“I mean, yeah. It’s been a bit awkward for me to go back after what happened a few days ago,” you tell him, and a shudder of horror runs down your spine at the thought of having to face Tony again. A smile tugs at the corners of Bucky’s lips as he thinks back to what happened that night, a happy memory of your first meeting resurfacing in the back of his mind as he does.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes. I’ve made some chocolate chip cookies, if you want some. However, I should warn you, Tony’s been on the prowl since I took them out of the oven, so I’ll advise you to be quick,” you say with a glare towards Tony, who has been eyeing them up since he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. For the first time in a long time, Bucky showed something akin to a smile, and everyone looked at each other to ensure they saw it, too.

“Thank you,” he says lowly, grabbing one of the smaller ones on the plate, followed by a cup of coffee, before swiftly leaving the kitchen to spend more time in his room. Before Bucky even left the kitchen, Tony was on the cookies as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks, and this time you let him.

“Can I- Is it okay if I tell you something? Because if I don’t say it now, I don’t know if I ever will,” Bucky says softly, and you nod before repositioning yourself so that you’re facing him. His gaze is still trained on his mug as he thinks carefully about his next words, afraid he might accidentally say the wrong thing.

“Tony was right. He is right, actually. When he said, we’re crushing on each other. I’ve been crushing on you since you offered me those chocolate chip cookies when Tony threatened to eat them all before anyone else had a chance to get them. It was like a switch flipped inside me back then, and I haven’t been the same since,” Bucky says, his mouth now in a line as he tells you about his feelings.

“Each time I look at you, it’s like I’m seeing an angel, and every time I hear your voice, it’s like a little piece of my soul is healing, too. I find myself drawn to you in every room and wonder what life has in store for us. But deep down inside, I know there is no ‘us’ yet. But I want there to be us. I want you, Y/N. I want you to be mine, in whatever capacity you’ll have me. If you want to stay friends, that’s okay with me, but if you want more, I’ll happily accept every bit of love you’re willing to offer me.”

Once Bucky’s done, you’re unsure what to say. What to think. What to do. You want to say that the feelings between you are mutual, that you’re in love with him and that you want nothing more than to be his, but something inside you is stopping you. So, instead of saying anything, you place your hand over his flesh limb, and his eyes slip shut at the feeling of your soft fingers against his rough hand.

“Bucky.” His name is a whisper on your lips, but it’s enough to make him look at you, to meet your gaze.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, Bucky carefully put his tea on the coffee table before hauling you onto his lap, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your waist as your lips interlock in a passionate dance. He can’t get enough of your soft mouth slotting together with his and the way his tongue fights for dominance with yours as your fingers dig into his neck. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt a strong connection with someone, and you’re happy to explore it with Bucky.

Your hips grind over his growing length of their own volition,your body looking for any bit of friction it can get. Without warning, one of Bucky’s hands slides lower until he’s cupping your ass, making you gasp into his mouth as a result. Bucky can’t help but smile into the kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer, your legs spreading just a bit further as you sink against his muscular body.

“Hmm, I’ve been wanting this - you - for so long,” he says between the kisses trailing your jaw towards your ear, his teeth nipping on your earlobe as your head lolls to the side. With every passing second, your thoughts are melting away more and more, and all that’s left inside your mind is Bucky. Soon, his other hand joins the first as he helps you grind onto him, a groan falling from his lips as he sets a perfect pace for you both.

“B-Bucky—" his name sounds more like a whine than anything else. “I—I want you.”

“But you already have me, pretty girl, ‘m right here,” he says with a teasing lilt to his voice, his hands continuing to help you grind until you’re a complete mess for him. Your shorts are ruined, your arousal soaking through them and onto the bulge in his black jeans, much to Bucky’s joy. He was wondering what it would take to get you to this point, and it turns out it won’t take much.

He smiles against the skin of your neck, where he’s taking his time to mark you with hickeys and small bitemarks, all of which leave you a bit more of a moaning, begging mess on his lap, much to his pride. When one of your hands moves away from his neck and down his torso, he quickly catches on to what you’re doing. “Someone’s a little impatient today, huh?”

“Yes, oh god, yes! I need you to touch me, Bucky. I want to feel you inside me as you make me fall apart on your cock, and I need you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow!” Your voice sounds more breathy than usual, but every care you thought you had has gone out the window. All you want is Bucky and his cock to ride, until you’re orgasming so hard and long you can’t remember your name.

“Okay, I will. Don’t you worry about anything, okay? Let me take care of you, and I’ll give you everything you need and more,” he reassures you in a shushing voice. You nod before kissing him again, which immediately deepens before he gently helps you get up, allowing you to take off your panties and shorts, and he can take off his pants and boxershorts, too. As soon as you’re both freed from your last pieces of clothing, you hand him a condom you retrieved from the side table drawer while he took the time to undress himself.

“Hmmm, looks so thick,” you tell him as you look at it with wide eyes, wondering how he’s going to fit inside you as you’re positioning yourself on his lap once more, your legs bracketing his thicks thighs as you get comfortable.

“I know, but I’m gonna go slow. Wouldn’t want to hurt you and your perfect, sweet little pussy.” He smiles as he holds his cock in place, your pliant body sinking onto him slowly as your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself. Your hiss of pleasure is audible and your face contorts at the slight sting of him stretching you, but just like he promised, Bucky is taking it slow to ensure you’ll both have the most amazing first time.

As soon as you’re fully seated on his lap, your body goes limp against him, your face tucked in the crook of his neck as you adjust to his girth, and Bucky places soft kisses on your head while praising you through it all. “You’re doing so well for me, baby. Such a good girl for me, letting me take the lead and giving you exactly what you need.”

A small smile appears on your face as you look up at him with big, doe-like eyes, and he can’t help but smile back as the back of his fingers gently caress your cheek. He may have thought you were beautiful before, but nothing compares to this moment. 

“I love you, Y/N, and I promise to take care of you with every fiber of my being,” he whispers, his lips sealing his promise against your cheek. Your eyes fall shut at his words, and his hand moves down your side until it’s on your hip again, ready for you to let him know when you’re good to go. Your bodies work in complete sync with one another with every rise and fall of your chest, and his hands guide you beautifully as you slowly sink and rise on his length.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, and it doesn’t take long for both of you to find your highs for the first time, and they’re serving as a promise of everything else that’s still to come in this lifetime. A few days ago, you and Bucky didn’t even know you felt the same about one another, but now you’re sharing the start of the rest of your lives, and it’s all thanks to Tony. Because without him, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the man of your dreams how much you love him.

Masterlist → Bucky Barnes

GIF: Source → All the other graphics you see are made by @vintagebuckybarnes

[gourmetpunk]

Actually I changed my mind: in my first reblog of this, I had a little note in the tags stating that I guess I could at least get behind it as a political critique of punk, but now I'm going to go ahead and call that part of the post asinine as well.

Look, I get it: I also hate when people make the kind of dumb "punk is anything you want it to be" claims detailed in the last paragraph of the above rant, and I also cringe when people try and paint over the subcultures neo-Nazi flirtations. But what exactly are you trying to accomplish by attempting to divorce punk as a subculture from its politics, or political movements that have been inspired by it?

As I mentioned in the tags of my first reblog, there is almost certainly a leftward trend among those who could be considered cultural figureheads of punk, like Ian MacKaye, Henry Rollins, Patti Smith, David Byrne, etc. (with the requisite number of right-wing cranks you see pretty much anywhere like Johnny Rotten, Johnny Ramone and Morrissey). And that's not nothing - even if some of those figureheads have also said or done dumb things that don't align with my own leftism or most other people's here, they've inspired a lot of others to adopt the better parts of their ideals!

So what's loathsomespider's criticism here? That punk leftists failed to actually topple capitalism like they threatened to and instead became a part of the system, therefore the whole subculture is null and void and should only ever be analyzed as a fashion statement? Like it or not, subcultures exist in dialogue with politics, and while I am also skeptical that a single subculture is ever going to change the face of politics, many people find it encouraging to have a subculture they can bond over that they also share vague political ideals with. It has been said time and time again (and quite accurately, I'd add) that capitalism is able to incorporate any critique coming from outside itself into a marketable and non-threatening version of that critique within capitalism. So what makes punk such a special case here? Why stop there? Why not say all subcultural resistance is futile and ultimately apolitical if it takes place under capitalism? I just don't follow what of substance this post is supposed to be saying at all.

the "dumbledore's army" to "punk is anti-establishment" pipeline

[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.

[dreamertf]

Follow the Instructions

/hello! Hope you enjoy this one, im gonna start tagging ai as #ai tf so if you dont want to see any ai images in your tfs you can block that tag. Ill also be putting a disclaimer at the top of each post that has ai.

/contains ai images & video

/includes; muscle growth, suggestion tf, straight to gay tf

"Yeah, Im feeling fine!"

Jason was tired of how weak and scrawny his best friend Max stayed throughout their time in high school and now, college. So he had given Max a new black market roid that promised to "make him a bro." He crushed up a few of the pills without looking at the instructions and baked it into a cookie he gave Max.

Jason wasn't so bad himself, 6'4" and muscular, with a charming face. Little did he know that his height that he had since he was a sophmore in highschool would be changing.

Jason stared at Max as his skin started to ripple and shift.

"Are you sure?"

"Never better, bro."

Max ripped his shirt off as his muscles swelled. A deep canyon of rippling abs leading up to two giant slabs of muscle. He flexed and stretched as his biceps filled out.

"Sorry, im feeling a little hot." Max said non chalantly. His muscles continued to grow as he flexed them.

"Oh my god it worked"

"What worked?"

"Oh nothing, dont worry about it."

"Ok brah"

Their surrounds changed from school as it turned into a living room, a living room Jason had been in so many times before, Max's living room. All of a sudden, Jason felt a pull towards Max. He couldn't stop looking at him, like literally. He traced Max's outline as each muscle became more prominent. He stared at the giant as he grew taller and taller, but something wasn't right. It was like everything around Jason was getting taller too.

Unfortunately, Jason hadn't looked into how the roid actually worked. On the back of the small blue box, it read ;

Are you tired of being weak and nerdy? We got you covered. We believe the human mind is a powerful tool, and our Bro Pill helps you to use it to your full potential! Not only does it shift your mindset to be more focused on sports and the bros, but it also changes various other aspects of your life in order to fit your new you! We recommend taking one pill weekly until desired affects.

WARNING: taking more than one pill a week may intensify the effect you have on other people

Jason panicked as he felt himself losing muscle and height. His features softened as he turned from a rugged man into a young 20 something twink. It looks like the god of Jason's creation has type cast him as his twinky boyfriend. Making Max a jock apparently didn't override his sexuality.

"What are you doing to me?"

His voice was still deep, too deep for someone like him.

"Make that voice a little higher, and can you please quit being so worried brah? Be like me, stop thinkin as much little guy huhuhu."

A wave of relief came over Jason as he collapsed onto the couch. His body continued to shrink as he lost his height, becoming about 5'6" compared to Max's new 6'8". His musculature toned down more, not as defined anymore.

"Whatever you say babe" Jason giggled, his voice much higher and more flamboyant.

"Thats my pretty boy." Conversely, Max's voice became much deeper and demanding. Jason felt himself starting to get hornier.

"I'm so happy i couldfind you. Your ass was like made for my dick huhuhu" Max said as he spread his legs wide as his pouch grew bigger. He had one more explosive growth as his shoulder broadened and his pecs filled out more. Jason shifted in his seat as his ass grew more plump and muscular.

"What do you mean?" Jason feigned innocence, turning the ditziness all the way up.

"Come here and I'll show you, slut."

[supreme-leader-stoat]

Alright someone told me to make it it's own post instead of hiding the story in the tags, so:

When I do mental math, I actually do visualize the numbers floating in the air like how tv serial sfx artists seem to think super-intelligence works. It's just a thing my brain does. I'm not literally hallucinating them, but I have a clear sense of which number is which and their size and position in relation to each other, I 'break' or 'split' large numbers apart into smaller ones, and I can 'smush' them together into larger numbers when adding sums. I just assumed that was how numbers worked until I was in high school and my dad asked me why my eyes always flick around looking at nothing when I'm thinking about math.

All that is to ask,

[court-jobi]

Aquarium Date

Pairing: Hawks x reader (gn!reader)

Words: 3.1k

Rating: G~

Warnings: fluff hours, y'all. Mentions of PTSD but nothing deep, dark, mysterious. Just taking care of my sweet, sweet flyboy

Summary:

You've been introducing little spots around the city to Keigo, slowly reintroducing him to the public per his increasing interest. As much as he prided himself on coming up with the best date ideas, you flip the script and come up with a surprise for him today: high time the prince of the skies gets to experience an aquarium for the first time~

A/N: Here's the long-awaited poll result!! it's been a minute, but I've been polishing up some drafts and finally have a breather to begin posting them! (Also started seeing someone which oddly enough cuts into my writing time, oops) But thank you all so much for reading; I've loved reading all the comments and tags!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Quilted mornings greet Keigo's weekends now. Every Saturday, he sleeps to his heart's content- or at least until he rolls over with an indulgent stretch to find you already sitting up, nursing some coffee.

This morning, you return your mug back to the side table the moment you catch that telltale creak of his voice trying to wake itself up. It’s a careful move not to spill, but you're also bubbling in anticipation of what's coming next:

Without fail, Keigo will crack open his eyes, fuss against the light, moan how you've moved too far away, and *army-crawls* on his tummy until he can drape an arm across you again. To watch his shoulders work as he moves is still a handsome sight… even without his wings.

As he tries to sneak in a bit more shuteye, you stroke Keigo lightly, wherever you can reach. It's mostly his hair that calls out for your hand’s touch, though as you lay some light scritches down between his shoulder blades, Keigo rustles more. When you stop, he jolts his shoulder up in a nudge.

'More, please.'

"Good morning, GoldenEye~" you greet him.

Laying a groggy kiss to nowhere in particular (just an absent press of the lips on your midsection where he could reach), Keigo trills lazily but with a smile on his face. A wakeful state rests behind still-closed eyes; he talks before willing them open,

"Gmornin', bay’bird.."

Kei's morning voice should come with a warning– if you had no bills to pay or the human need to eat and drink, you'd never leave this bed with him in it like this.

He wrenches a little pout, a scrunch of his shut eyelids, "nnngh.. -wha’ times’it?"

To answer Keigo's drowsy twists and turns under the covers, you pull up the confirmation email on your phone with bidden excitement,

"Right about time for you to start getting yourself ready, babe," you greet softly, "we've got somewhere to be today."

An accented eye finally chances a peek up at you, "-where?"

"It's a surprise~ I'm taking you out. Up for a little adventure?"

"Adventure, huh?" Keigo cracks a smile with teasing interest, groaning into your side as he stretches yet again, "MMMMFH-hhhh.. now what's my baby got in mind f’me, huh?"

You've been introducing little spots around the city to him, slowly reintroducing him to the public per his increasing interest. You were nervous at first, but by Keigo's healthier mental balance between work and play now, you follow his lead and try to make outings fun for him.

Online, you'd come across a locals-only ticketing deal that was too good to pass up and thought to treat him to an excursion he'd likely never gotten to do in grade school... Since when would assassin training allow for field trips like most nine-year-olds get to go on?

Without giving anything away, you merely gave Keigo a small kiss on his forehead and left him confused while you urged him to get up once again. A frisky swat on his butt atop mountains of covers got him into action soon enough, chasing after you with roguish excitement.

“Guess it’s a bit late to ask if I should have changed into a wetsuit?”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be in the enclosures without permission, Kei. Hero or not!~”

“Cmon, you can’t swim with them?”

“Some folks do, but they get paid to do that! The rest of us get to watch how it’s done.”

“Sheesh, where’s the fun in that?” 

Giggling at his ridiculous notion, you find your darling’s interest in the building's flashy backlit signage  holds more depth, like he’s reading every word for the first time.

"Y'know, I always passed this place," Keigo emerges from the car, with a set gaze at the fish captured mid-breach, "but never went inside. Couldn't risk the wings getting too wet while on the job, y'know?"

"Thought as much," you rejoin him, pocketing your keys into your coat and all but biting your lip in excitement. "Wanna see?"

"Lead the way, pretty thing~"

So the two of you entered Kyushu's newly renovated aquarium center. It's renown as one of the loveliest in the world with a seven story high observation deck, prized for its integral underground facilities with access directly to the waterways through man-made tunnels and bayfront access. Quirk specialists who bear similar biology to nature's most wonderous aquatic life find their ‘home away from home’ here at the conjoining lab complex, and aid in conservation efforts alongside the scientists.

But out of all the inner workings listed on plaques and donor standees lining the walls of the lobby, Keigo fixates on one feature above all others the minute he steps in the door-

"They have PENGUINS?!"

You mute your giggles, cringing at his unintended echo through the ceramic walls and floors.

Merely nodding, your hush guides him to not make such an outburst again, taking ahold of his bicep and threading your arm through to keep him close.

"Surprise!" You whisper adoringly.

You feel the equivalent of a parent’s pride on Christmas morning, watching Keigo take in a sight like this as if he weren't twenty-plus years older than you were when you first came to visit one.

Unafraid and completely enraptured by the dark halls and den of water ahead, Keigo is stepping out strong with your hand in his, forgetting altogether that this is a paid attraction and he can't just spurt ahead of his own two feet.

A hard habit to break, going too fast for his own good… but your linking of fingers in his softens the sting of having to wait to show your tickets first.

Inside changes Keigo's demeanor entirely. From giddy interest comes a deep, profound quiet he was still very much capable of. You took the lead, enlightening him to all sorts of creatures which -you'd come to learn today-  he'd never seen before:

Shrimp were little marvels Keigo had only ever seen sauced up and on a skewer, so to watch them mosey about in their natural state brought a funny tweak of regret to his lips. Jellyfish were the 'roadkill of the beach’, to him. Never before had he seen how big they could get or how beautifully they migrated out in the open ocean. Fish with spikes, eels that glow, creatures with tails longer than their entire bodies, whipping around their cratered homes all set under interchanging lights… it all rendered Keigo nearly speechless.

So speechless, he didn't pay a single mind to a few nearby kids who were whispering to their moms if the man over by your side ‘is who they think it is’... 

You'd catch their eyes, mocking a little hush of the lips and sending a wink to their guardians- an unspoken word between you promised to let everyone just explore at their own peace and pace. 

These are the beautiful times you are gifted to spend together; now more than ever. While you wish under every star in the sky that Keigo Takami’s newfound free time was not at the expense of his hero work, you are grateful for the perks his rehabilitation period offers you now. In this time of healing, your relationship has flourished; not unlike the sea life around you.

Much like the aquatic life you walk by from enclosure to enclosure, the far-off vision of these sights in the wild remind you that so many beautiful things can exist under the surface of turbulent waves. From the skies, ‘Hawks’ in his larger-than-life glory became drawn to you just over a year ago: rooted to the ground as you were. Now grounded himself, It’s here that -once again- you amaze him with a new perspective, this time sharing marvels with him that exist far under both your feet, under the sea. By his awestruck reactions, you’re proud that you can enlighten him to something he’s never experienced. So many times, you’re so sure that he’s seen it all… but you still manage to surprise him. 

As he rightfully deserves. You’d give Keigo the world if you could.

Though for now, his complete joy seems to stem from checking out the baby penguins, half covered in the fuzz of their infant downy feathers. For a split second, your chest pangs when he makes an offhand comment about how they’re just like him, flightless. But Kei settles any subtle concern you hold, because his laughter is far to giddy for you to worry that he’s self conscious. 

Had you not known what horrors and traumas he’s gone through with his quirk, you’d think this is the funniest sight to see a grown man revert to child-like excitement. But now, it means so much more to see him so happy and carefree.

It’s not that you’re desensitized to such creatures, mind you! While you’d been taking candid photos of Keigo for your own private collection, a couple birds suddenly squawked an internal debate, demanding the attention of you both. It’s clear a race had been cast, because the penguins then slid right onto their bellies to a quick, friendly speedrun to the bottom of the slicked, icy slide into the water. When one emerged from the pool ‘laughing’, Keigo wheezed and started a cheeky round of applause for all bystanders to join in on.

Birds of a feather, you assume, and they love a good race– whether in the air or not, I guess!

"Can we-- maybe go back again?” Keigo paused before you could veer off to one of the last passageways before the end of the museum, “Wanted to see something again ‘fore we get to far ahead."

So you backtrack through the exhibits, and return to ‘The Great Room’.

At his lead, you're back at the tank the resident whale shark calls home, but you're caught off guard by where he chooses to settle– watching Keigo walk right up by the glass- not quite a foot away. In the middle of the feature wall, sitting down criss-crossed, the man you’ve loved in and out of the spotlight makes himself the whale shark's newest neighbor, smack dab on the floor.

Five-year-old Keigo has arrived, and your heart could break at the sight.

Looking over his shoulder for you, he's got a boyish look on his face that's a little hard to read. By his posture, he's relaxed as ever, but a hidden story sits behind his eyes like a mist. His scar pales into the rest of his cheek under all these watery refractions of light, to the point where you forget for a moment it's there.

At his pat on the ground, you mirror his seating arrangement and join him. No one else is in the room at this moment, but even if it were jam packed with chiding eyes around you both, you'd never refuse him.

Keigo looks back up through the glass when you curl up next to him- staring off everywhere and nowhere at once. For once, a lost look across his face doesn't make him look haunted. He's just overcome.

"I feel... small."

"Small?" you ask.

"Mhm. But in a good way," he follows the third lap of a long, spotted fish, surrounded by the tiniest minnows in a cloud around it. "It's different when you're down low, when you've always seen things from up top."

The perspective he holds has been completely inverted. You worried this was a hurt he likely carried around unspoken: not being able to fly. 

"They probably think waves are like the sky to them," Keigo looks up to where he sees the residual bubbles of all the wildlife rising to the surface. The light and the overlook banisters above casting their shadows highlights the tiny pockets of air, “n’to think like that card back there said, you can’t even see the surface when you’re on the bottom of the actual ocean floor. This is– just incredible.”

You’re glad to see him so happy, to have given him something new to discover. 

Keigo is quiet for a while, until he grows softer still in his normally unwavering voice. Seems now he’s not just found his ‘inside voice’, but the one he keeps special just for you. 

“Yknow that feeling where you gotta scratch your eye, but no matter how many times you try, the itch is still there?”

You follow, with a hum.

“That’s how it feels sometimes.” Keigo doesn’t look at you, but you can read his wistfulness through the first panes of glass in front of him. “I don’t necessarily think of it every minute of every day… but man. When it itches, it really itches. And nothing settles it.”

You rarely bring the war up on your own– reminding Keigo of such fresh events would be cruel, you thought. You only respond with your thoughts whenever he asks for them in a formal, work-related capacity, but you know it’s affected him in every way regardless of how quickly he appeared to bounce back. It’s also a sensation you’d never have an equivalent to share with him. In terms of support, you often weren’t always sure what to say to console him on the days he appeared the most down; it’s not that you could ever truly relate.

Robbed of his quirk– robbed of the air. To feel as weightless as the creatures in the water, unbound by gravity.

“But these guys–” Keigo looks up again with a smirk, “--they don’t even gotta worry about things like blinking. And anytime they get caught by some seaweed or something- look how the others take care of ‘em. Look how happy they are.”

You seek out the pod of fish he’s been tracking. Expert eyes, he’s still lightyears ahead on you with his eagle eyes. They are far away now, murky due to distance from the foreground… 

…it’s not about the fish anymore. 

It’s about his healing. Finding his place in the world. Keigo feels like a fish out of water, now– even in his new role as President of the Hero Public Safety Commission, but he’s confessing a key part of his journey now: the after, and how it’s maybe not so far away as you expected. 

It took Keigo a while to sleep shirtless around you, after everything. It was physically hard to do so, first of all… but more than practically, the act of baring himself in any way was tender in more ways than that of newly supple skin. He’d grown used to his entire torso being wrapped up for so long… his true emotions concealed and lying deeper still. 

Even longer, he spent a month wearing constant compression -like a tight fitting bodyglove or even a too-small hoodie- as it was more comfortable than strutting around bare-chested as he once did. Healing was more of a never-ending action plan, rather than a passive point of rest like most would picture. There were therapies and tinctures and salves and appointments that all guided a former hero like him back into a state of truly feeling better and treated as a normal member of society- civilian. 

That title, still so strange to him. Alien. Another reason he’d wanted to keep layers on while he accepts his own skin. Over midafternoon tea one day, Keigo had grumbled on a grim day that he’d worried he’d never be considered ‘normal’, even if he completely healed; that some wounds were too deep and he’d never be seen as anything other than a hero- even a failed one.

However, the page turned one day- Keigo coming to you quickly after getting out of a shower to snuggle up to your figure washing the dishes. The telltale warmth of his chest hit the back of your shoulders, same as the arms which wrapped around you snug and close. Kisses along your neck served to try and distract you from your tasks, but the bigger surprise remained how vulnerable he stood behind you: he was shirtless once again.

The thought made you smile, your darling love finally embracing you in a fully relaxed state... Content, happy- or at the very least assured enough to turn you around, begging softly for some more kisses in that saucy way, and sheepishly requesting a backrub 'like you used to'. 

Maybe it was healing for you as well, getting the chance to cover Keigo in restorative love. It's always been a source of pride for you, and served to give you connection in ways the rest of the world didn't see– a place to put your care and attention in new ways for the man who gives his all to everyone else.

He's still so beautiful, like this. He's got spark to his chatty tongue again, a lift to his cheeks, and lingers for your every touch, melting on the spot even without a single feather to hint at how he feels. He doesn't need them; his eyes do all the talking for him.

You'd always care for the hero inside him- those instincts will never die, truly. Hawks' brilliance lives through his natural leadership and street-savvy command as head of the HPSC… But to nurture the sleepy, tired boy who is still finding his feet on the ground, who works every day to make the world a better place than the one he was brought into, and who missed out on so much… he’s your top priority.

You sink onto his shoulder, met by his craning atop yours. Though the reflection of the glass, Keigo doesn’t look at you, but bears the most content smile while resting with you, sneaking your hand and twisting the pretty rings adorned on it. He’d gifted you most of these, anyhow. 

"They're sure not in any rush,” Keigo coos after the floating, drifting life ahead of him. 

The swarms of sea life, ebb and flow of plant life, and the simulated tides created all washes over you two in quiet beauty. The way each group of fish move in their own current is the most relaxing sight and -yes- drifts along at an unhurried pace.

You hum your agreement.

"Slowing down's not such a bad thing, huh."

"No, not at all."

Eventually distracted by your own lazy watching, you check on Keigo again as he’d turned his head to kiss your temple while still entranced by the aquarium. In a soft voice, he asks with a pining whisper,

“How long we got in here, sweet’eart?”

“I think it closes at four today~” you share, but make the mental note to upgrade your passes to the annual membership before you leave…

[jiheiendonka7]

the mischaracterization of jun wu by western tgcf fans, an epidemic

to illustrate with a metaphor, jun wu resembles the duality of a crying-smiling mask. while most western tgcf fans already seem to overlook the smiling half completely, i notice a trend of reducing even the crying half into nothing more than “unadulterated hatred toward xie lian".

this often results in takes -- such as jun wu doing xie lian favours so he can make xie lian feel indebted or bestowing symbols of xie lian’s country to provoke painful memories -- that can only be explained with an "evil for the sake of being evil" tag on jun wu, takes that don't make sense when scrutinized within the context of jun wu's purpose.

so what was this guy's grand objective, anyway? he wanted xie lian to come to his side. (and to limit the scope of this discussion, we're not even going to open the pandora's box of the smiling side -- a yearning for validation of the crown prince of wuyong's dreams. that will be a post for another time.) honing in on the crying side, jun wu wanted xie lian to become the second white-clothed calamity, to agree that the common people suck, that they aren't worth saving, and that he should just give up on his dream.

what exactly does making xie lian feel indebted to him achieve? it's not like he expects xie lian to come to his side as a form of debt repayment. if the argument is that jun wu's actions aim solely to degrade xie lian or cause him suffering, this view feels like a significant mischaracterisation. jun wu isn't the type of antagonist who torments xie lian at every opportunity simply for the sake of cruelty.

likewise, reducing jun wu’s replication of the xianle palace to a mere attempt to inflict pain oversimplifies the nuances at play. the glamorous xianle palace stands in juxtaposition to xie lian's humble puqi shrine. i argue that jun wu sought to present xie lian with a tangible vision of why his path -- the path of grandeur and power -- was superior.

curiously, mxtx's pen name means "the smell of copper coins and the fragrance of ink" because she wanted to major in literature while her mother wanted her to pick economics, for the latter secured a more prosperous career. ultimately, they agreed on the best of both worlds, "holding a pen in one hand and coins in the other", the third path.

but jun wu had suggested that xie lian become his right-hand man (when preparing to greet the rain master), and from the deal he was willing to cut yin yu, we can infer that if xie lian really came to jun wu's side, he would've helped cover all of his crimes. they would pretend as if nothing had happened, just as jun wu did all these years, hiding behind glitter and gold, masking away all the decadence beneath the surface.

the gilded palace is a reflection of such a path. it's a reminder of what could've been -- if only xie lian kept "pleasing the gods", wearing the mask, turned a blind eye to the suffering. if only xie lian had chosen jun wu's path, the one beaten by so many who came before.

but that's inauthentic. that's not who xie lian is. xie lian rejects the mask because he wants to be himself. he'd rather live in shambles than accept the riches of the heavens, than choose coins with no soul. even if there is a wall straight ahead, xie lian will walk straight into it if that's where the third path leads, because he refuses to veer left or right, to choose either one of two (that's actually where the proverb that inspired the head-smashing scene originates from, by the way).

jun wu doesn’t act out of a simple desire to witness xie lian’s suffering. seeing xie lian in pain brings him no joy. after all, bai wuxiang once hugged him. half of what jun wu does serves to draw xie lian to his side, to mould him into the perfect successor who will follow his path. that, at least, is the crying half of jun wu's intent.

[utopiastri]

hiiii!

soooo i read and reread all your f1 fics.

since they are all so effing amazing, well written, funny when needed, you must have a great taste in fics. sooo do you maybe, perhaps have any landoscar fic recommendations??

have a mega day!

-💫

hi 💫 anon!!! this was. the absolute loveliest ask to wake up to this morning so thank you SO much for sending it 💕💕💕💕💕

you are so kind and please know all of these compliments have absolutely made my day!!!!!

and GOD i would LOVE to give some landoscar fic recommendations, there is nothing i love more than talking about authors i adore

i very much started rambling about these fics so i'm putting my recs below the cut!

ok immediately we're off to a rogue start because i'm going to recommend a fic that isn't posted yet but @1425fivefive's upcoming fic Learned Behavior is just honestly going to be one of the best things you will ever read - i have been honoured to receive SO many wonderful snippets from it and every single one is just as amazing as the others and i am SO excited to see the full thing

i am legally and contractually obligated to put three-sixteenths by @ipleadbritney on here because i am actually three-sixteenths' biggest fan and as part of that it is in fact my job to make sure everyone has read one of the most DELIGHTFUL magical realism fics of all time, one that fills me with such joy every time i think about it, let alone read it

by love remembered by @lellabellas is just. i LOVE fairytales so much and the way this is such a gorgeous homage to fairytales whilst also being one of the most wonderful fanfics you will ever read is honestly just. a sign of talent of truly the highest degree!!!!

brevity is the soul of wit by a_new_anon because i absolutely have to recommend one of the absolute CUTEST texting fics i have ever read. i grinned my entire way through reading it and i cannot recommend highly enough oh my GOD

the devil in me by @its-all-papaya because who am i as a person if i'm not constantly Obsessed with the idea of jealous oscar piastri. GOD this fic has everything - including one of my favourite final lines of any fic like. ever

AND on top of all of these, because i am a firm believer in showing love and affection to tumblr drabbles as well, please have a few of my favourites of those as well:

I'll Wait (I'm Sorry) by @wanderingblindly because liquid reblogged this again recently and this version of landoscar has NOT LEFT MY BRAIN SINCE!!! i reread it and had to sit down lest i faint. concept of all time i fear!!!!!!!

fireworks - prompt by @foggieststars because every so often i think about what landoscar will be like when they're no longer teammates and then i remember it doesn't matter because i can just think about one of the Sweetest drabbles i have ever read about lando and oscar dealing with oscar leaving and i am calm again

immortal - osctober prompt by @nyoomfruits because sad immortal vampire oscar has actually been haunting me for the last month and i am still SO SAD ABOUT IT (but like. in a good way obviously)

ok i will cut myself off there but !!!!! anon thank you so much for allowing me to ramble on about all this writing i love so much!!!! and thank you again for the kind words 💕💕💕

also if anyone would like to not be tagged, please let me know!!!

[r1poutmygvtz]

°•*⁀➷ Introduction °•*⁀➷

TRIGGERING BLOG: BLOCK DONT REPORT

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Height: 166cm

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[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Syverson

A little short, sweet and spicy chapter inspired by this post by @navybrat.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, Mild/Implied smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Established relationship. Reader is plus sized female. No other descriptors used.

A/N2: Sorry this is late! I swear I had it queued up and ready to go earlier today!

Previous

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Spa days weren't exactly something you were interested in. Having strangers wash your hair, rub your feet, cover your eyes with cucumbers. It was all just too much for your anxiety. And that was before you took the cost into account. But that didn't mean you couldn't still find spa adjacent ways to relax.

Sometimes, when it was just you and Lily, you'd enjoy soaking your feet in a little spa-like soaker. The warm water and gentle massage were very relaxing. Especially after Lily learned it wasn't an second water bowl. When your periods got rough, sometimes all you could do was sit there, feet soaking, heating pad over your pelvis. Lily snugged up to you, unsure of what was wrong but knowing you needed help.

Your favorite, though, was when Sy was home. Anytime you asked for a spa treatment, he smiled and prepared the body lotion for the hour long massage you were going to get. His hands were damn near magical with how good they felt. So warm, so strong, yet able to be gentle for you. Your entire body felt like jelly by the time he was done with you.

Though, in truth, he still wasn't done.

After your massage, when you can't move from how good you feel, Sy flips you onto your back and starts eating you out. He calls it his "payment" for the massage and who are you to deny him when he makes you feel so damn good? He knows he's done a good job when he has you crying out his name for the fifth time. That's when he pulls away from your oversensitive pussy and gives you a deep kiss, your juices still in his beard.

"Tell me what you need, Darlin'," he growls.

"You, Captain," you breathe. "Need you."

"That's my girl," he replies as he moves away just long enough to take off his clothes. One time he tried to keep his shirt on but you pouted that you wanted all of him. Since then, he's always removed the shirt as well.

You swear you'll never get used to the way he so easily manhandles you into whatever position he wants. It's thrilling, if only because you trust him so much. He loves to position you so that he can watch your tits bounce as he pounds into you. Loves watching your face when you cum. Loves how you call his name. He swears there's nothing more beautiful.

He always tells you that there is no "keeping score" in these kinds of things, but you're not one for receiving all the pleasure without giving some back.

On his bad days, when the nightmares wake him up, when the PTSD hits again, it's not just Lily that helps him. You know what smells to keep out of the apartment, which ones to keep to help him get back to you. You know when he needs space and when he needs to be held. You've abstained from alcohol because it was always too tempting for him to keep around. You know when to push him to talk, when to let it go.

You take care of each other, like you promised to when you exchanged vows. Neither of you ever regrets it.

Next

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@kingliam2019; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 6,623 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Era: The Whisperers Reader pronouns: she/her Warnings: language, discussions of past trauma (nothing super graphic), discussions of violence, allusions to child abuse (Alpha to Lydia), alcohol A/N: You can find the other parts to this series on my Master List! Check out my pinned post. Previous part here!

Daryl had to ram his shoulder into the door of the little cabin a couple times before it gave way, ripping off part of the doorframe in a shower of splinters. He thought you shot him a bit of a look afterward but he couldn’t be entirely sure what your intention with it was or what it was even about. After all, you weren’t happy that he’d, umm, tagged along. He signaled for Dog to enter first and he followed after with his crossbow at the ready, but the interior of the small cabin was completely quiet.

Inside, the rooms seemed to still be stocked with almost everything someone would need to actually live there. The furniture was shrouded under sheets to keep off the dust and most of the windows had been reinforced or boarded up, although their glass was smudged and dusty and a few panes were now cracked or broken out from wayward branches or hailstones. Daryl drifted back to the front door to call you inside. He found you staring at the building with a queer expression on your face, almost a haunted look. Your arm was draped across your body to press your hand to your side right over the bandage that hid Alpha’s knife wound.

“Hey,” he said gently, snapping you out of whatever had been going on inside your head. “S’clear. C’mon.”

You nodded and whistled to Achilles, who burst out of a tree above and landed on your shoulder. The noise of his wings as he fluttered down was reminiscent of wind through leaves. You climbed up the steps and across the small wooden porch to follow Daryl in. As soon as you could, you relieved your body of the burden of your pack and quiver, setting your bow beside them as well. You started pulling the dusty coverings off the furniture and clouds of speckles drifted in what little late afternoon light could still filter through the gray panes. You moved around in a way that suggested to Daryl that you knew this place well; uncovering this but not that, running your fingers along the oak mantle over the fireplace. He drifted after you as you went into the kitchen and he watched as you thumbed open the pantry. Inside were rows and rows of dusty canned vegetables, clearly homegrown and preserved.

You seemed to have felt his eyes on you and looked over before quickly shutting the cabinet again. You squeezed past him where he was standing in the doorway, nearly brushing your body against his, and stepped back into the main room. Daryl’s heart seemed to have jumped into his throat for a moment, inexplicably. He tried to gulp it back down where it belonged.

“What is this place?” he asked you. Dog had already settled down on the rug in front of the hearth like it was an old home he’d warmed his fur in many times. But Dog had a way of making himself at home that Daryl envied.

You paused, halfway through tugging a sheet off an armchair by the fire. “A cabin,” you said, looking at him with a tinge of annoyance.

Daryl sighed and frowned at you. “Ya know that ain’t what I meant. And that ain’t just it.”

You stayed frozen there for a long moment before you finished tugging the sheet off the chair and then glanced back at him, your expression distant. “It’s just—someplace I stayed once… a long time ago,” you said vaguely.

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip and nodded. “Alrigh’,” he drawled, but you could tell he knew it was more than just that. “I’ll take the couch,” he said, tossing his pack down.

“Obviously,” you retorted. “There’s only one bed and only one of us has a stab wound.” He was surprised to hear some note of jest in your voice and he looked up to catch just the momentary wink of a smile at the corners of your mouth. “You’re far too noble to make me sleep on the couch. You barely let me walk out of that community today.”

Daryl huffed a little and sat down on the couch, his mouth tightening into a thin line for a moment. “If I’d had my way—ya wouldn’t have. Ya’d still be in that clinic with Enid watchin’ ya.”

“And probably you too,” you retorted. “Yeah, I know. I’m well aware… and now I have a tail to shake off,” you retorted, easing yourself down into the armchair you had just uncovered. Your cautious movement wasn’t lost on Daryl. Your body ached and panged. You let out a heavy sigh as you sunk into the cushions.

“Good luck. Dog can track. And so can I.”

You smiled at him, a small one that seemed almost knowing. Daryl’s brow flinched down for a brief moment. On your shoulder, Achilles let out a happy sound and his large bill began to pick through and nibble your hair as if he was preening you. Your eyes crinkled in a smile as your head tilted toward the glossy black bird. You reached up and stroked the feathers on his breast and he let out a sound that was almost like a purr. You whispered something to him that Daryl couldn’t quite hear.

“How’d ya end up with him?” Daryl asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he sat forward on the edge of the couch, his attention intense.

Your eyes met his and they were tired, but soft. “Probably the same way you ended up with Dog. He came to me,” you said. Achilles climbed down your shoulder and perched beside you on the arm of the chair. He let out a harsh click click click and looked inquisitively at Dog as he lifted his head and stared back at the bird, his head tilting and his ears at attention.

Daryl nodded. “Dog wandered up to me when he was just a pup. He started comin’ round and hangin’ at my camp,” he said. He ducked your eyes and you could tell he was holding some piece of the story back, but you didn’t begrudge it.

“Your camp?” you asked.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, staring down at his hands and fiddling with a rough spot on the back of his thumb. “Ain’t like I’ve always lived inside walls. Lived way more outside of ‘em. Even before the world went to shit.”

“Mm,” you acknowledged, studying his features; his wavy hair, the sharpness of his cheekbones and jawline, the scar running above and below his left eye. You stroked Achilles’ head feathers as he bent toward you in a bow, asking for attention. “Achilles was an orphan. Fell or pushed from his nest when he was far too small. Ravens are usually cared for by both parents, so I can only assume that one or both of them were lost in a storm or to predators… I’m not sure. But he was just this tiny, helpless thing. I hand fed him and kept him warm, safe. Taught him to use his wings when he was big enough. Ravens are incredibly smart. He did the rest pretty much.”

“And now he lets ya use his feathers as a thank you?” Daryl asked, mainly joking.

You caught the jest in his tone but answered more seriously. “We’re bonded. To him, it’s like the bond he’d have with a mate or family member. Ravens are highly social. As for the feathers, it’s just that black feathers are the strongest and the most resistant to wear. A convenient fact,” you said. “And he’s kind enough to share.”

“S’that true?” Daryl asked curiously.

You met his blue eyes and a strange sensation ran through you when yours connected with his. You couldn’t quite name it, but it was… almost destabilizing. You sat with it for a moment before you answered. “Yes. That’s why many white birds, like seabirds, will have black edges to the feathers on their wings and tails. The dark pigment, melanin just like in people, actually strengthens the feather structures. It’s why they work so well for fletching.” You returned to stroking Achilles’ back, watching the shine shifting in his dark feathers as he moved.

“Hmm,” Daryl hummed, nodding. “He got anymore tricks I should know about? Besides yankin’ out my hair on command?”

You allowed yourself a small amused exhale and Daryl liked how the corners of your mouth turned up subtly and stayed there. He thought it was maybe the first actual smile he’d seen on you since he’d looked up at you in that damn tree as you told him to forget about you.

“He can talk, mimic sounds he hears. But he’s not a parrot. He won’t do it on command. Ravens are—” you paused thoughtfully, searching for the right word. “—suspicious. He’s not comfortable around new people or even new objects sometimes… Everything must be thoroughly vetted,” you explained. “If he does talk around someone, it means he’s comfortable. That he’s accepted them. They’re very wary.”

Kinda like you, Daryl thought. But he didn’t speak it. He nodded and glanced at Dog who had gone back to snoozing. “Hungry?” he asked you, climbing to his feet.

“Not really.”

“Well, too bad. ‘Cause ya gotta eat somethin’. Need to get your strength back up. Ya’ve got a lot of healin’ to do.” He started toward the kitchen and your eyes followed him across the room and through the doorway.

“You’re gonna cook?” you called after him. Achilles took off from his place on the arm of the chair and soared over to a large armoire and perched on the top.

He appeared in the doorway again and the expression on his face nearly made you laugh. “What? Ya think I can’t cook?” You shrugged and now did laugh a little. “Alrigh’, I may not be no damn chef but I can cook. I mean, it’ll at least be edible.”

“Well, that generally is the most important quality in food—that it’s edible,” you said, pushing yourself up to stand, wrapping an arm around your midsection again and pausing as some pain shot through you.

“Would ya just sit down and—”

“You aren’t exactly inspiring confidence in me about your kitchen skills,” you argued.

“Nah,” he scolded you, shaking his head. “Sit yer ass down. Now ‘m gonna really have to figure somethin’ out in here,” he drawled. “Ya should be restin’ and I dun want ya breathin’ down my damn neck while ‘m workin’ out here.”

“Breathing down your neck?” you laughed. “Christ, I wasn’t planning on that.”

“Well, I dun want ya—supervisin’ or starin’ or judgin’ me anyhow, so sit back down,” he scolded you again.

You considered him for a long moment but being on your feet again reminded you of how tired you were. “Fine. I’ll just get a fire going and then I’ll sit out here with Dog. Just try not to burn the place down or waste my ingredients, would you?”

Daryl rolled his eyes but disappeared back into the kitchen. You soon heard the clanking of pots and pans and the slamming of cabinet doors. You glanced up at the armoire to see that Achilles had made himself comfortable and tucked his head under his wing for a nap.

“Hey—anywhere to get water ‘round here?” he called out from the kitchen.

“There’s a covered well out back—least… there was when I was last here. But you should probably boil the water just in case,” you said.

You heard the back door being unlocked and tugged open. Dog lifted his head from his paws to look toward the kitchen, apparently concerned about his master leaving.

“He’ll be back,” you told the Malinois. You walked over to the hearth and Dog’s eyes followed you. You sank down to sit on the hearth, wincing at the pain running through your torso. “Fuck,” you murmured, wrapping you hand around your middle again.

Dog tilted his head and whined lightly, looking at you with bright, inquisitive eyes.

“Oh, hush. I’m fine. I don’t need you worrying about me too,” you told him, straightening and turning your attention back to the fireplace. You leaned in and opened the flue, wiping the dark smudges of soot that transferred to your hand on your pants. The basket beside the hearth still had faded newspapers, tinder and kindling piled in it and there was a large stack of dry wood beside it too, now shrouded in cobwebs and coated in dust. But you reflected on the fact that it really looked like no one had been here since you’d left… and that had been years ago.

As you busied yourself with getting a fire started, you heard Daryl enter the kitchen and get back to whatever he was doing in there. You soon had a happy blaze crackling away and it cheered and soothed you instantly, casting the previously gloomy and neglected interior in a warm glow.

Dog had already settled his head back down on his paws, but as the flames licked around the logs, he shifted more closely to it and it drew an appreciative chuckle from you. You slipped off the stone ledge of the hearth and knelt beside him on the floor. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Dog let out a content sigh and closed his eyes, the fire warming his back. You sunk your fingers into his soft fur and he quickly exposed his chest and belly for scratches, which you provided with a smile. In no time, Dog was snoozing on his side again and you propped your back against the stone ledge of the fireplace. It warmed your back and shoulders. It felt good. It helped your focus on something besides the pain in your body from your fight with Alpha. Your fingers ran through Dog’s thick fur absently, almost meditatively, and you let your mind drift for the first time since you’d left The Hilltop.

Daryl appeared in the doorway and looked in, surprised to see you nearly cuddled up with Dog on the floor. You must have felt him looking at you because you glanced up, and it was like a lightning bolt shot through him at the exact moment your eyes met his. His heart jumped in his chest and he found himself inexplicably nervous. “Dog’s won ya over, huh?” he drawled. “I might have to ask him for some tips.”

“Not anything you could emulate,” you joked.

“Nothin’?”

“He’s not a person. I tend to prefer most animals to people.”

Daryl smiled briefly. “Yeah. I think tha’s fair.” He ran a hand nervously over the back of his neck. “Well—food s’almost done. Can’t say whether it’s any good or not—”

“It smells good,” you remarked. “Even if I don’t feel much like eating.” You started to try to climb to your feet, grimacing and struggling to even get your feet under you at all, let alone stand up. Daryl hesitated for a split second before rushing over.

“Uhh—can I—can I please help ya up before ya rip a damn stitch?” he asked.

You struggled for one more second, but sore and exhausted, you relented and gave him a hesitant nod. He extended his hands and you delayed a moment longer, looking unsure, before placing yours in his. He gently pulled you to your feet and for some strange reason the two of you were frozen for a moment. The time had passed when he should have let go and you both felt it. Your breath seemed caught in your throat until he finally slipped his hands softly away from yours, tingles left behind like the ghosts of his touch, and he cleared his throat. “I’ll just go check on the—the food. Ya should go sit down,” he drawled, and he made a hasty exit for the kitchen.

Ten more minutes passed and Daryl came out with two steaming bowls. Funny enough, both Dog and Achilles perked up as he handed one to you where you had sunk into the armchair again. “S’just—some dried beans and bunch of those canned veggies ya had in there. Tomatoes, onions, garlic, uhh… peppers, I think? Careful. Bowl is hot.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, accepting it by the top edge of the bowl. Your fingertips brushed the back of his hand and Daryl swore there was a static charge, though you didn’t seem to react as if you’d been shocked. Achilles stretched and then fluttered over to perch on the back of your chair, letting out a squawk and interested trill as he peered over your shoulder at what was in your bowl, tilting his glossy black head this way and that. Dog trotted over to beg at Daryl’s side and while he watched Daryl eat, a string of drool grew in length until it touched Daryl’s knee and pooled a bit on his black pants.

He let out a disgusted noise. “Agh… Dog! Dammit, get back!”

You couldn’t help chuckling a little as you scraped at the last of your meal.

Daryl looked up in surprise. “What? Yer laughin’?”

You glanced up still smiling and shrugged a little. “Maybe,” you said, unable to hide another chuckle at his expense.

“Yeah, real nice. After I cooked ya this five-star meal,” he joked.

“It was actually pretty good,” you admitted. “Maybe I was hungry after all.”

“Ya should be,” he murmured, chewing his last bite and wiping at his mouth with his sleeve. “Ya ain’t had anything in how many days?” He stood and came to collect your bowl.

“No—I’ll deal with the dishes,” you argued. “You cooked.”

“Nah—look at ya,” he growled, taking your bowl. “Ya can barely stand up. And ya sure as shit ain’t haulin’ more water like that. Just lemme do this.”

You watched his broad shoulders retreat toward the kitchen. “I can stand you know! We walked how many miles today?”

His voice rang out from the kitchen again. “Exactly. Ya did yer standin’ and walkin’. More than ya shoulda. Ya should’ve been in bed all damn day!”

You rolled your eyes but got to your feet anyway and threw a couple more logs onto the fire, blowing on the coals to get them to catch. Dog came back to the rug in front of the hearth and circled a few times before laying down. You wandered over to a painting hanging over a long, low bookshelf. It depicted an early morning landscape shrouded in fog. The grass was luminescent with dew and you could practically taste the verdant smell of the meadow as you looked at it. But you lifted a hand and nudged it aside. It swung on the wire hanging over the nail and revealed a little nook behind it.

Daryl was walking back out of the kitchen and froze at the threshold. “What’re ya doin’?” he asked, his brow furrowed. He watched curiously as you withdrew a glass bottle and then replaced the painting. You straightened it carefully before you looked over at him.

You held it up so the light from the fire cascaded through the deep amber liquid inside.

He frowned. “Uhh… should ya be drinkin’ in yer condition?”

This drew another dry laugh from you. “I’m not pregnant. I have a knife wound. And… some other bruises. It’s fine.”

His brow furrowed. “Dun ya have a concussion?”

“It’ll be fine. Look—I need something to take the edge off, alright?”

“Yeah, ya should’ve stayed in the clinic,” he said for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. “Enid woulda had pain meds for ya.”

“Well, I didn’t,” you replied. “Am I drinking alone or what?”

He fixed a long stare on you and then sighed, giving in.

“Great. Get some cups from the kitchen, would you?”

He returned with two mugs and handed you one. You poured in a healthy share of whiskey and then held the bottle up to offer him some. He held his mug out. “Not sure I should be encouraging this…”

“Come on. After all the trauma I just went through you can’t let me drink alone,” you joked wryly.

He shook his head at you but took his glass over to the couch and sat down, planting his boots up on the coffee table and taking an exploratory sip. “Mmm. S’pretty damn good whiskey.”

“Yep. Medicinal grade,” you said, gulping down a good amount. You were hoping it would ease not only the pain in your body, but quiet your anxious thoughts a little too. A slightly fuzzy head sounded good at the moment. Either way, a nightcap hit the spot after the decent meal and with the fire crackling in the fireplace… You could almost forget outside was a hellish nightmare of death and violence. Almost. You never could completely forget.

“Pretty nice place ya got here. And pretty well stocked,” Daryl said, interrupting your train of thought.

“Who says it’s my place?” your retorted.

“You did.”

“No. I just said I stayed here once.”

Daryl gave you a knowing look. “Alrigh’. Maybe ya didn’t say exactly, but ya know where the damn hidden booze stash is… And I could tell even before that. Ya moved around in here like ya knew it. But… ya left so many things behind, especially all that food in the kitchen. Ain’t exactly like ya can walk down to the grocery store and pick up what ya need anywhere.”

You ducked his gaze and ran a finger over the curving handle of the mug in your hand. You raised it to your lips and took another big sip. The burn down your throat and into your stomach felt good.

“Ya have to leave here in a hurry?” he asked. You didn’t answer, but Daryl didn’t seem to need you to and he wasn’t deterred. If you had looked up, you would have seen his blue eyes narrowed perceptively, flickering over your features. “Ya left it all here on purpose. As a… like a safehouse,” he said, nodding. He didn’t ask it as a question. “As a ‘just in case’,” he finished. “Yeah. Ya seem to live your whole life with a ‘just in case’.”

You looked up at him, your brow slightly furrowed. “What does that mean?” you asked, an edge to your tone.

He shrugged. “Nothin’. Sorry. I dun mean anythin’ bad by it. Prob’ly just means—ya didn’t have a ‘just in case’ sometime when ya needed it. And ya ain’t ‘bout to make that mistake twice.”

You gulped, feeling how exquisitely close to the mark he was deep in your midsection as a tense knot materializing somewhere behind your navel. You downed the last of your whiskey and eyed the bottle again.

“Must be a lot for ya to have me here, lettin’ somebody else know ‘bout it. Thanks for trustin’ me that much.” You did. You didn’t know why, but you did. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d trusted some—wait. Yes, you could. “Ya won’t tell me a thing more about ya? About what’s happened to ya?” he asked. “Bout the trees? Bein’ up there?” His voice was gentle and patient. Your eyes flickered back over to where he was sitting reclined on the couch, his hands absently twirling his mug.

“Why do you want to know my story?” you asked in a low voice.

He shrugged. “‘M just—tryin’ to understand ya,” he drawled.

Your brow furrowed. “But why?” you asked softly. “Why does it matter?”

Daryl fiddled with his now empty mug and shrugged again. “It just does. To me. Ya saved my life and I can’t shake the feeling that yer in somethin’ with these Whisperers, Shepherds as ya call ‘em. And if ya are, I want ya to know that ya dun gotta do it alone. My place, the communities ‘m tied to, they’re full of good people. People who’d help ya. People who did help ya.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that I recognized Lydia and know about The Shepherds? All these questions,” you said.

“No. But I ain’t gonna lie and say I don’t wish ya’d just tell me what ya know.”

You grabbed the bottle and poured in a generous amount of whiskey again. You leaned forward, ignoring how it sent a sharp pain through your stomach, and set the bottle in front of him on the coffee table. You considered him for a long moment. You thought about his people who had saved you, about the place they’d brought you to. It had seemed wholly good. He seemed wholly good. Your gut was telling you, over and over, that you could trust him. It had told you that since the night he’d ended up at your tree in the storm. But you’d been wrong before and you had to consider this all carefully. What harm could come from opening up, just a little bit, to this one person? Logically, you didn’t think much, but it still felt… scary. You took a small sip of whiskey and let it sit on your tongue a moment, the smokiness of the oak. “I can’t really tell you one without the other, I suppose.”

“What d’ya mean?”

“About them and about me, at least some of it. In some—sick way, we’re connected.” You froze for a moment, truly wondering where to start. Daryl leaned forward and poured another share of whiskey into his glass before sitting on the edge of the couch, leaned forward, ready to listen intently. “I know a lot about The Shepherds,” you said. “More than probably anyone alive who isn’t one of them.” You gulped and tried to suppress the flashbacks that were threatening to surge forward. Your hand shook as you raised your mug to your lips again and took a big drink. “Alpha is not someone you want to fuck with lightly. She’s ruthless, even to her own people. The things I’ve seen her do—” You broke off and shook your head, shutting your eyes for a moment as you tried to retain your composure. You licked your lips and went on. “Look, without going into my whole backstory since the world went to shit—I was part of a community once. One that was probably a lot like yours. All of a sudden, Alpha comes out of nowhere and starts telling us that we’re trespassing on her lands when we’re hunting the same areas we’d been hunting for years. She threatened us with consequences if we didn’t pay attention to her borders. But the reality was that we had hungry people, hungry kids to feed. It was winter and game was already scarce. Supplies were tight. I wasn’t going to wait around listening to the leaders sitting on their asses talking while kids starved. I went out and hunted like I felt I had a right to. The way I had been…” You felt as if a concrete block had just materialized on your chest. It was built of residual anger and grief and guilt and blame… “‘Fuck her borders,’ I thought.” You averted your eyes to stare down into your mug, swirling the whiskey inside and chewing on your bottom lip. Daryl swore he could see the color draining from your face. “One of them saw me. Of course they did… we didn’t know they wore the dead’s faces then... But I figured it out real quick when what I thought was a walker started attacking me with a knife. That one and two more ended up dead.” You sighed and your head fell back against the chair. Achilles, still perched on the back, picked at your hair and let out a soft rasp. “If they’d managed to kill me, that might’ve just been the end of it,” you thought aloud. “Probably not. But maybe.”

Daryl gulped. He had a bad feeling about where this was going. “What happened after that?”

You let out a dry laugh and blinked away the moisture burning in your eyes. “Alpha went back to my community, where the leaders themselves were enjoying the venison and rabbit and quail I had shot, and offered them a deal. But she didn’t come alone this time. She brought a horde with her, and delivered a note into their hands. A final warning. If no one else crossed her borders again, she would leave the community alone. But there was a caveat. She wanted me in exchange,” you said.

“Dun tell me they—” but Daryl broke off, reading the answer on your face. He couldn’t even begin to contemplate that level of betrayal.

“They did. More than that, they did it right proper, with a vote. Yay, democracy,” you said wryly. “They traded me for their safety. Turns out one of the ones I killed was Alpha’s number two. Beta. Not the same Beta she has now, obviously. A different one. And she was pissed. She was pissed that I’d killed them, but more than that she was pissed that I had defied her, ignored her. If there’s one thing Alpha hates, it’s people who aren’t intimidated by her. She wants people scared, even her own. It makes her feel… powerful.”

Daryl stared down into his mug and then downed the whole thing. “I’ve known—plenty of people like that.”

You nodded. “Yeah. They seem to do well these days.”

“So, what? They took ya prisoner? And your community just went on livin’?” The rage in his chest was starting to boil over.

“Not exactly.”

Daryl’s brow was low over his blue eyes, casting them in shadow. “So, what happened?”

“I was taken to Alpha’s camp as a prisoner,” you said, resting your hand over the knife wound again, which seemed to pulse and burn as you talked about the one who’d given it to you. “I think I’ll—I’ll gloss over the finer points of that experience…” Your voice went soft and trailed away.

He ducked his head. Though across the room, he could feel the waves of pain and suffering radiating off you. He cleared his throat finally so you’d look up at him again. “Look, ‘m sorry. Ya dun gotta tell me any more of this if—if it’s too—”

“We already started,” you said, straightening up again. “Might as well finish.”

He nodded. “Where’d Lydia come in?” Daryl asked.

Your expression unstiffened, became less stony. “She was really just a kid then. Little. I saw Alpha beat the shit out of her countless times for screwing up, which was really just being a kid with normal needs. Sometimes, at night when she couldn’t sleep which was often, Lydia would come and talk to me. She’d ask me questions about the old world or about where I came from. Bring me whatever little bit of food or water she could. There was a—a kindness in her that her mother couldn’t kill. But it didn’t stop her from trying. Eventually, Lydia saw that they were going to kill me. I was going to die. Whether it would be from exposure, or hunger, or sickness, or the fighting, or whether Alpha just decided ‘today is the day’… neither of us knew, but I was going to die there.”

Daryl drew in a sharp breath as he realized. “She let ya go. Lydia.”

You nodded. “Yeah. And I tried to take her with me, to convince her that she didn’t deserve everything her mother—” you broke off and shook your head. “She wouldn’t. She was young. She was afraid. She almost didn’t remember any other kind of life…” Daryl watched you wince at the thought of leaving her behind.

“S’not yer fault,” he said. You looked up at him quickly, vague surprise on your face. “Ya tried. Ya can’t help people if they ain’t ready for it.”

You let out a wry laugh. “That sounds familiar… considering recent events,” you joked, giving him a semi-sheepish look.

“So, what happened after ya escaped?”

“I… went back. After what I’d seen out there, I had to try and warn them. Even if they’d traded me like a fucking sack of corn, I had to tell them. They betrayed me, maybe as good as killed me in some ways, but there were plenty of people in there who didn’t deserve what would come from The Shepherds, from Alpha. They were scared…”

Daryl’s brow furrowed more heavily. He stared in disbelief. “Ya went back… to the damn people who—”

“No.”

“No?” he repeated, confused.

Tears welled up in your eyes again and you fought against them, blinking rapidly to clear the blur. “No. I was too late. There was… nothing to go back to. No one. They were all dead. The whole place was ransacked, destroyed. Alpha had brought her horde in. She’d lied. There was never any fucking deal. She put the community board’s heads on pikes,” you said, your face distorting in disgust and anger as you remembered it, could almost taste the copper in the air.

Daryl’s heart sunk into his boots. “Fuck… ‘m—‘m sorry.” The distant look grew in your eyes again. You seemed to fade away, behind some gray veil where he wasn’t sure he’d be able to reach you again. Your voice drifted out from behind it.

“I still wonder if I hadn’t gone out hunting there again,” you shook your head, “maybe none of it would have turned out that way. All those people… families. Kids. They’d still be alive. Maybe the community would still be standing.”

Daryl’s chest ached. He felt hollow. Not just because of what you were telling him, of what had happened to you, but at the thought that it might happen to the people he cared about—The Hilltop, Alexandria. “Look, I’ve done things—things that I felt led—to some real bad shit happenin’. Got people killed.” Flashbacks of the line-up burst behind his eyes and he had to close them for a moment and steel himself before he could go on. “But we dun get to know. We don’t. It ain’t how it works. So, ya can’t keep on carryin’ that guilt. Maybe shit woulda turned out different, but maybe it woulda turned out exactly the same. Hell, maybe it woulda been worse. Ya made a choice to try and feed some of yours. Ain’t no blame in that.”

You looked up at him for a long moment and finally sighed. “After that, I just… I left. I hid.”

“Here?” Daryl asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. I found it and I built it into some kind of a life until I was ready to go after them.”

“Alpha.”

“And the others. She has a lot of loyal followers who are nearly as fucked up as her. If I get the chance to take them out, I do.”

Daryl set down his empty mug and clasped his hands between his knees. “Why was Lydia so angry with ya? When we went to see her at The Hilltop?”

“Because I’m killing them. Because she knows I want to kill Alpha. Because she knows she should have left with me? I don’t know. All of the above.”

Daryl’s mind was whirling, but he could see that you were exhausted, physically and now emotionally. “Thanks for tellin’ me,” he said. “I mean it. That—that can’t be easy to talk about. And… I understand why ya felt—unsafe at The Hilltop. It’s a community and it’s got people and I sure as shit would have some fuckin’ trust issues after that,” he said.

You let out an amused exhale. “Trust issues? Who says I have trust issues?”

“Oh—Nah, I—No, I didn’t—”

You let out a laugh and it broke the tension immediately. “Relax, Daryl. I’m kidding. You nailed it. But—I also suspect you may have some,” you said perceptively.

“Me?” he retorted. “Nah, I trust ev’rybody. ‘M a real open book…”

“Uh huh…” You leaned to one side as Achilles suddenly took off and landed almost silently on the rug beside Dog. He hopped closer and tilted his head one way and another, puffing up the feathers on his head and chest. Dog lifted his head lazily and turned to look at the bird. Achilles let out a low croak and strutted closer. “Achilles,” you said in a warning tone. “Be nice.”

He flapped his wings a little and walked around toward Dog’s tail. “Achilles…” But the raven showed no sign he was listening. He took a hop toward Dog’s long tail, the Malinois looking on, and then seemed to consider something for a moment. He made an exploratory grab at Dog’s tail, which the Malinois quickly flicked away and punctuated the action with a low growl. Achilles’ head tilted this way and that, thoughtfully, but the next second he hopped closer and repeated the annoyance. Dog rearranged himself more strategically on the rug, flicking his tail away again and curling his front toward the bird. He let out an annoyed noise. Achilles flapped his wings and gurgled, taking in Dog’s much closer muzzle and watchful gaze. Then, apparently undeterred, he darted forward, took hold of the end of Dog’s tail in his bill, and pulled. Dog lunged and barked. “Achilles!” you scolded him as he flew away with his prize, a tuft of Dog’s fur, and soared a victory lap around the room back up to the top of the armoire again.

Daryl couldn’t help himself and laughed at the bird’s antics. You rolled your eyes. “Don’t encourage his bad behavior,” you said. “Achilles, come on!” you said, pushing yourself up to stand. “Bedtime. Let’s go.” You held out your arm and he soared over and landed gracefully. You scratched his head affectionately. “Sorry, Dog. He can be pretty incorrigible.” The Malinois blinked at you, sighed, and went back to sleep. “Alright,” you sighed. “I’m pretty tired so… I think I’ll turn in.”

“Yeah. Yeah, good idea,” Daryl said, standing abruptly and awkwardly rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Dog and I will hold down the fort out here…”

You nodded and started toward the door that led to the bedroom. “Night.”

“Night…”

When you got to the threshold, you looked back at him. “I meant what I said, you know. About Alpha. You and yours should take The Shepherds seriously. Especially since you have Lydia, the whole community could be in danger. To her, Lydia is a possession.”

He nodded, a little confused by the abrupt warning. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks again, for tellin’ me.”

With another nod, you disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door softly behind you.

[caitified]

kate x model?

model

kate martin x reader

warnings: jealously, i used them as the pronouns if i haven’t done this for other fics and you want me to switch i can! maybe a part 2 where they go to an event or something lmk

kate never expected herself to be the jealous type. she was grounded, confident in who she was, and knew she didn’t need anyone else’s validation. but dating you – with the world’s attention on you, people leaving adoring comments and celebrities tagging you in every other post – it brought out a side of her she hadn’t seen before. she had experienced some of this herself, but this was different.

she’d scroll through your posts sometimes, reading the comments that poured in after each new campaign, each runway shot, and couldn’t help feeling a tight knot in her chest. it was a mix of pride and something deeper, something almost possessive.

“can you blame them?” she muttered to herself, eyeing a recent photo dump you posted recently. but then she’d read comments like, “god, [y/n] is unreal. if i had a shot, i’d never let them go,” and it’d make her bite her lip, trying to shake off the small pang of jealousy creeping in.

she knew it was silly – she knew you loved her, had shown her countless times, but still… seeing the world fawn over you, knowing how much attention you attracted, it made her wonder if one day you’d realize just how many options you had.

one evening, after you wrapped a big photoshoot, you came home to find kate in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone. she quickly put it down when she heard you come in, flashing you a warm smile, but you noticed the slight tension in her shoulders.

“hey, you,” you said softly, crossing the room to wrap your arms around her from behind. “missed you today.”

she leaned back into your embrace, letting out a sigh as you kissed her neck. “missed you too.” her voice was soft, but you could sense something was on her mind.

“everything okay?” you asked gently, turning her around to face you. your eyes met hers, searching.

kate hesitated, then let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “yeah, it’s just… sometimes it’s weird, you know? seeing all those comments. all these people who think they know you, who say things like they… like they could just be with you.” she looked down, almost sheepish. “i know it’s stupid. i know i’m the one who gets to be with you, but sometimes… i don’t know. i just get a little jealous.”

you reached up, cupping her face, guiding her gaze back to yours. “kate, you have nothing to worry about,” you whispered, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “those people don’t know me like you do. they don’t know how much i love the way you make me laugh when no one’s around, or how you hold me when i’m stressed, or the way you look at me like i’m the only one in the room.”

she felt her cheeks warm, but her lips curled into a shy smile, the tension in her shoulders easing.

“besides,” you continued, your voice dropping as you leaned in close, lips barely grazing hers, “you’re the only one i want looking at me like that. you’re the only one who gets all of me, every piece.”

she let out a soft breath, her hands slipping to your waist, pulling you flush against her. “you have no idea what that does to me,” she murmured, her voice a bit huskier now. “i may not love sharing you with the world, but… you make it worth it.”

the intensity in her gaze sent shivers through you, and you melted into her as she kissed you deeply, her hands gripping you with a quiet need that told you everything she couldn’t put into words.

when you finally pulled back, her eyes were warm, but that fierce spark was still there. “you’re mine,” she murmured, almost to herself, as if to reaffirm it.

“always,” you whispered back, your fingers lacing with hers. you gave her hand a squeeze, grounding her in that quiet promise that she was the only one for you.

[lara-cairncross]

Hi! how are you? I hope fine!

I wanted to know if you could recommend me some Mikey angst fanfics. I feel like I've read them all and at the same time I haven't, hehe.

Love your fairy AU its verry beautyful

(My english is not the best 😅)

heya! i'm glad you like the au :D

I can definitely give u some recommendations for michelangelo fanfics! can't guarantee you haven't read them already, but hopefully a few of them are novel. also gonna tag @roronoacoldbrew, @desterea, and @appleblondie0397, cuz y'all asked for some mikey recs too!

I'm not gonna include all my recs, cuz that would take ages, but I DO have a collection on Ao3 that has like, ~250 entries. and they're 90% mikey-centric, sooooo there's a lot more there! it's linked at the bottom of this post :D

i'll be your detonator -> rottmnt, 4k one-shot, oh my god this fic/series deserves so much more attention. bad future timeline, follows Mikey being THE coolest motherfucker while having several mental breakdowns and arguing with Leo and missing his brothers a lot. the writing style of this author is probably my favorite on this entire list-- like, I would read a novel written like this!!! please read it oh my GOD. and then message me to tell me you read it so I can have somebody to talk about it with I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH

atrophy -> 2012, 36k two-shot. ohhhhh boy this one is NOTHING but angst. follows Mikey reflecting on his life and his relationships with his brothers, right before a suicide attempt. second chapter is his brothers reflecting on their relationships with him as they try to save his life. if I'm being honest, the language is a little too flowery for my taste at certain points? but it's also VERY visceral and graphic, and if you're looking for angst this is literally as angsty as it gets!! like seriously check the tags on this one

1660 days ago -> rottmnt, 4k one-shot human au that isn't exactly mikey-centric?? but basically, follows Donnie's POV after he, Raph, and Leo all die in their family home and stay behind as ghosts. Mikey is a little kid who moves in and is the only one who can see them, and they all begrudgingly adore him. ITS SO CUTE AND IT NEEDS MORE ATTENTION PLEASE. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

over the rainbow -> 2012 x rottmnt, by @vanillavengeance! I think a lot of people have read their other fic (which is also amazing and definitely recommended), but their most recent one is SO GOOD ALREADY and it deserves more attention. Rise!Mikey opens a portal as a tot, falls straight into the 2012 verse, and gets found by Karai-- so he ends up in the hands of the Foot Clan! SUCH good Mikey angst and the relationship between 2012 Raph and Rise Mikey is absolutely adorable, I love them so much :,) 2012 RAPH IS SUCH A BIG BROTHER AND I WILL NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT IT

house away from home -> 2012, AuDHD Mikey rep!! and also anxiety and self-esteem issues and dysfunctional family activities and swufhehnfenhhjrr HEY I LOVE THIS FIC but it does. hit a little close to home. REALLY WELL WRITTEN AND FANTASTIC EMOTIONAL ANGST THO! and also Woody is here :D completed, but the author has it listed as 3/4 chapters, so don't be scared off by that!

choose wisely (or at all) -> rottmnt, 8k one-shot, turtle tots!!! this one is SO CUTE omg-- basically, Mikey is his brothers' favorite playmate, but because he's so little all three of them just kinda??? make him play whatever they wanna play? LIKE ok it's hard to explain but it's literally just a fic about little kids messing around and how being the youngest sibling sucks and learning to speak up for urself and it's PERFECT. THIS IS MY COMFORT FIC. its sweet its fluffy its (slightly) angsty and i love it dearly!!!!

stalling -> 2012, 1k one-shot. VERY short but pure Mikey angst. he stays behind to fight Shredder to give his human siblings time to escape and warn the other turtles :,)

walk with open hands -> 2012, 10k two-shot by @goodlucktai. Mikey gets his hands on one of Renet's time-traveling clocks after Splinter dies, and jumps around the timeline to try and save him. takes some really cool cues from Rise!Mikey's powers! GOD I CANNOT RECOMMEND THIS FIC ENOUGH. like this altered my brain chemistry the first time I read it.

--actually now that I think about it. basically ANYTHING BY THIS AUTHOR IS AMAZING. so much fantastic 2012 Mikey-centric stuff!!! you do have to go back to their older works, since most of their recent fics have been about Rise Leo-- but it's worth it! a few of my other favorites by them are:

the entire give up the ghost series -> 2012 human au where Donnie dies, Mikey is the only one who can see him, and he becomes a paranormal investigator in college because of it;

problem child -> 2012 human/highschool au that's basically 100k words of the 2012 boys fucking around and being family and overcoming difficulties together and Mikey being the most annoying lovable golden-retriever ray of sunshine to ever exist;

traveling so far to get there -> 2012 one-shot where Mikey and Raph end up in a post-apocalyptic world and just kinda,,, chill? until they don't. idk how to explain it but it's really fun, I love how Mikey and Raph's dynamic is written here :D

either way, we're not alone -> rottmnt, 16k one-shot that takes place over the course of the Kraang invasion in the bad future timeline, all from Mikey's POV. another one that doesn't have NEARLY as many hits as it deserves oh my god-- I love love love fics that take a look at this timeline and how fucked up it was! and this is a rly nice mikey-centric one :)

promise -> rottmnt, 8k two-shot by @dysfunctional-doodle. Listen this author has so many amazing Mikey fics from basically every iteration, BUT. THIS ONE. THIS FIC IN PARTICULAR. IS ABSOLUTELY MY FAVORITE. follows Mikey in the good timeline as he grows his mystic powers, with the caveat that he starts seeing visions of the future. I ain't spoiling anything more than that but GOD plz read this one it makes me insane, and the second chapter??? HEARTBREAKING the angst is 10/10. I also really really love this fic by the same author, so that's another one I recommend checking out if you haven't read it before!

big siblings, big family -> 2012, 2k one-shot. this one's pretty short BUT ITS SO CUTE. Mikey gets sick with a virus that only infects mutants, so all his human siblings get to take care of him-- featuring big brother Casey and big sister April and big sister Karai, and hey. hey what if I screamed. i love this concept so much THOSE ARE HIS BIG SIBLINGS!!! AND HE'S THEIR LITTLE BROTHER!!!! this makes me so happy, not super angsty but Mikey does get REALLY sick so you can count it as hurt/comfort :D

orenjinohana -> rottmnt, currently 120k+ words by @geoblitzz and @urlocalllama!! this fic is SO fucking angsty and delicious and terrifying,,, like I would get sick to my stomach with anxiety whenever a new chapter dropped. Mikey catches the eye of a really dangerous yokai and gets kidnapped, abuse and gaslighting and angst ensue. you gotta be especially careful with the tags/trigger warnings on this one tho-- not gonna spoil too much, but things get dark. this fic isn't complete, but it's reached a very natural end to its first arc in my opinion? so you can finish it without feeling like you've read an incomplete fic :) also check the comment section on every chapter if u wanna see me going insane I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH

the better half of better things -> 2012, 4k one-shot, ITS SO FUCKING CUTE. Mikey and Leo hanging out at 3am, Leo comes out as transfem to Mikey, sibling bonding ensues. this is another author that I LOVE the writing style of, but this time it's more for their humor??? like the comedic timing in their fics is SO GOOD. this fic in particular is my favorite but they've written some really fun Rise ones too! not angsty at all but as the CEO of baja blast duo I needed to include it lmao

wanting, getting, needing -> rottmnt, 2.5k one-shot. Mikey dies saving Leo during the events of the movie, and everything kinda falls apart without him. this one's pretty short but ngl I LOVE this concept, Mikey is always depicted as the heart of the team in every iteration so it's super fun to see what happens when he's no longer there!

remember your mission -> 2012, 60k words. IT'S A FUCKING MIKEY-CENTRIC PACIFIC RIM AU. I love this fic to death. it's got ANGST it's got COMFORT it's got SIBLING BONDING it's got,,,, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. but also the sillies being silly!!! anyway the ending broke me. read this one at ur own risk but like,,, DO ACTUALLY READ IT LMAO and then. once again. yell at me that you did so I can talk to somebody about it. Mikey being able to drift with basically any of his family members??? and the four main boys all being interchangeable because they're just THAT close????? perfection

someone to protect -> 2012, 3k one-shot. Mikey's brothers get turtlenapped during a mission that goes wrong, he gets to be a badass and rescue them, and ends up getting seriously injured in the process. hurt and comfort! yay!

our hearts beat louder (than thunder) -> rottmnt, currently 5k words by @belleyells and still being updated as far as I know! Mikey gets injured during a battle and loses his memory; cue older brothers being worried sick and trying to prevent Mikey from freaking out and being scared of them. I'm so excited to see where this one is going!! it's angsty, but Mikey with memory loss is also just,,, really fun to read about in my opinion ahdhehfhrh

the night at rucker park -> rottmnt, 78k words. Shellshocked fic!!! honestly, one of the few Mikey/Miles fics where I feel like both of them are characterized really accurately? anyway its ~80k words of the two of them falling in love and fucking around and being idiots and-- in Miles' case-- slowly experiencing cellular decay! Yay for angst! I know I keep saying this but GOD I LOVE THIS FIC. IT DESERVES MORE ATTENTION. give it some love plz, it's also one of the only finished Shellshocked multi-chapter fics I could find (coming from somebody who currently has an unfinished multi-chapter Shellshocked fic shhhhhh)

be like your brothers (and never like yourself) -> 2012, 25k words. this is another author who has so many FANTASTIC mikey-centric fics from multiple iterations, but this one is definitely my favorite from them!! Mikey's self-worth is so low that he starts picking up specific traits from each of his brothers in an effort to be more "useful", which. doesn't go very well. very angsty, lots of mikey hurting (emotionally and physically), but also pretty cute at the end! hurt/comfort my beloved mwah <333 I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH something about it itches my brain

feed me poison till i drown -> 2007, 8k one-shot. Leo leaves, everything kinda falls apart, aaaaand Mikey ends up being convinced to join the Foot Clan by Karai! and the eventually his brothers find out and everything goes very terribly wrong. and i love it. the ending is also left up to interpretation, so it's a really cool read! not super angsty, but Karai's mind games leave Mikey as an unreliable narrator, and the breakdown of his relationship with his family is really well done :D plus anything with Karai and Mikey bonding makes me happy sooooooo

trust is earned (not freely given) -> 2007, 2.5k one-shot, from the same author as the previous entry I believe? mikey's brothers slowly realize that something is wrong with him-- they can't read his emotions or his actions anymore, he dodges questions, etc etc. eventually donnie realizes that they fucked up and he doesn't know how to fix it! no real resolution, just angst and dysfunctional families YAY

when you can't sleep at night -> rottmnt, 7k one-shot. follows three separate instances in Mikey's life where he had trouble falling asleep for whatever reason, went to his brothers for help, and got all the sibling love and comfort he deserves :D primarily fluffy but there's definitely some hurt/comfort in here, especially for the part that takes place after the events of the movie! this is another comfort fic for me ahdhehfhher it's just. very cute. and it reminds me SO MUCH of my little brother when he was a toddler SO IT MAKES ME FEEL SAD AND HAPPY AT THE SAME TIME RAHHHHH

so, I guess we all have issues -> 2012, 122k, human au. OH MY GOD. LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN EVERYTHING BY THIS AUTHOR IS SOME OF THE BEST SHIT YOU'LL READ IN THIS FANDOM BUT THIS FIC IN PARTICULAR WAS SOOOOO FUCKING GOOD. super fucking angsty, but also a lot of sibling bonding??? technically found family??? basically, the 2012 boys all get reincarnated as humans, but Mikey is the only one who remembers their past lives and the fact that they're siblings. he goes on this whole journey to find out where Leo and Raph and Donnie ended up (kinda? cuz in the end they all sort of come to HIM instead but yknow), and has to convince them of the fact that they were mutant ninja turtles in a past life. so that's fun! also raph is trans and leo has PTSD and donnie is struggling as a child genius AND ITS SO GOOD AND SO ANGSTY AND SO FLUFFY AND ITS COMPLETED SO THERES NO REASON WHY YOU SHOULDNT READ THIS RIGHT FUCKING NOW RAHHHHHH

other fics (specifically mikey-centric) by the same author because i swear to god they're LEGENDARY TO ME:

on the flipside -> rottmnt one-shot where April and the boys get hit with some kind of species-swap spell, and April ends up as a mutant turtle while the boys end up as humans;

exhaust trails through space -> 2012 one-shot where Donnie and Mikey need a fucking vacation from Earth (don't we all), so Donnie gets a spaceship from Bishop and Pb&J duo get to fuck around the cosmos for a few weeks and ignore their problems while actually enjoying each others' company;

(un)reality -> 2012 two-shot where Mikey gets captured by the Kraang during his stint in Dimension X and basically gets brainwashed to the point where he tries to kill his brothers when they finally come for him;

play the fool, pity the fool -> 2012 two-shot with MEGA depressed Mikey, this one in particular is really well written-- his downward spiral into depression, his suicide attempt, and his eventual recovery are all written beautifully and realistically and MMM it's so fucking good;

if i could have it back -> 2012 one-shot human au/apocalypse/zombie au, where Mikey and Donnie get separated from the rest of their family and have to survive long enough to find them again;

these days -> 2012 multichapter, unfinished BUT basically Mikey and Donnie get fed up with the way Leo and Raph are acting after Splinter's death (this fic definitely bashes them a little but it's still a good read), and decide to leave the lair and build their own home away from their dysfunctional family;

division difference -> 2012 multichapter, also sadly unfinished BUT it's about Donnie and Mikey getting separated from Splinter and their brothers as tots and growing up feral-- super intriguing concept, and very well written :DD

the broken and the helper -> rottmnt, 9k words. Mikey playing therapist for literally his whole family except himself and completely burning out. and then his brothers figure that out and talk to him and its all very fluffy and sweet in the end and sometimes that's what i need. not super angsty, but definitely hurt/comfort!

angelo -> rottmnt, 4k one-shot. AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MIKEY GETTING THE NICKNAME "ANGELO" FROM LEO BC LEO SEES HIM AS A GUARDIAN ANGEL. baja blast duo fics you have such a special place in my heart (I need more of them) AND THIS ONE IS JUST SO CUTE IM SORRY. a little bit of angst bc of,,,, movie events? but still very cute :)

consuming darkness -> 2012, 68k words. Mikey messes up on a mission and it ends up getting Donnie seriously injured. he gets blamed by his brothers, internalizes it, gets serious with his training and basically becomes this like??? cold-blooded murderer on a revenge mission??? LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN I am. SUCH a lover stories where a character loses/sacrifices everything about their personality to become what they think everyone wants them to be. THIS IS THAT STORY. and then when Raph and Leo realize what's happened to Mikey and have no idea how to "fix" him??? THATS THE GOOD SHIT OH MY GOD. love this fic inject it straight into my veins. on fanfiction.net instead of ao3 (and sadly unfinished), but it's really good for Mikey angst :3

new tricks -> 2012, 3k one-shot, another one from fanfic.net! this one isn't angsty at all, just Mikey and Splinter hanging and bonding together :D I love it though, it's such a cute little fic and very comforting to read ahdhehfhehfhr

no one is alone -> rottmnt, 23k words currently! follows Mikey dealing with everyone's emotional shit after the events of the movie,,,, except his own obviously lmao so he turns to self-harm as a way to relieve stress and anxiety, eventually gets found out, anddddd his brothers help him through recovery :) it's currently unfinished but still being updated as far as I know, and if you want angst, there you go!

temporal differential -> 2012, 7k one-shot. follows Mikey getting stuck in Dimension X for a lot longer than he lets on, and losing hope of his brothers finding him. this one's part of a mini series that kinda revolves around Mikey's time there? and the aftermath? there's a ton of fics that follow this concept but this one isn't tagged very well and doesn't have a lot of hits, so there's a chance you haven't read it if you're looking for new Mikey angst fics to read! plus mikey gets to be smart :333

breakfast for sensei -> 2012, 6.5k one-shot. WHILE WE'RE ON THE TOPIC OF DIMENSION X. this one's about the aftermath!!! AND it has Mikey and Splinter bonding at 3am so I love it so so so dearly. Mikey struggles a lot with nightmares and insomnia after he gets stuck in Dimension X, and eventually opens up to Splinter about his time there and how LONG he was alone and gets some much-needed advice and love. good angst, good comfort, Splinter being a good dad, love love love this one. plus you get a free breakfast recipe! yay!

we'll burn them down -> 2012, 9k one-shot. OKAY LAST ONE ABOUT DIMENSION X I PROMISE. sunset duo focus-- Raph is the first one to figure out that something is off with Mikey, and he's gotta decide how to deal with it! Mikey gets to be a scary badass after surviving alone for so long, Raph gets to be a worried older brother, and Donnie,,,, gets to be there too i guess lmao like i said it's very much a sunset duo fic. enjoy the angst! the hurt/comfort! it's lovely!

empty canvas -> rottmnt, 43k words. I honestly don't remember a lot about this one, BUT Mikey basically takes Leo's place in the prison dimension after opening the portal to get him out?? very very angsty, lots of hurt Mikey! sadly it's unfinished (and it doesn't seem like it'll be updated anytime soon), but what's there definitely qualifies as Mikey angst if that's what you're looking for :) and ofc lots of worried older brothers, which I adore.

--and then ofc, I have a bunch of my own Mikey-centric fics here! I've really only written for Rise so far, but I'm dedicated to mikey angst o7

and like I said, I also have a whole collection on ao3 dedicated just to my favorite TMNT fics! there's genuinely SO MANY MORE I could recommend, but I tried to stick to ones that are older/don't have as many hits?? Kinda?

The rest of my recs would be in this collection! Most are Mikey-centric, but there's a few in there for the other boys too:

for my rottmnt hyperfix | Archive of Our Own

I should warn you though-- I didn't have my collection moderated originally, so people could add their own fics to the collection if they wanted! but then some weirdo Tc*ster ended up adding their shit to it, and I'm pretty sure there's at LEAST one tc*st fic in there somewhere. I've locked it down since then and don't allow outside contributions anymore, but you might wanna filter those tags out :( I contacted ao3 about removing those fics but I never heard anything back. just a warning!!

anyway. hopefully this is helpful for the, like, five people who ALSO feel like they've read every single Mikey fic in existence lmao

[blamemma]

sorry for the grim vibes i brought to the dash this evening x

for whatever it's worth, i'll happily hold my hands up and apologise if my post felt pointed or aggressive. i'm sorry, if it made anyone sad or dismayed. like i said in that original, now deleted post, my feelings towards daniel have been complicated this past month. not going to get into the nitty gritty, but it's been weird no longer finding comfort in someone you once so easily used to find comfort within. i can't be here, because daniel doesn't bring me the joy i once felt. i see you all tagging new photos of him delightedly and i feel nothing. so maybe, me making that post was bitterness, retaliation, or idk what. but i do feel that way. i do feel like capitalism baby. but yeah, sorry for clicking post on that. because i acc don't wish for anyone to feel the way i do regarding daniel at the moment. what i do ask, is in the future, y'all act with nuance. don't react right away. it was kinda sad to see people i consider myself friends with, or friendly with at least, immediately go to bashing me. y'all could message me and go girl what kinda crazy take is that and i'd laugh. or go girl that's a little mean. kinda horrid to me just how quickly that all escalated. kinda horrid for me to look in my inbox and just see grim things. but i get it. i get it. it's calm it's cool. i'm gunna eat a sweet treat and be fine. and finally, i think maybe there was some misunderstanding when i said "we deserve something more". i know and respect that however hard we find this, daniel will find this much harder. we actually deserve nothing. he can take his time. 3 months 6 months 2 years whatever. or never. again, nuance missed by all, myself included. but yeah. idk. cool.

[demonic-shadowlucifer]

and you know what, since im here. can you people *please* stop tagging this as "proship". this post has *nothing* to do with being 'proship' or 'antiship' or even 'neutralship'. this was literally just a post telling people to not harass others. not every anti-harassment post is 'proship' related. also, i don't want to be associated with either group (proship or anti). and it makes me genuinely uncomfortable to be labeled as either group (especially considering i myself experienced harassment from proshippers in the past). i'll be blocking anyone that does this going forward.

thanks!

Things to do instead of sending people harassment/threats or suibait.

(PT: Things to do instead of sending people harassment/threats or suibait). ...because APPARENTLY we fucking need this post

-Block the person you're so angry at. -Scroll by the post that made you angry. -Log off the internet for a while. -Ask yourself why you think harassing people is okay. -Block them. -Grab a journal and write down what you were going to say and then block the person who pissed you off. -Did I mention blocking them yet? "But Shadow! This person sent ME that shit first! It's only fair" No it isn't. In that case you: -Block them. -Report them (if it's an anon ask though, just block. i don't think there's a way to report anons). "But Shadow! This person is a TERF/exclusionist/queerphobe! They deserve to be harassed!" -Block them. -Send them resources (no guarantee they'll listen but worth a try). -Report them if they're posting violent shit. "But Shadow! This person is a radqueer/MAP" -Again. *BLOCK* them. -Report them if they're posting really vile shit. -Redirect them to self-help resources (Yes, there's actually resources for those with paraphillias, including the big 3). "But Shadow! This person's racist/ableist/misogynistic!" -Check if they're being purposefully racist/ableist/misogynistic, if not, KINDLY ask them to maybe not do that™️ -If yes, block or report if needed. -Send resources (Again, no guarantee they'll listen)

notice how it's actually not hard to send people death threats or suibait or insults or-