#hope you’re having a lovely day my friend!

[tomsparkyr]

𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐅𝐋𝐘!

following episode one of 'inside' — george clarke x fem!reader

by any means i do not own 'inside' and all credit is theirs (!!)

wc: 6.4K

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You sat yourself down on the chair placed in the middle of the room, a soft blue and purple light flooding the area. You smiled at the camera in front of you, feeling a little bit nervous at the entire concept of the show; but nonetheless, you still agreed to contribute to it.

It was difficult not to tell your friends about the whole thing, sworn (and to a contract) that you weren���t allowed to tell them you were entering a home with no outside contact for 7 days; only allowed to tell them you were taking a social media break.

Your family knew, obviously. But unable to tell your fellow youtuber friends was tough, because it was so painfully obvious where you were going.

Having to lie to George, Chris and everyone else was awkward. They had arranged plans for the next week and you had to reluctantly say no, because of course, you would much rather be stuck in a home with people you don’t know and then spending money that could potentially be yours.

Clearing your throat, you introduced yourself.

”Hello, my name is Y/N, I’m 24 and I’m a youtuber slash content creator!” You grinned expectantly at the camera.

Continuing, “Most of my content is just… me and my friends getting drunk and filming it because we think we’re funny!” You answered honestly, thinking back on the many times you got too drunk filming pub golf videos that George had to give you a piggy-back on the walk home.

The camera crew asked you how well you think you’re going to do in the challenge,

“I’d like to think I’ll do well, honestly!” You laughed.

”I spend money but I don’t spend so much at a time; like I could go weeks without buying something, then suddenly I’m a couple hundred quid down within a week?”

You continued, “I think I can go without my phone for a week; I’d like to think I’m not that addicted.” You laughed and cringed slightly.

”If anything I think I’ll miss my friends more than anything. I’m sure I’ll love the people there but it’s meeting new faces, I’d just love to walk in there now and see someone I know— My dog! That’s it, I’ll miss my dog this most!” You interrupted yourself, losing your train of thought.

The camera crew laughed at you and pushed the interest about your dog back home, “I just hope she’s being looked after. I’ve left her with George for the week so I think she’ll live?” You laughed nervously.

Upon this, the camera crew behind the device smirked and tilted their heads downwards so you couldn’t see their face. A couple of them turned around and subtly nudged each other.

It was at this point that the crew said that your interview was over and that it was time to enter the place you’ll be living in for the next week.

You nervously picked up your suitcase, clinging onto your comfort pillow in your right arm and hugging it tight to your chest. You couldn’t remember if you could take this into the house but taking no risks, you took it anyway.

You entered a white room with zero life in it; a metal detector gate stood in the centre of the room and a hole to put your luggage in.

”Oh, God.” You muttered under your breath as you realised there was no turning back now.

You paused for a second and scanned the area before realising it was just you in here, “Oh, I’m by myself… that’s embarrassing.” You laughed at yourself, knowing your friends at home were going to be making fun of you when this aired.

Walking through the metal detector, you lugged your suitcase behind you and only just recognised that you might have overpacked for a place that would not utilise your items in absolutely any way.

After putting your suitcase on the conveyor, you walked through to the main area in which you could hear some voices, none of which you could distinguish.

Walking through the empty hallway, you called out “Hello?”

Upon saying this, two heads poked out and their eyes widened at the sight of you.

The girl ran over to you and embraced you into a hug and introduced herself, “Hey, I’m Mya!” She smiled at you as you responded; she was happy there was another girl in the house with her already.

Meanwhile, the man who had seen you first turned his attention to the other male in the house as you and Mya embraced; “Yo, George, isn’t that your girlfriend?”

George furrowed his brows, a bit taken aback “My what?” He laughed a bit as his feet took him towards the hallway to peek at the new arrival; who was supposedly his girlfriend?

Pulling back from Mya’s hug, you made direct eye-contact with George, your best friend, standing a couple feet away from you. “What the fuck?” You shouted and broke out into a sprint towards him, him already on route to you.

”No way!” He shouted back and caught your figure into a tight hug, his arms wrapped comfortably around your waist and lifted you off the ground slightly as he buried his face into your neck amidst the hug.

You slung your arms around his broad shoulders and fell into the all too familiar embrace, catching his scent and subtly running your hands through the hair on the back of his head.

”Why didn’t you tell me you were coming in here?” He chuckled, his voice muffled as his head was tucked into your neck; he had settled you down onto the floor now but didn’t falter his grip by any means.

You laughed back at him, pulling your head away so you could maintain eye-contact with him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” You retorted jokingly.

PK looked confused, “So they are boyfriend and girlfriend then?” Mya laughed at him, knowing the extent that you and George got shipped on Tiktok, the occasional edit finding itself on everyone’s for you page.

You and George turned back to look at PK,“No, no! George is my best friend!” You smiled at him, still in disbelief that George was actually here; “Half my videos are just with her.” George finished for you.

PK tilted his head, pointing between you two in which at the time you realised George’s hands were still resting on your waist while yours were cradling the back of his neck.

Confused (still), PK shook his head and waved his hand in dismissal, completely convinced that he was looking at a couple in front of him.

As more people entered one by one, you and George dispersed from the group, his arm slung around your shoulders and keeping you against him the entire time.

You shook your head and looked up at him with a smile, “What are you even doing here?”

George smiled down at you as you settled themselves down on the sofa in the living room.

“Dunno, the Sidemen like me so I thought, why not?” He laughed at himself, you scooted closer to him as he picked up a cushion to set it down on yours and his lap.

He nudged you, “What about you, you little minx, how did you keep that a secret from me?”

You smirked and fiddled with the loose threads on the cushion.

”I didn’t tell anyone!” You admitted, “Not you, not Chris, not Arthur; I told no one! Not even— Wait…” You trailed off, eyes widening.

”George, who’s looking after my dog?” You said, fear flooding your features.

George laughed and threw his head back, a hand rubbing up and down your shoulder as you persisted on the whereabouts of your dog.

”She’s living with Chris and Arthur for the week.” He reassured you, an obvious relief washing over you as your shoulders fell from a hunched position.

In your own little world, you and George nattered away to each other, updating him on everything he’s missed and completely ignorant to the new members joining the house; because you were all too consumed with each other.

George just knew at that moment that when this aired, Chris was going to rip into the way he was staring at his ‘best friend’.

A shouting voice tore you out of your George-infused daze as it was directed at you two, “Wait, you’re that couple that’s always edited on my for you page?”

The blonde girl next to her snapped her head around to the pair of you sitting with George’s arm still around you, her eyes widening, “Holy shit! I love you two!”

George’s cheeks suddenly were painted a pink colour and you sported a flushed face. An awkward laugh bubbled from your chest, “What?”

Upon seeing your awkward faces and red creeping up your necks, the blonde girl covered her mouth and apologised, “Oh fuck! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

You stood up and left George’s touch, walking over to the girl with a comforting smile on your face.

“Don’t worry! Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.” You said as you raised your arms out for a hug.

She met you halfway as she responded,“Ugh, you’re gorgeous. I’m Milli.” She smiled sweetly at you, peering over her shoulder to see the other girl still gawking at you.

The louder one strutted over and immediately pulled you into a hug, “I’m Farah, who is sorry about—“ “Oh, God. Don’t even worry about it!” You reassured the girl, finding it quite amusing that you and George had crept your ways onto other people’s for you page.

time skip!

The bedroom situation was the next challenge.

After introducing yourself to everyone (they acted as if they didn’t know who you were, but they had all seen the George x Y/N edits) you all made your way over to the bedrooms, some even breaking out into a sprint.

A couple people jumped onto their beds, claiming it as their own. There were two double beds and the rest were singles, but because there were only 10 people at the time, sharing a double bed wouldn’t be an issue at the moment.

George leaped onto one bed and said sarcastically, “Oh my God, guys, stop fighting over my bed!” You laughed at him and slowly sat down on the one remaining bed next to his.

You crawled onto your bed after readjusting the pillows against the headboard so you could sit up comfortably, leaning back and allowing your eyes to close momentarily.

It wasn’t until you felt a nudge on your shin that you opened your eyes and saw a George Clarke resting on his stomach, a pillow squished between his chest and the bed, his beaming smile staring at you.

You tilted your head at him and smiled softly, lightly kicking your foot back at him as his hand lingered on your leg; the rest of the room became a blur as he kept looking at you.

Sending a quick wink your way, he hoisted himself up off the bed and gestured a hand out to you. You took it as he helped you onto your feet, so the group could walk back into the living room per producers request.

The group all positioned themselves on the couch, George settling down on the end as you squeezed between him and Mandi. With little spare room on the couch, George carefully lifted your leg so it was led over his thigh and his hand rested comfortably on your knee. Opposite you, Whitney grinned at the action.

George was fiddling with his bottle as the group conversed, “So, Y/N what do you do?” Cinna asked you.

Hearing your name, you perked up. “I mainly do YouTube videos with this weirdo here.” You pointed a thumb George’s way.

The group laughed at you and took careful notice at your closeness with George. “And George, what do you do?” She continued.

George tilted his head, “I started on TikTok.” He trailed off as Whitney butted in. “Do you talk on TikTok?”

“Yeah.” George responded. Whitney persisted, “Why not in real life?” You furrowed your brows at this. George, oblivious to her, said “Should I stop?” as he pointed at himself jokingly.

“But you don’t talk in real life! I’m like “George…” Whitney said. She was then interrupted by the Sidemen walking in, smug smirks tugging on their face.

You and George smiled at the familiar faces, previously being in Sidemen videos in the past. You took notice that George’s mood had picked up more now he knew more than one person, becoming more comfortable in the odd place he was confined in.

JJ began for the group, “Welcome to the new series of Inside!” 

The group whooped and cheered at this. Everyone was excited at the prospect of winning a million pounds.

The Sidemen began listing off the rules and concept of Inside, everyone nodding along and the occasional verbal reaction. 

Harry pointed at you and the group, “You’ll be glad to know, the shop is now open!” You and Farah made eye-contact and started jumping up to run to the shop as a joke, the group laughing at the pair of you.

JJ said one last thing before everyone bid their goodbyes to the Sidemen, “Good luck, motherfuckers!”

You all clapped and half heartedly cheered, more nervous than excited at this rate because the money you could win was in the hands of everyone else.

Farah quickly asked as they were leaving, “Wait, can I ask? When is the first challenge?”

“Shut up.”

time skip!

The group all discussed that you wanted to keep the prize money at least 800K, agreeing with a ‘hands in the middle’ before you all jogged down to the shop.

As you entered, half the group were already in there and complaining about the lack of choices they could purchase, Milli however wasn’t upset about the prices at this point.

You and George lurked at the back, shoulder to shoulder and laughed at Mandi as she stood up to the camera asking about the whereabouts of her vodka.

As a quarter of the group decided on food and drinks as the first purchase before you butted in with a suggestion, “Wait, surely we should get some entertainment first, just so we don’t all want to die on the first day?”

George, Dylan and Milli pointed at you, nodding and verbalising their agreement. Milli grabbed your upper arm and took you both to the camera to confirm your order.

“I’ll say table tennis bat and you’ll say table tennis ball, right?” You asked her, she smiled as you both poked your head up to the camera and held your microphone to your mouth.

“Can I confirm the table tennis bat,” “And the table tennis ball, please?” You and Milli spoke, giggling at each other after as you made eye-contact.

You distanced yourself from the group and they began talking louder and speaking over each other, finding yourself settled next to George who had barely spoken outside of you since being in here.

Looking at the list of items, you nudged George, “What the fuck is a ‘golden straw’?” You laughed and furrowed your brows.

You saw his eyes scan the list and chuckle at the item considering its price, “That’s actually a stupid price.” He thought out loud.

“I swear if anyone buys that shit…” You closed your eyes and shook your head, sneaking your arms around him so you could link arms.

The door suddenly opened to reveal the items you and Milli had bought. She turned around and called your name to come over to her. You walked over and tugged George close along behind you.

You saw Milli’s shoulder drop and she leaned down to pick the item up, “What?” You questioned. She turned around and lifted up the one tennis bat.

“No!” You gasped and tightened your grip on George’s arm. “Is it one?” He asked, dreading the worst after your reaction.

“It’s one!” Milli confirmed your suspicions. You groaned, cursing out the Sidemen as everyone around out kept bickering. You watched as Dylan walked back to the camera.

“I’m confirming that you did scam us with that one, I’m not going to lie. So we are ordering one more bat.” He purchased the other bat.

You turned around to face George, smiling up at him as his figure towered over you. “I’m gonna kick your ass at table tennis.” You promised to him and yourself. Laughing at you, he drifted his hands down to rest on your hips, “Best out of three; guaranteed I’m gonna win all three.” He replied smuggly, looking down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Not bothering to listen to everyone talk about eating arrangements, you yanked George’s arm and the pair of you ran back to the living room, table tennis bats in hands and laughing in joy. Even in a confined house with 10 other people, you found George attached to you as if it was only the pair of you; no one else mattered except for him.

George walked around the table, shoving you lightly before the game started in an attempt to throw you off. You cleared your throat, “This is a practice round, no cheating and no foul play!”

“You’re only saying it’s a practice round so you’re not embarrassed when I kick your ass.” George winked at you and threw the table tennis ball down onto the table.

You heard a playful gag next to you, “Ew, guys stop flirting!” Cinna stated sarcastically. You and George only laughed and began playing against each other.

George played against you for a couple rounds, the game going back and forth a handful of times. Eventually, after a good 15 minutes, you beat George in a tight game. George only shrugged and walked backwards to sit on the couch, leaning his body back and relaxing for the first time since walking in here.

You tilted your head and called Dylan up to play against you, still high on adrenaline. “Dylan, come play the reigning champion!”

Hearing this, George’s head popped up with furrowed brows. “What? I thought you said it was a practice round?” He asked in mock offence.

You shrugged, “Yeah it was… until I beat you.” George suppressed a laugh into a groan and rolled his head back as you shot him a sickeningly sweet smile; knowing he had been caught out by you once again (not that he did anything to stop it).

interview room!

“I mean, I think I’ve started off decently. Barely spent money so far, but I haven’t been down there since I got the table tennis stuff.”

“I mean, I don’t really care about winning now that I’ve beaten George in table tennis! I’ve known him for years, played against him thousands of times and now suddenly hours into my new home for the week and straight off the bat I’ve already taken the win”

“My main concern right now is that I’m so hungry. And I know the meals are gonna be shit, but honestly, I could take anything right now!”

After gossiping about the whole pot noodle fiasco, an alert came up on the screen: ‘Lunch is now ready to collect from the shop’.

“Oh, thank God.” You groaned, feeling the effects of a constant rumbling stomach taking a toll on you. George, who was sitting opposite you looked puzzled and partially offended, “You’re taking the piss. Lunch?”

Leading the pack down to the shop, you skipped down to the final step and came face to face with an open trap door and met some… unpleasant food. Picking up two of the pots, you inspected the food.

George creeped in behind you and peered over your shoulder. Upon seeing his presence, you passed him his meal and stiffled a laugh at his scrunched up nose and face of disgust.

Grabbing a spoon, you opened the pot and attempted not to be put off it immediately. You watched Mandi verbally express her utter hatred towards the food; placing a hand on her shoulder, you urged her to try a bit before she opted out. “Hey, Mandi. Just try a little before--”

“Can I confirm an upgrade, please?” You sighed as she ignored you. Feeling awkward now, George wrapped his arm around its usual spot on your shoulder and tugged you against him, whispering in your ear not to worry about it; unbeknownst that the cameras can see and hear everything.

The pair of you walked away from the chaos of buying upgrades, chatting to each other and sitting back down onto the couch.

Cinna watched you and walked up to you, “Come with me to get the rest?” She urged, knowing many people had left scraps of food down in the shop and was aware of your hunger earlier on.

You smiled at her and left George’s touch, him frowning slightly. You followed side by side with Cinna, strutting into the shop and splitting the weight of the spare food between the two of you.

As you began walking away, you spotted something shiny left in the shop.

“No fucking way.” You murmered, now having personal issues with this goddamned straw. Cinna turned around at your words, eyes widening and walking over to pick up the straw.

“Is there a golden straw in there? Did they leave it?” She questioned no one in particular.

You threw the straw a rude face, “That shit cost fucking £2,500?” You shook your head, already having some suspects on who bought it.

Snatching the straw off her, you stormed ahead to the living room to ask some very needed questions; Cinna laughing at you as she trailed behind, finding your beef with the straw hilarious.

“Who bought this?” You spoke loudly as you entered the room, watching George on the beanbag throw his head back in mock frustration, murmuring some swear words in the wake.

Cinna walked in and made a bee-line for Mandi, “It was you, wasn’t it?” Mandi’s lack of an answer told you the whole story.

Passing the straw to Mandi, you felt a hand brush yourself and looked down to George playing with your fingers as he remained seated, his eyes watching the conversations rather than you. You suppressed a smile at this and tried to fight back a blush from creeping onto your face.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as the voice of Tobi rang around the house, “It’s time for your first challenge.”

time skip!

Finally, it was you and George remaining; neither of you had been selected to compete in Insider Dating (a part of you felt like they set you two up on purpose, but by no means were you complaining).

“And lastly… George? Y/N?” Simon smirked, holding his card close to his chest.

The group whooped and cheered as the pair of you stood up, even JJ was jeering you on. Tobi leaned in to whisper something in his ear, and JJ let out his gawking laugh in response. You groaned, fully aware it was something revolving between you and George.

George sat down opposite you, a worried grin painted on his face as you sucked in a deep breath, picking up the menu in front of you.

“For not the first restaurant date for these two,” Simon started, smirking as he watched both of your faces grow a shade darker and keeping your heads down low. Some of the other contestants let out a wolf-whistle and slammed the table as they laughed at Simon’s joke. “On the menu for you two is Shocking Questions.”

As you inspected the menu more, confused on what was happening, George had already figured it out. He looked at the Sidemen for confirmation and said, “Oh.” You looked up at him, hoping he wouldn’t see your blush. “What’s that?”

“We’ll be getting shocked.” He said with a lack of enthusiasm. You closed your eyes and sighed, nervous about both the questions and being shocked; but remaining determined that you wouldn’t press the red buzzer.

Simon started, “Okay, George. You’ll be answering the questions first, so, Y/N, please ask the first question.”

You took a deep breath, inspecting the question before looking up at George and asking him, “What is your worst online dating experience?”

Unsure when to start, George looked around him and then at the camera, “Okay, um…”

He placed his hands on the table in front of him, “I matched with somebody on--” He cut himself off as an electric jolt sent his body forwards as he groaned in pain. You covered your mouth in shock and offered a hand out on the table for him to grip onto for comfort.

Taking your hand very quickly he continued, “That’s a lot of power. Um. I matched with somebody on Hinge, and I was speaking to them for about two days. Voice notes back and forth, it was fun. And then--”

Another jolt came through and he squeezed your hand hard, cursing out in the meantime, “Oh, God! I’m sorry, Y/N!” You shook your head and reassured him, “No, no! Keep going, you’re doing great!” The contestants laughed at you as you attempted to comfort George as more jolts came through.

“Fucking hell. Um, then I tried to meet up with them, but it turns out they weren’t real. I was there for an hour and a half.” You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his story, focusing on him and keeping eye-contact with him to try and urge him through this. Also thinking at the same time, if his questions were bad, think of the masacre for you.

“I came back home, reverse Google Image searched them--” George’s body locking up in pain from the electric, “And they weren’t real. Fucking hell, that’s a lot!” He groaned, still squeezing your hand across the table.

Simon urged you to ask the next question, “Could we please have the second question?”

Your eyes widened at the question and George felt more jolts come through, “Oh, my God, please, can we make it a quick one?” He begged, playing with your fingers and cracking your knuckles as a way to distract himself from the pain. “Oh, my God. That was actually quite bad.”

You began starting the next question, interrupted by George burying his head into his bicep and groaning out, “Fuck!”

“If you had to snog, marry and avoid three Insiders, who and why?” You stared into his eyes as a faint pink sprinkled his cheeks; you couldn’t decipher whether that was out of pain or embarrassment of the question.

George pulled a shocked yet puzzled face, “I don’t fucking know!” 

PK from the side shouted out, “Yes, you fucking do!” while pointing your way; you were unable to see this as your eyes were trained on George in front of you.

“Both genders?” George joked to try and diffuse the situation, making the Sidemen laugh as jolts of electricity came through more frequently and painfully.

George shook his head and gestured towards you, “Snog you, avoid Farah,” He turned around to face her and sent an apologetic look her way, “Sorry, you’re quite loud!” The rest of the group laughed as he turned back to you, “And marry Y/N!”

The group, including the Sidemen all screamed and pointed accusing fingers at George, while you sat with a mouth open and a surely bright red face by now. “You said Y/N twice!” Simon raised his brows and shouted at the man. “You can’t pick the same person twice!” JJ laughed.

George’s eyes widened as he realised what he did, “Shit! I meant marry Y/N, snog Y/N-- Shit!” He cursed as another jolt came through and stumbled over his words, “Fuck! No! Snog Mya!”

Everyone, including you laughed at him as Simon now approved the answer, and George’s grip on your hand faltered and he hid his face on the table, embarrassed beyond belief.

Some of the girls awed at his answer as the chaos had only just settled down, the focus turning on to you (as if it wasn’t already).

You rolled your head back in an attempt to release some nerves but failed to do so. You swallowed hard and looked in front of you to see George, now sat upright, staring at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t decipher.

Looking down at the table, you saw George’s extended hand open for you, “Tit for tat?” He tilted his head, smiling at you as you accepted it, your palm brushing his. He took a deep breath as his heart jumped a little bit at the intimate moment shared in front of everyone and dozens of cameras.

Simon perked up again, “George, could you please ask the first question?” 

George looked down at the question sheet, eyes widening at the second question in particular, but chose to tackle that situation when he got there.

“Y/N,” You were waiting for the first shock but it hasn't come yet, “Why did you break up with your last boyfriend?” George asked.

Your mouth dropped open in shock, “Oh, God. Alright, so basically--” You screamed as the first shock came through and your body jolted forward in a much similar fashion as George’s previously had. You gripped his hand hard, feeling bad that you could potentially be hurting him in the process.

“You’ve got it, you’ve got it.” George encouraged you, a soft smile etched across his face.

“Shit! Okay--” Another shock going up your spine, painful but quick, “He said I was in-- Fuck!” More and more shocks came through. You understood you would have to rush this answer because there was no way you could get through it at this rate.

“He said I was in love with someone else apparently, so he-- Shitting Hell!” You gripped George’s hand. “So he cheated on me and I snitched on him to his mother!” You blurted out, hearing the loud laughter from the contestants and the Sidemen around you, even George was trying and failing to suppress a laugh.

JJ’s laugh stood out from everyone elses, “Damn Y/N! We’ll take that. George, next question?”

George’s smile fell slightly, “Right, Y/N…” Your body jolted forward in pain, “Shit! George, I love you but please hurry up!” The group laughed at your reaction.

“Okay! Okay! Y/N explain the story of your first kiss.” His voice faltered towards the end, heart thumping in his chest as your face paled.

Your eyes widened and you shook your head rapidly, “No! No! I can’t say that!” Tobi butted in, “Answer or lose 10K!”

A horrendous jolt of electricity went through your body and your hand held George’s while the other bunched up the cloth of the table as you squeezed it.

“Tell us, Y/N!” You heard other contestants shout at you. Milli shouted, “Come on, Y/N! You can do it!”

You tossed your head back, “Fuck! Okay! So basically, we were younger and neither of us-- Shit!” 

“Neither of us had had our first kiss yet, so we--” You groaned, head now falling forwards as your hair covered your face slightly. George leaned over and brushed it away, tucking it behind your ears. 

“Push the button, Y/N!” JJ urged. “Fuck off!” You screamed back, some of the group crying with laughter and standing up in doing so.

“We played odds on that we had to kiss right then and there! That’s it! Please turn this fucking thing off!” You begged, feeling sweat drip from your forehead now.

However, Simon decided to alter the rules of the game.

“Y/N, we’re not accepting that until you tell us who it was with.”

Your eyes bulged out of their head as the screaming around you ensured, George falling unusually quiet compared to everyone else as his gaze remained locked on you.

“What the fuck? That’s not-- Oh, God!” You groaned, “That’s not fair!”

JJ and Tobi just laughed, “Just tell us!”

You shook your head rapidly, “No fucking way!”

“Say it!” They screamed.

“No!” You responded with the same energy.

“You’re not leaving until you tell--”

“George!”

Everyone around you jumped up in shock and amusement, smacking the table laughing and pointing fingers at you and George.

George’s mouth also dropped open in shock as he didn’t think you would actually admit to it, blush coating his neck and cheeks as everyone was looking at you two and that you had exposed your deepest secret.

Your body relaxed as the shocks stopped but you didn’t necessarily win; sure, not losing 10K is great, but now on day one of your new home, everyone would talk about you and George, definitely not helping your case that you’re not dating.

Simon removed his hand from covering his mouth in shock, “Well… I guess you passed.” He didn’t know what to say, no one did really; everyone was just screaming incoherent words in disbelief of this entire situation.

You had never wanted to hear the words of Tobi more in your entire life, “Insiders, you have completed your first challenge of the series.”

time skip!

After a long first day, you had settled yourself down onto the couch in the living room. Led down, you sported George’s hoodie as he found himself back at the table tennis court; this time battling against PK. Blocking everyone out, you drift off for your much needed nap.

As George played against PK, the new contestant DDG had some questions.

“I didn’t know the Sidemen let couples on here.” He thought out loud, catching everyone in the room's attention. They looked at him with tilted heads. “Who’s the couple?” Cinna asked.

DDG pointed a thumb in your direction as you laid unconscious on the couch, “That’s your girl, right?” He nodded towards George.

George chuckled and looked down, “Yeah, George. How’s your girl?” PK teased.

Shaking his head, George served the tennis ball nonchalantly, “She’s just my friend.” He didn’t know who he was trying to prove, himself or those around him.

Dylan butted in, “Oh yeah, I just kiss my best friends every now and then.”

Without looking at them, George continued, “Ah! I was her first kiss, that doesn’t mean we just kiss every now and then.”

“Bet you’d like that, huh?” PK laughed. In mock retaliation, George served a harsh ball his way, the mini group laughing at him.

DDG looked between you on the couch and George standing to his right, “Hold up… you’re not dating her?” George shook his head.

He raised his brows, “For real, man?”

George slowly nodded, “For real.” He sounded partially disappointed but masked it as he continued playing table tennis.

time skip!

You found yourself standing in the shop alone, inspecting the items as you were yet to purchase anything for yourself, excluding the singular tennis bat earlier. You heard someone creeping up behind you.

“What are you thinking about, beautiful?” George whispered from beind you, crouching down slightly so he could reach your height. You leaned back into him and his hands wrapped around your waist.

“Why the fuck do I want that jiggly ball so bad?” You thought out loud. George responded with a loud gawking laugh, stumbling back a bit and bringing you with him.

You turned around and slapped his chest, “No, George! It’s not funny! Why does every part of me need that jiggly ball?”

He looked down at you with a suggestive eyebrow raise, your face fell as you understood what he was insinuating. “Oh, shut up!”

Laughing, you held his hand and walked out of the shop together. You settled on the couch again after your nap, reintroducing yourself Patrice as the last time you saw him was when you were half-asleep.

A couple of minutes later, you heard your name being whispered at the door. Standing up, you followed the noise and was met with George suppressing a wild grin and something stuffed up his shirt. “Oh, God. What did you do?” You smiled.

George leaned down and dragged the pair of you into the corner of the room, “I might have suggested that Farah get something for you.” Your eyes sparkled in excitement.

“No, you didn’t…” You mumbled. 

It was then that George whipped out the bright purple and blue jiggly ball from underneath his shirt, handing it to you and bouncing it between his hands in the process, giggling in excitement. “Oh, my God!” You squealed.

You took the ball from him and played with it for a moment before looking up to see George already staring at you. You shook your head, smiling at him, “Thank you!” 

You pulled him into a crushing hug, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground, swaying the pair of you back and forth slightly. He placed you back down as you seperated from the hug, hands remaining on your waist as you stared at each other, not breaking eye-contact. 

Neither of you said anything to each other, but your eyes said so much more. The hand that wasn’t holding the ball reached up to his face and urged him to tilt his head to the side, before you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Pulling away from your peck, you smiled at him and backed away slightly. You tossed the ball so it hit his forehead lightly and bounced back into your hands, “I’ll see you later.” You bit your lip to keep your smile from growing.

Walking away, you didn’t notice that George watched you as you went; a hand pressed up against his cheek where you had kissed him, only hoping it was closer to his lips.

As bedtime rolled around, you situated yourself in your bed next to George’s. You rested on the side facing him, finding him doing the same and could recognise his beaming smile even in the darkness.

You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as the tiredness took a toll on you. You let your hand flop off the side of your bed, not thinking too much of it.

Then, you felt a soft brush against your hand and looked down at it, seeing George’s hand lacing his fingers with yours as his hand was stretched off his own bed. Leaning off the side of his bed, George pressed a soft kiss onto the back of your hand, signaling a sweet ‘goodnight’ to you before the pair of you dozed off.

Maybe this weird, confined lifestyle where everything was overpriced and challenges determined your mood for that day wasn’t too bad. But maybe, it was rather the person holding your hand that could help you tolerate this.

taglist (ps love u all):

@sidemenslver @wherethezoes-at @multifanxtvshows @bibissparkles @le-le-lea @tiamonetsworld @dopeysunflowers @viagracex @rebeccaw05-blog @sundarksposts @sabbrriiinnaa @lovingaphroditesworld @evisceratedmuke @youtubewag @happyclifford @liz140569 @addiemb8332 @isabellem2909 @madforgeorge @pookietv @iammyownselfdestruction @marijas-stuff @maggie-readss @bambidollstar @lottiewills @hollie911

[moonstruckme]

MAAAAEEEEE I was wondering if I could request a Peter Parker fic where he just kind of adopts shy!reader without her consent like “yeah we’re friends now, we spend time together and also we’re probably gonna fall in love and date but why don’t we just start with me walking you home from class” or some such nonsense. Also wondering if you could keep his spidey-powers; I love that little mutant freak

I hate you for doing this to me

Ugh our mutant freak <3 Thanks for the request babe!

tasm!Peter Parker x shy!reader ♡ 920 words

You’re never alone on the way home from class anymore. You’re not sure what changed at the start of the spring semester, if you just started putting out helpless-pedestrian energy or if it was something else, but soon after the start of classes your walks home from your night class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday began being accompanied by none other than Spider-Man. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, it’s Peter. 

You and Peter have molecular biology together. On the first day of class, he rushed in just as your professor started lecturing. Every seat was full except the one next to you, and when you offered it to him silently with a nod of your head, Peter looked so relieved you’d think you handed him an A in the class. He’s been glommed onto your ever since; some days he asks you to stop for coffee after class, some days he offers to study with you in the library, and he always walks you home. You don’t know what you did to deserve the company, but you appreciate it. 

“You ever been there?” Peter asks, nodding to a stand advertising New York City’s Best Vegan Hot-Dogs. 

“No,” you say.

“Well, seems like we’ve gotta try them at some point. I mean, they’re the best in New York.” 

A smile tugs at your lips. Peter’s always doing that. Making plans, saying we. It’s like the idea of you two hanging out beyond the end of your class is a foregone conclusion in his head. You haven’t been able to figure out if that’s just the way Peter talks or if he means it. You hope it’s the latter. 

“You think so?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Peter says with affected certainty. “I mean, why would you doubt the sign? Everyone knows you have to get things like that certified.” 

You glance up at Peter, but one look into his smiling eyes is too much for you. You have to turn your face away. “I’m pretty sure there are three #1 Indian Restaurants in my neighborhood.” 

“Oof. Must make for some brutal decisions when you’re craving Indian.” 

Two weeks ago, you offered to buy Spider-Man dinner for walking you home. It was stupid—he can’t eat through the mask, which he told you kindly and which you could have figured out if you thought about it for more than a second before opening your mouth—but you were feeling guilty about stopping to pick up takeout and indebted for all the time he spends walking you home instead of preventing mob activity or whatever Spider-Man does. He professed, upon smelling your takeout, that Indian food is one of his favorites, too. 

You haven’t told Peter about your vigilante escort. Spider-Man never comes to you while Peter’s around—presumably because you don’t need his help if you’ve already got a companion—and it’s the sort of ridiculous story you know will sound made up out loud. Why do you know that Spider-Man likes matar paneer? What makes you so special? They’re unanswerable questions, and you’d never be able to look at Peter again if he laughed at you. 

“Hey.” Peter bumps your hip with his. You go stiff at the contact. “You okay?” 

“Hm?” You look up, and he’s watching you with concern. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“You seem a little quiet,” he says. And when your face heats, “Well, quieter than usual.” 

“Sorry,” you say again, embarrassed. “I think I’m just tired.” 

“Oh, yeah? Class was a long one, huh?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That makes sense.” Peter sounds disappointed. You blink at him in confusion, and he almost winces. “I don’t suppose…I mean, if you just want to get home I get that, but I was wondering if you wanted to grab food? With me?” 

Your steps stutter. It’s not that you and Peter have never hung out before. Or even that all the time you’ve spent together centers wholly around class—there have been coffees, chats in the hallway, walks in the park near your university building—but it’s something about the way he asks, like it’s important this time, like it means something. You want for it to mean something. 

“I could still grab food.” You’re not quite looking at him, fiddling with the contents of your jacket pocket. Popping the lid to your chapstick on and off. 

“Yeah?” Peter asks hopefully. 

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Mhm.” 

His voice softens, a smile in it. “Could you look at me, maybe?” 

You glance up, regretting it instantly as always. Peter is resplendent. Dimples framing his smile like parenthesis, hair mussed by the wind that beats at you while crossing every street, he’s the sort of handsome that’s only just starting to figure out how handsome he is. You think you probably make it easier for him. To figure it out. 

“Do you really want to,” he asks in a sincere tone, “or are you just appeasing me? If you’re tired I can take you straight to your place.” 

Your heart thudders. If you have to look at him for much longer you worry you’ll melt into the cracks of the pavement. “I want to,” you say. “I’m sort of hungry, too.” 

“Okay, awesome.” He sounds happy again. You think if you were lucky, that’d be the only thing you were put on Earth to do, make Peter happy. “Maybe we could try one of those Indian places near yours? See who’s really number one.” 

“Sure.” You smile up at him, brain buzzing when Peter beams back. 

“Sick! I could really go for some matar paneer.” 

[neeeooon]

Hellooo! It's my first time ever asking a request like this 😅 Could you write headcannons for blue lock boys, how they would react to when "bridesmaids giving the groom sexy Polaroids of the bride throughout the night" like the trend in tiktok!! I'm curious about Barou, reo, rin, and yukimiya 👀 but you are welcome to add others as well!! Hehehe thanks!!

YES i’m sorry for the wait I HOPE YOU ENJOY 🤍

when your bridesmaids give them sexy polaroids

husband bllk x fem!reader. suggestive

barou shouei

-> he’s breaking a sweat after photo two and loosening his tie by photo three

-> protects those half-naked photos of you like it’s his only duty on this earth. will bite anyone’s hand off if they so much as breathe in his direction when he receives another polaroid of you

-> when you waltz over to your new husband, wrapping yourself around him in newlywed glee, it takes more restraint than he’s used to to keep his hands from wandering. especially in front of your friends and family

-> “you know exactly what you’re doing to me with these little photos, don’t you?” you give him an innocent look and kiss the lobe of his ear. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.. ;)”

mikage reo

-> eyes threaten to pop out of his head when your bridesmaid subtly slides a polaroid in front of him. a polaroid of you in a very inappropriate manner

-> when he catches your eye and sees you wink, he knows he’s in for a treat

-> has half a mind to call the reception off early so he can have you all to himself, but this is your wedding night, and he wants it to be perfect for you

-> turns out, he’s not the only one thinking this way. when you appear at his side, dragging him to the parking lot like teenagers sneaking out, you tell him that you asked your bridesmaids to stall for the remainder of the party before locking the car doors and hopping into his lap

itoshi rin

-> you’re acting nonchalant, trying to feign innocence about the explicit photos you and your bridesmaids took for your husband, but he misunderstands your innocence as ignorance

-> gently pulls you aside after receiving the first photo. “y/n, i know you love your friends, but…” and he gives you the photo. “i don’t want vulnerable photos of you being spread around on our wedding day.”

-> you find his concern adorable and decorate his cheeks with lipstick-covered kisses. “aw, honey! it was a surprise gift for you, no one else has seen them.”

-> he flushes bright pink at that. “oh.” “thank you for protecting me, though.” “um, you’re welcome.”

yukimiya kenyu

-> it’s a slow descend into madness for gentlemanly yukimiya

-> literally chokes on his champagne when he receives the first polaroid from your bridesmaid. she hands it over so coyly, like she doesn’t know she’s holding his demise in her hands

-> he’s all tight smiles throughout the night. cannot keep his eyes to himself, and thankfully people think it’s only because he’s admiring his new wife. while that’s mostly true, he’s mentally mapping out the shape of you beneath that dress

-> “ken?” “hm? yeah?” you give his thigh a gentle squeeze beneath the table and lean close so that your lips are near his ear. “you’re staring.” “sorry, darling. it’s hard not to with those images of you printed in my brain.”

[gojosconsort]

loved ur older bf toji i need one for nanami RIGHT NEOW

OLDER BF!KENTO ♡ // HEADCANONS

⁀➷ CONTENT. you're kento’s sweet little controversial younger girlfirend.

♡ PAIRING. afab!reader x older bf!kento

♡ WARNINGS. mdni. age gap, bondage, fingering, spanking, oral sex, unprotected sex, deepthroating, rough sex, praise kink, size kink, cum, possessiveness, praise and degradation.

♡ AUTHOR’S NOTE. my frist request! hope you like it <3

older bf!kento who meets you at a quiet café where you’re a part-time barista, fumbling an order because you’re distracted by his looks (understandably). he tips generously, leaving a handwritten note with his number on the receipt.

older bf!kento who takes you out for a proper dinner that first night, all gentlemanly charm, but later pins you against his car in the parking lot, kissing you hard and murmuring, “been wanting this all damn night,” before sliding his hand under your dress.

older bf!kento who’s huge—like, damn, how’s that gonna fit?—but he’s so good with it. takes his time, easing into you inch by inch, whispering, “you’re taking me so well, baby, fuck, you’re amazing—doesn’t hurt, right?” and it doesn’t, ‘cause he’s so slick with the prep.

older bf!kento who smirks when you’re sore the next day, kissing your forehead and saying, “slept well? you’re so beautiful like this,” meaning fucked out. then he’s making you breakfast, all casual like he didn’t just ruin you the night before.

older bf!kento who walks you home after every date, even if it’s just down the street, holding your hand and chatting about random things. he lingers at your door, kissing your forehead soft and slow, saying, “sleep tight, darling.”

older bf!kento who brings you to his place after a long day, cooking you dinner—then bends you over the kitchen counter, hiking your skirt up, and fucking you deep and hard, whispering, “good girls get rewarded.”

older bf!kento who surprises you with a weekend getaway to a secluded cabin with a “pack light” instructions—only to spend half the trip with you naked across his lap, spanking you for teasing him by the fireplace, then fingering you ‘til you’re a whimpering mess.

older bf!kento who meets your friends at a chill hangout, and they pull you aside, “isn’t he kinda old for you?” you shrug and say, “yeah, but he fucks too good,” as a joke while he sips his drink, pretending he didn’t hear and prove to you later that he fucks you more than good.

older bf!kento who loves to strip you down to just his oversized dress shirt, then tosses you on the bed, and eats you out like a man starved—holding your thighs down when you squirm, saying, “stay still, princess, i’m not done.”

older bf!kento who’s always got a hand on your knee when you’re in his car, loving how small you look next to him—like his little passenger princess who doesn’t need to lift a finger.

older bf!kento who loves when you deepthroat him after a long day, sitting back in his armchair, watching you struggle to take all of him. he doesn’t help, just pets your hair and says, “you take me so good.”

older bf!kento who gets mistaken for a professor when he picks you up from a college class you’re auditing. he plays along, then pins you to his couch later, making you choke on his cock while he lectures, “good girls swallow.”

older bf!kento who gets quite jealous when some young coworker flirts with you at a work event. later, he’s got your wrists tied, pinning you to the hotel wall, fucking you rough, “think that kid can handle you? say my name louder,” then spanks you for good measure.

older bf!kento who’s waiting outside when you stumble out late from a girls’ night, frowning ‘til he sees you’re safe. he opens the car door for you, saying, “next time, you call me sooner—i don’t like you out here alone.”

older bf!kento who tucks you in when you fall asleep on the couch, lifting you gently to bed and brushing hair from your face with a quiet, “can’t have my baby all twisted up out here.”

older bf!kento who takes you to a stuffy work dinner where his colleagues whisper about “bringing someone so young,” but he just grips your thigh under the table, murmuring, “let ‘em talk.” because he genuinely doesn’t care.

older bf!kento who loves when you’re bratty, pinning you down and spanking your pussy ‘til it’s dripping, then filling you up wiht a low, “this what you were after, huh? my attention—fucking take it then.”

older bf!kento who ties you up with his tie after you tease him one too many times, binding your hands behind your back and bending you over before he pounds into you from behind, “tease me again, and i’ll leave you like this all night—fuck, you’re tight.”

older bf!kento who loves to tie you up in his bedroom—black ropes crisscrossing your torso, arms bound tight behind your back, legs spread and tied to the bedframe, and then fucks you from behind, “you’re a fucking beautiful like this—can’t move, can you? good.”

older bf!kento who wakes you up with slow morning sex, pinning your wrists behind your back and fucking you lazy and deep, always ending with a shuddered, “gotta cum inside you—shit, baby, you’re mine, feel it.” he stays buried in you after, kissing your neck all sweet while his cum drips out of you.

[cherryyluvs]

Hi just first wanted to say I love ur writing, it's so nice to read as if am really seeing it physically. Anyways I wanted to ask if you could write a starfire type reader where she first meets mark and how their relationship grows . Exploring his friends and parents reaction to her power , tamaranean background and personality. I know damn well cecil will be exhausted finding out there's another alien race with so much power . thank you again for ur work in the invincible fandom cause there's so few amazing writers. 😘😘

Ahhh thank you so much!! 🥹💖 That means the world to me!! I LOVE the idea of a Starfire-type reader I don’t know much of her but I tried my best (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) hope you enjoy!!

Mark first meets you under a.. Chaotic circumstance. An alien attack and he is already in mid-fight when you swoop in. Blasting through enemies, striking, and flipping with this effortless grace. Mark is immediately like Σ(°□°˶) !! So powerful, he can't take his eyes off of you. He's already impressed but also slightly intimidated. “Uh… who are you?” But you can't understand him yet, titling your head blinking in confusion. “You don't understand me, do you?”

Without hesitation you float towards him, placing your hands gently on his cheek and kissing him. Mark freezes. His eyes widened. You pull back, lips turning into a bright smile. “Ah! Now i understand”

“What just happened?”

“In my homeworld, Tamaran, lip contact is a simple custom to learn any language”

“simple..??” Mark is completely flustered while you're acting like kissing him was the most normal thing in the world.

He starts seeing you around more often, you being curious about Earth. Everything from human customs to food. Mark ends up becoming your unofficial guide. You’re fascinated by Earth’s food, the first time Mark takes you out for burgers, you literally hover out of your seat from excitement. “This is delicious! May I try yours?” and before he could answer you, steal a fry from his tray. Acting like fries are the greatest discovery of your life. (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ Mark becomes curious about Tamaranean culture and one day you got him to try something from your home plant – Zorkaberries. Presenting them to him proudly, a small bowl of deep purple berries in your hand, Mark would eye them suspiciously. He hesitated for a moment before picking one, and popping it in his mouth. The flavor being bittersweet “Whoa, this is really good?”

“Of course! They are Zorkaberries!!” giggling, floating closer and patting his back “do you wish for more?”

Tamaraneans are naturally affectionate so you're constantly touching mark. Holding his hand, brushing your fingers through his hair, and hugging him from behind. It's second nature to you. The more you two hang out and go on dates the more you start falling in love, he loves how blunt you are and have no problem telling Mark exactly how you feel — even if it flusters him.

When you first met his parents, Debbie and Nolan. You were extremely polite, immediately hugging her and complimenting her home. Offering to help with dinner which she is surprised but pleased by. During dinner time you speak of tales of your planet, your people, how you come from a warrior race and noble family. Nolan, on the other hand, is suspicious of you. He recognizes how powerful you are and the fact that you come from an alien race puts him on edge. His Viltrumite instincts are definitely twitching, wary of you but you remain cheerful and unbothered.

Cecil is immediately rubbing his temples because 2 Viltrumites is already bad enough – now there's Tamaranean on earth? Just what he needed, but deep down he knows you could be an invaluable ally , keeping a close eye on you to ensure you're not up to something.

As for mark friends ? William thinks you're super cool, saved him from a villain once and he won't stop yapping about how you carried him bridal style. Amber loves how sweet and down to earth you are, obsessed with helping you pick out earth clothes and doing ‘girl stuff’ together. Eve is immediately fascinated by you, she recognizes your power level and asks you about your planet and your culture. “So you guys can fly and absorb sunlight? That's insane”

“It is quite convenient!”

Bonus:

Afterward, Mark’s brain is still trying to catch up. Mark (to himself): “She’s a literal princess. And she kissed me. To learn my language. Okay.” (꜆꜄ᴗ͈﹏ᴗ͈)꜆꜄꜆

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - five (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. four | five | six | series masterlist 🔗read on ao3 ✨across stardust pinterest board

note: part five got away from me, so there will now be a part six which will end wrap up this story. this chapter is deeply emotional and full of moments that i truly hope everyone loves, though it's a bit of a plot direction i'm not sure anyone expected. additional notes at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers. thank you all for your love and support on this fic, it means the world.

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, anxiety/nerves, lots of angst, lots of tears, mentions of functional vs. dysfunctional families, alcohol consumption (not heavy), needy/rough sex, sex with no prep, clothed sex, oral sex f!receiving, mention of handjobs, romantic af sex, lots and lots and lots of praise/ possessive petnames (i.e. 'my love', 'my baby'), overuse of jagiya, basically they're soooo fucking happy to be back together

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 15.7k

It’s been too long since you’ve had a cup of Em’s herbal tea, that you’re sure of when you take the first long sip, cozied in the corner of their sofa and looking out the window at the little greenhouse patio room where Em tends to all her plants. It’s been five days since you left Seoul, and all you’ve heard from anyone is a single text message from Iseul that made your stomach roll. 

I’m sorry - I’ll call you as soon as I can. 

You had left your best friend a voicemail while Hana drove out of the city, short but to the point. You can remember the words perfectly - The company knows, things are bad and I’m going to Hana’s for a little while. Please tell him where I am, tell him I’m waiting. 

The single text and the silence after that has left you feeling untethered for days. 

The bond with Yunho has stayed mostly quiet. You can still feel him, his presence inside you will never fade, but he feels flat, shut down. It reminds you of that day in the airport, the way you seemed to lose connection with him when he steeled himself for the experience of being mobbed by fans. You wonder how much effort it takes him to mute his own emotions like this, you wonder if he can still feel you and the way you’ve cried yourself to sleep every night since you were fired. 

A breeze passes through the open window in the greenhouse, leaves swaying and shuddering with the air, and you hear the sound of the watering can, of Em’s house slippers on the slate flooring. 

For a brief moment, you picture a little house like this in the countryside. 

Yunho somewhere in the kitchen, your flowers in the garden, and little hands beside yours in the dirt. 

Your chest throbs, and you push yourself up to your feet before the quiet of the house lets you daydream anymore about a future that feels so much farther away than it did five days ago. 

Em turns as you step down into the greenhouse, and you tap the side of your cup, “I think this blend is the best you’ve done,” 

Em smiles, her kind face always putting you right at ease, “Yeah?” 

You nod, taking another sip, “What’s in this one?” 

“A mix,” She replies, “holy basil, lemongrass, dandelion root and nettle,” 

You wouldn’t know the difference between one herb and another, but Em does and she recites the ingredients in a way that calms you and takes your mind right back to the present and away from wandering, painful thoughts of the future. 

“Oh,” She nods, gesturing towards a large pot, “and gingko leaf,” 

“Mm,” You nod. 

Em finds a pair of shears and holds them out handle-side towards you. 

“Putting me to work?” You smile, setting your cup of tea to the side. 

“Hana’s cooking soon,” She nods and gestures towards a large box of pepper plants, “we need five or six of those,” 

“Sure,” 

It’s quiet for a moment as you assess the ripeness of the shishitos and while Hana refills her watercan from a hose in the corner, but when you start to clip a few off their leafy green plant, a voice catches you from the doorway. 

 “Should we take a trip?” Hana’s brightness fills the space, your sister always one to throw an idea at the wall and see if it will stick.

“A trip?” You blink. 

“Jeju, maybe?” She offers, looking between you and Em. 

“I’m unemployed, Hana,” You know she’s just trying to make you feel better, but your heart sinks and you scrub a hand over your tired face, “I should probably get a job.” 

“It hasn’t even been a week,” She says, “what you need is a break.” 

“Han,” You sigh, “I told you, Iseul knows where I am, which means he knows where I am. I can’t just leave.” 

Em is quiet behind you, but you hear her set down the watering can and exhale softly. 

“Iseul, the girl who ratted you out?” Hana says, her voice a little sharper than it was the last time she asked this question.

“I told you already,” You shake your head, “they lied about that.” 

Your sister’s jaw tightens and relaxes, like she’s trying to keep herself from saying something. It’s been days of this. When you got to the house you poured the whole story out in a wash of tears, and ever since Hana has been upset at the wrong things and the wrong people. Em has been your calm constant, always a listener first, careful not to assume. 

“I just think he should have found a way to call you,” Hana says, sinking into the doorframe and her eyes softening to something you can only describe as pity, “and I still don’t think you can trust Iseul, but after five days how hard is it to pick up a phone?” 

“Han,” You chest aches, “Hana, I really can’t hear this,” 

“I think you might need to hear it,” She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest, “I think you’re just sitting here in pain while he could do something about it,” 

“Baby,” Em finally speaks up, shaking her head in your peripheral vision at her wife. 

“I know, I know,” Hana says, “I’m just worried about you, I’ve never seen you like this and I know he has a very important job or whatever, but you’re,” 

Your heart lurches, “Hana, I love you, but you do not know what this industry is like.” 

“I just,” 

“When they want to,” You continue, “they control every facet of your life. Yunho’s in trouble because of us, I’m not angry with him, I’m worried about him. If he hasn’t called me, I promise you he has a reason and I’m not going farther away from him while this is happening,” 

She lets out a dejected breath of air, “Fine,” 

“Iseul will call,” You add, “I don’t blame anybody but the company,” 

“And if,” Hana starts to say. 

“Let’s not,” Em interrupts smoothly, “y/n, how are those peppers coming?” 

You blink, the sheers and the peppers in your hands forgotten with the sudden presence of your sister, “Uh,” you clear your throat, “good,” 

“Great,” Em smiles widely and lightens the mood, “Han, baby, I’m getting hungry. Can we start the meat?” 

Hana’s lips close into a little line and then she exhales slowly through her nose before nodding, “Yeah, I’ll get it going,” 

“Great, we’ll be in soon,” Em says with gentle authority. 

Hana nods, disappearing around the corner and you let out a heavy sigh, letting your eyes go unfocused again on the plant in front of you. 

After a moment, Em rests a gentle hand on your back, “You know I love your sister, but when she makes up her mind about something,” 

You nod as Em trails off, “She’s wrong about this though,” 

Em hums in understanding and takes the shears out of your hands to finish clipping the remaining peppers off their vine. 

“Something isn’t right,” You explain quietly, “I can feel him, but it’s so distant, he wouldn’t be pushing me away if there wasn’t a good reason,” 

“I believe you,” Em replies. 

“I want Hana to understand,” You confess, “I don’t want her to hate him,” 

Em leans in, wrapping her arms around you in a hug and you let her, biting the inside of your lip to keep your emotions in check for what feels like the hundredth time today, “She won’t,” Em says softly, “but she loves you and needs to make sure her big sister is okay, okay?” 

You nod. 

“I’ll talk to her,” She says as she steps back out of the hug, “but for now, let’s go make dinner. Let’s open a bottle of wine and just forget about it for tonight. If you say Iseul will call, she’ll call. If you say he’s going to come for you, he will, but waiting for it is making you sick. Let’s let it go for a little while,” 

Thick emotion sits lodged in your throat, but you manage a nod, “Okay,” 

“Okay,” She smiles, cupping your cheek for a moment and wiping away a single stray tear, “come on,” 

You follow her into the kitchen, where Hana has already started laying out cutting boards and pulling ingredients out of the fridge, but when you cross into the room she drops the bundle of green onions onto the counter and walks over to you, throwing her arms around you. 

“Oh,” You hug her back, your eyes connecting with Em across the room who gives you a soft shrug and a knowing smile. 

“I’m sorry,” Hana squeezes you, “I didn’t mean to make you upset again,” 

“It’s alright,” You murmur, “I just want you to trust me,” 

“I trust you,” She sighs, “I do,” 

You expect a ‘but’, a follow up, something about how no matter how much she trusts you she doesn’t trust the people who made you feel this way, but if Hana thinks it, this time she holds her tongue. 

At the sharp sound of a cork pulling free from a wine bottle, you both separate and turn towards Em who holds up a sizable bottle of red. 

“Come on,” She says finding some glasses, “let’s get drunk,” 

The tension in the room diffuses, and for the first time in days the knot between your shoulders loosens. 

Em pours the wine, Hana sparks the flame on the gas stove, and you slide into place at the cutting board to start prepping vegetables. Within fifteen minutes, the warmth of the wine works its way into your system, Em has thrown a vinyl on the turntable and turned up the volume, and Hana is in her element with the stirfry. 

You don’t see Iseul’s first call or her second, the music in the kitchen is too loud and you’re in the middle of your first real and good laugh since the firing, your phone forgotten on the island entirely. It isn’t until you’re walking past to get a look at the recipe on Hana’s phone that you see yours light up again with Iseul’s name and you hastily wipe your hands on your apron and reach for it. 

You almost drop it as you fish it off the table, and Hana and Em go quiet as they watch you fumble to answer. There’s a single second of doubt, a moment of fear in your stomach about what she’s going to say, but you push it aside and pick up, “Hello?” 

“y/n?” Iseul sounds relieved. 

“Hey,” it’s all you can manage, and despite Hana’s nervous expression, you walk straight out of the kitchen to a quieter part of the house to finally, finally find out what’s been going on at home in Seoul. 

“I know what they told you,” Iseul starts, her voice a little emotional, “but I swear to god, I didn’t tell anyone about you and Yunho.” 

“I know,” You breathe, but you’re still relieved to hear her say it and the words come out in a sigh.

“It was Eunji,” 

That gets your attention. 

At the far side of the house you lean against the stairs until you’re sinking down onto them, disbelief in your voice, “Eunji?” 

You weren’t as close with her as you were with Iseul, but you were still on the same team. You considered her your friend, you would have never done something like this to her. 

“She saw you and Yunho together,” She explains, “she overheard us talking too, I didn’t know she had, she just… she put some things together, jumped to conclusions,” 

“And she just reported us? Just like that?” 

“It’s, yeah,” Iseul takes a breath. 

“I don’t even know what she saw, what she thinks she knows,” Your gut clenches in disbelief, in anger. 

“I think half of it was guessing, half of it lies. Saving her own skin,” Iseul says. 

“Her own skin?” 

“She’s been on a probationary action plan, apparently,” Iseul informs you, “she posted something on social media a few months ago that accidentally disclosed the members’ location, she got reprimanded and warned.” 

“Fuck,” You blink, “I had no idea,”

“No one did,” She continues, “she sold you out to make herself look better,” 

“Iseul,” You breathe, dropping your head into your hands, “what about Yunho?” 

She’s quiet for a moment, but then she says, “It’s been bad here.” 

Alarm shoots through you, “Is he alright?” 

“They took his phone,” She explains, “they’re watching him and the other members like hawks, it’s like they’re rookies again.” 

You swallow tightly. 

“The staff was told you were let go for budget,” She goes on, “which kind of backfired on them. Everyone’s speculating who’s next. With how weird it’s been… I just didn’t know what happened in the meeting, I didn’t want to reach out and make something worse if something was going on legally,” 

“Oh,” 

“I talked to Yunho this morning,” She says and you straighten up, “he told me what happened, he told me what they said about you and that I was the one who… and Eunji was acting weird, sneaky, I’m just sorry I didn’t call before,” 

“I know, it’s okay, I’m okay,” You breathe. 

“No,” She manages, “I should have called,” 

“Iseul, please,” You shake your head, “I don’t care about that anymore,” 

She sighs, and then she says something else, her voice low enough that you wonder where she is and if someone could overhear her side of things, “They’re working on a plan,” she says, “he’s not giving up, and the members are with him.” 

Relief fills your chest, “They are?” 

“Yunho said they’re moving fast,” 

Heat wells in your eyes, the start of tears, “Okay,” 

“We didn’t have much time to talk, but he said soon,” 

You nod, your hand tightening on your thigh as you get your emotions in check, “How did he seem? How is he?” 

”Not good, babe,” She admits, “he’s… it’s obvious he’s not sleeping or eating.” 

“I need to come home,” You breathe.

 “No,” She insists, “not yet,” 

“Iseul,” You massage a tight spot of anxiety on your chest. 

“He said he knows you’re far, he can feel that you’re not in Seoul,” She continues, “when I told him you were with Hana he looked so relieved,” 

Your eyes press shut. 

“Listen,” She murmurs, “I have a letter for you,” 

“A letter?” You take a deep breath. 

“He asked me not to read it, just to get it to you. I mailed it to Hana’s this morning,” She says softly. 

It feels like a lifeline.

“I know this is bad right now,” She says, “but tell me you’re okay,” 

“I don’t know,” You offer, “tell me this is going to work out?” 

“It’s going to work out,” She insists, “you’re not here, but people aren’t happy. Everyone has questions about your firing, even managers are asking questions. One of the security officers said the way KQ handled it didn’t sit right,” 

“Are you serious?” Your eyes widen. 

“People love you here,” She reminds you, “you’re family. I don’t know what happened in that room, but this is not going away like they want. You just have to stay strong.” 

You wipe the threat of tears away and nod, “I want to come home,” 

“I know,” She murmurs, “but trust him, I’ve never seen the members this serious. Something’s happening, something big,” 

“I trust him,” You breathe, “I trust you,” 

“We’ve got you,” She says, her voice stronger than how you’ve felt in days, “you’re coming home.” 

For the first time in five days, you feel a real moment of hope. 

“Babe,” She takes a sharp breath, “I am, I really… I’m so sorry,” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” 

“I didn’t tell them,” She says, “but Eunji still heard something from me, if I had just,” 

“You didn’t do anything that Yunho and I didn’t do ten times over,” You brush her guilt away, “sneaking off at the office, finding little ways to be together. We couldn’t help ourselves, and here we are. If it wasn’t her it would have been someone else, but you kept our secret, you didn’t do this,” 

She’s quiet for a moment and then she makes a soft sound to clear her throat, “You’re my best friend,” 

“You’re mine,” You reply automatically. 

“Listen,” She says, “I’ve got to go, I don’t want anyone to walk in and overhear, but look for the letter. He said the plan’s in there. Stay strong, and I’ll text you and keep you updated, we’re gonna figure this out.” 

You grab onto that thought with both hands, “Okay,” 

“I love you, girl,” She says softly. 

“Love you too,” 

When the call ends, emotion floods your chest. You're terrified, relieved, grateful, hopeful, all of it at once for the first time in days. It took a while, but you finally know the truth of what you always believed, Yunho’s fighting for you, just like he promised he would. 

Now you just have to wait. 

It takes two days, but his letter finally arrives. 

For two days you prepared yourself for what he could have written. You packed your bags for Seoul, you texted endlessly with Iseul, and you tried to find every chore under the sun around the house to help Hana and Em with to keep your mind off the impending something that was coming in the mail. 

When the post finally pushes through the mail slot in the door on the second day after your call, you run to get it, searching through the pile of papers until you see a manila envelope with your name on it. It feels like the sweetest relief, yesterday’s mail just bills and junk, a little bit of heartbreak even though you knew logically mail from Seoul would take longer than a single day.

But it’s here now, safely in your hands. You sink back against the door and tear it open, getting to the sealed letter inside, Yunho’s messy handwriting instantly identifiable. With shaking hands you let the rest of the mail fall to the floor and you pull open the crisp white envelope to get at the folded sheet of paper inside. 

y/n -

I love you, this first always. 

Tears spill over and you blink hard to clear your vision before you start the letter over again. 

y/n - 

I love you, this first always. You must hate me for this silence, for how long it’s been, but please remember I love you and I promise everything I’m doing now I do for you. You’re my heart, you are in me always. 

There’s so much to say, but I’ll do it in person. I have a plan, and the members are standing beside us. After they took you away, they made it clear that any contact with you from any of the members would mean a breach of contract. They still don’t know that we’ve already started working on negotiations, they think they caught us unprepared. Our outside attorney has been quietly advising us these past few days through Hongjoong, and we’ve put together all the plans and paperwork. It didn’t happen like it was supposed to, but we are going to push harder for renegotiation, and you’re a part of that. There’s so much to explain, so much legal jargon I’ve been researching for days, but we’re almost ready and all the risks seem worth it if you and I are together at the end of this.

I wish I could see you now, apologize for everything that happened. What they did to you was wrong, not just how they treated you as a person, but legally. I will explain it all when we see each other, but I have hope now and so should you. 

We’ve organized a meeting, and I hope you’ll come. Thursday, at ten after our schedules we will be staying late for more practice and meeting secretly with the attorney in person. Monday morning we have a meeting with our CEO. I am fighting for us, and I need you by my side. I don’t know where you are, but I feel it in my body that it’s not here, not home. I’m asking Iseul to get this letter to you, and I’m asking you to trust me. 

Please come home to me. I’m ready to fight for us, I’m ready for our story to start. 

I love you, I’ll never stop. 

Yours. 

By the time you’re finished reading, your hands are shaking, tears tracking down your cheeks.

With the letter clutched in your hand your heart feels like it’s finally beating to the right rhythm again.

“Hana,” You call into the depths of the house, scrubbing away your tears “I need a ride to Seoul!”

One more day, just one. 

Tomorrow, you’ll be back in his arms. 

───────────────────────── ✧₊⁺───────────────────────

The drive home feels longer than ever. 

It’s raining when you make it to the KQ studio space, a heavy dark downpour that leaves Hana driving slowly through deep puddles to get into the familiar parking garage. It’s fairly empty, it always is in the evening after eight or nine, so you’re able to park inconspicuously but still close to the lower access doors. 

Everything feels like the plot of a film, clandestine meetings and back door business deals. 

By the time Hana engages the parking brake, your heart is pounding in your chest. You breathe through it, unbuckling your seatbelt and hastily smoothing down your hair before pressing a hand to your anxious chest. 

Hana kills the ignition and twists in her seat, “We’re coming in with you,” 

“Yeah?” Your eyebrows raise. 

“I’m meeting him,” She nods, “and you need backup.” 

Em nods from the backseat and rests a warm hand on your shoulder, “You’re not going in alone.” 

Your phone buzzes in your hands and you nod before you see the text you’ve been waiting for from Iseul. 

“She’s downstairs,” You say, “let’s go,” 

Quietly, you all exit the car, waiting for only the briefest moment by the lower door. Iseul pops her head out as the heavy industrial door swings open and you rush forwards. 

She tugs you into a hug once you’re all safely inside and you can already feel the rising tide of emotion and nerves flooding through you. 

“Hey,” Iseul manages, her voice cracking, “I’m so fucking happy to see you,” 

“Me too,” You breathe back the rush of tears. 

“Everyone’s upstairs,” She says as you break apart, “are you ready?” 

“Ready for what?” You manage, “Yunho’s letter wasn’t clear on the specifics,” 

“Shit,” She says, “okay you’re going to want to take a deep breath.” 

“Why?” You glance to your sister. 

“There’s a lot of people here, it’s going to be fine though,” Iseul tells you, hitting the button for the elevator. 

“As long as he’s here I really don’t care if you have the entire National Assembly upstairs,” 

Iseul laughs softly, “I’ll remember you said that,” she says, and then she turns to acknowledge your family, “hi Hana, hi Em, I’m so glad you’re both here,” 

“Of course,” Hana says as the elevator doors open, “we’re here for whatever she needs,” 

Iseul smiles warmly as you all step into the elevator. 

As the doors close, you can hear them still talking - small talk about the rain, the drive to Seoul, but you can’t take it in. For the first time in days, you can feel him close again, and your heart picks up inside your chest. You don’t care what’s in store for you here, as long as you can see him again, feel his touch, as long as he’s still your center. 

The minute the doors open your feet start carrying you forwards, just a quick walk down the hall and into the studio space you know so well. Past the room where they do their dance practices is a series of smaller studios, offices, and a conference room with a large lobby in the center. You don’t need Iseul to tell you where he is, you feel the pull of him, and you follow it all the way down the corridor and around the corner into the main space. 

There’s other people here but you don’t take in a single soul except Yunho. He’s waiting for you, standing tall in the center of the lobby and watching for you, and the moment you round the corner and meet his eyes he’s moving. 

Your bag falls from your shoulder to the floor and you rush forwards to meet him.

He scoops you up like he has to touch you, pulling you into his arms in a desperate embrace, and finally the feeling inside you snaps. A relieved sob bubbles up from your throat and you bury your face into his shoulder, clinging to his sweatshirt. 

“You’re here,” He manages, his head pressed against yours. 

You nod, tightening your arms around his shoulders, “I missed you,” 

He makes a small, shuddering sound, his hand cupping the back of your head tenderly, and then all at once whatever walls he had maintained for days crumble to the ground. You feel him, his emotions, his mind, it all crashes into you. You know in a rush what he’s been dealing with for days. Unadulterated fear for you, shame in himself, betrayal, grief, and all encompassing anger. But beneath that, laced through every inch, is fierce determination and love, full and timeless for you. 

He breathes out in a shudder of relief before pulling back so he can see your face, smoothing back your hair to look at you, to love you, “Hi,” he murmurs softly. 

“Hi,” You touch his cheek as a smile spreads over his face. 

He looks tired, like stress has run him ragged since you’ve been gone, but he’s real and he’s solid under your touch. 

Behind you, Iseul gently clears her throat, and it breaks the spell. Glancing to either side you realize for the first time you’re not alone with him. 

“Yunho,” You murmur, “what’s going on?”

He nods, “Right, of course,” 

He’s hesitant to put you down, that you can feel, but he sets you back on your feet and chooses to hold your hand instead, fingers laced together tightly. 

His skin feels so right. 

Yunho straightens up, “Um,” he exhales, “okay there’s a lot to tell you,” 

“Hey, y/n,” Wooyoung says from a few feet away and you grin when you see him and all the members off to the side, looking a little emotional themselves. 

“Hey,” You feel so dizzy with happiness to be back here, to see so many faces you’d spent the last five years with. 

You look past them and around the lobby and your chest tightens, it’s more than just the members. You recognize managers, and you hear additional voices down the hall where you know there’s a kitchenette. You hear the sound of the espresso machine, and to the right of the hall, you can see more figures behind the frosted glass walls of the conference room. 

“Yunho,” You breathe. 

Iseul said there would be a lot of people here, and she wasn’t kidding. 

“I’ll explain everything soon,” He says, running his hands up and down your arms, “but everyone here is here to help us, to support us,” 

“Your managers,” Your eyes dart that way again. 

“Don’t agree with what’s happened at all,” He says firmly, “they’re like family to us, they didn’t want all of us to be treated this way,” 

“Everyone knows?” Your eyebrows raise. 

“Everyone here does,” He nods, “it’s all part of the plan for Monday,” 

Your head is spinning already, “I don’t,” 

“I promise I’ll explain,” He reiterates, “do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” 

“Then trust me,” He murmurs, “I promise, we’re going to be okay.” 

He’s so solid, so confident, and you blink back a hazy mist of tears, nodding to him. 

Yunho squeezes your hands and then he nods towards the doorway, “This must be Hana,” 

You remember yourself then, pulling him over, “God, I’m sorry,” you tell her, “yes, Hana and Em, this is Yunho.” 

Yunho bows deeply, and tight emotion catches in your throat, “Thank you both for taking care of her,” he says, “it’s… I’m honored to meet you. y/n speaks of you so warmly, I’m so glad to have you both here for us.” 

Em smiles widely, nudging her wife, “We’re so happy to meet you,” 

Hana nods, looking between the two of you, “Same,” he says, her eyes watering, “oh fuck, I’m going to cry already,” 

Yunho smiles. 

Em squeezes Hana’s shoulders and smoothly takes over, “It looks like you have a plan?” 

Yunho nods, “Yes, the short version is that we’re all set to do the final review of the renegotiations and prepare to speak with our CEO on Monday,” 

Your eyes flick to the board room, “Your attorney’s here?” 

He nods, “Ready to walk us through the paperwork and confirm the plan,” 

“And y/n’s involvement?” Hana clears her throat. 

“She’s part of everything,” Yunho says calmly, turning to you, “we’ll go over it in detail, but we want things fixed for you too, not just our contracts.” 

You nod. 

“There’s more to it than that, but,” He looks a little nervous, a brief flicker of it in his chest, but he shifts his attention back to your sister, “will you both stay? I know it’s late, but,” 

“We’re here,” Em nods. 

“Thank you,” He smiles, “there’s a kitchen that way, bathrooms down the hall to the left, and plenty of couches. Can I get you anything?” 

Hana and Em both shake their heads. 

“Yunho,” Hongjoong’s voice breaks your attention and you both look to the side, “we’re ready to start,” 

The members are filing into the boardroom and your heart seems to pound faster in your chest. 

“We’ll be right here,” Hana assures you, “come get us if you need us,” 

All you can do is nod. 

“Ready?” Yunho wraps his arm around you, this time steering you in the direction of the board room.

”As I can be,” You admit, “I still don’t know what’s going on,” 

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, “and there is something else,” 

You look up to him and he grimaces lightly. 

“My family’s here,” He says softly. 

“What?” Shock spreads through you. 

“They came up when I told them what was happening, and they brought some paperwork I needed from home,” He sums up quickly, “a lot is going to happen over the next few days, and I needed them here,” 

“You’re scaring me a little,”  

“It’s okay,” He smiles, “I swear, trust me, remember?” 

Anxiety tumbles in your gut as you round the corner into the conference room. Too much was happening, an overwhelming wave of information and whatever this meeting was would be no better you’re sure of that. 

But Yunho’s hand is in yours, his heartbeat steady. 

If nothing else is true in the world, you trust this man. 

The conference table is a long, expensive looking walnut right for a business meeting, and Yunho walks you to two middle seats saved just for you both. The members circle on either side of you, and across the table you’re face to face with Hongjoong and a sharp looking man in a suit who you can only assume is their attorney. Their managers sit in extra office chairs that have been wheeled into the room, and you’re acutely aware that every pair of eyes in the room is on you and Yunho. 

“Alright,” The attorney begins, “you must be y/n, I’m Attorney Choi,” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” You nod your head. 

“And you,” He smiles, and there’s genuine warmth in it, “everyone’s told me good things,” 

Heat pricks at your cheeks. 

He slides a few folders in front of himself and takes a quick sip of water. Your stomach tightens, remembering the folder packed full of lies from the last time you were in a KQ office. 

Yunho’s hand smooths up and down your spine. 

“Now,” Attorney Choi says, “let’s get started, we have a coup to plan,” 

Your hands clasp together under the table, and you swallow nervously. 

“Joong,” Yunho prompts softly, and you watch Hongjoong nod. 

“Right,” He says, “y/n, I’m sure Yunho told you this part but Monday we are meeting with the CEO and we have some options.” 

You nod, and Yunho’s hand continues the slow comforting line up and down your back. 

“We have adjusted contracts ready,” He explains, “it includes everything we’ve agreed on as eight members. I’ll let Yunho talk you through those details later, but the most important thing for this conversation is that all romantic entanglement clauses are to be dropped immediately.” 

“With everything you’re negotiating for,” You glance between Hongjoong and Yunho, “do you expect they will agree or not?” 

Attorney Choi interjects smoothly, “They won’t, but we have a prepared list of changes and adjustments. Companies need to feel like they’re winning, like they’re getting the best part of the deal, so we’ll make them believe that.” 

You nod. 

“We also have separate documentation that concerns you,” Yunho says. 

Attorney Choi once again jumps in, “Miss y/n,” he says, tapping a small stack of papers on the tabletop to line them up before sliding them over to you, “please review these. We intend to assert on your behalf that your termination was not only harassment, but unlawful.” 

Your eyes skim the page at rapid speed and you can’t take in everything, but certain words jump out at you - misogynistic language, discrimination, libel, unfounded accusations, the list goes on. 

“This we want you to explicitly agree to,” Hongjoong says, “we won’t pursue it if you’re not comfortable.” 

Quickly you flip through the pages, glancing at Yunho, “You’ve read this?” 

“Carefully,” He assures you. 

You swallow, letting the papers fall closed so you can look up again, “I don’t want this to interfere with your ability to get a positive outcome in the negotiation.” 

Hongjoong shakes his head, “You getting your job back is a positive outcome,” 

“When push comes to shove,” Their attorney offers, “the courts don’t rule favorably for women in cases like these, I won’t lie to you.” 

Yunho turns to watch you, his eyes studying your expression, but you simply nod, “I know.” 

“That being said,” He continues, “no company wants this kind of story in the media or to spend time in court arguing the finer points of sexism. We use this to get your job back as part of the negotiation, and to give your relationship status with Mr. Jeong immunity,” 

“I’ll do it,” You nod. 

“You should read it through,” Hongjoong starts but you shake your head, turning to Yunho. 

“You’ve read it, what do you think?” 

He takes your hand, “It’s not without risk,” he says honestly, “but it’s our best option for keeping your name and your job in the negotiation process. I don’t want you left behind by whatever this this turns into,” 

You squeeze his hand, “I trust you.” 

He nods, the weight of that trust not lost on him, his thumb grazing slowly over your knuckles.

You turn back to Hongjoong, “I’ll do it,” 

He smiles a little and then nods, “Alright,” 

“What happens if they say no to everything?” You ask, “What happens if they don’t want to negotiate at all?” 

Hongjoong looks around the table at his members, and then finally back to you, “We are prepared to walk away from KQ if that happens.” 

Your stomach drops like lead, “What?” 

Hongjoong clears his throat, “For a long time, we’ve discussed the future after this company. KQ has taken care of us up until now, but we won’t tolerate a hostile work environment.” 

You grip Yunho’s hand harder.

“Mingi and I have talked about our own label since before debut,” He says and your eyes widen, “we always planned to do it someday, but if these negotiations go poorly, we are prepared to walk away as a group and rebuild under a new label, our own label.” 

“But,” You flounder, “The money,” 

Hongjoong nods, “It’s no small thing,” he agrees, “you’re right, but we’ve run the numbers. We can pay the debts we owe, and wash our hands of this company if we have to.”

You look to Yunho. 

“Our families,” He says softly, “many of them have agreed to become primary investors in the label,” 

Your eyes sting with tears, “But, that’s… this is too risky,” 

“It is risky,” Hongjoong says, “but it is a risk we are all willing to take together for the sake of all of our happiness and success.” 

You cover your mouth with your free hand, shock in every inch of your system. 

“In all likelihood,” Attorney Choi offers, “your CEO is a pragmatic man. At the potential of losing their only senior group publicly, they will meet our demands. Their wallets would not easily recover from that level of revenue loss, that is a risk I am confident they are not willing to take.” 

You let that sink in.

”They need us more than we need them,” Hongjoong says, “that we are all sure of.” 

You nod, your voice a little hoarse from the shock, “What more do you need from me?” 

“Right now, nothing,” Their attorney says, “be available if we need you to speak to KQ leadership directly, but otherwise your signature on a few documents will be enough.” 

“You won’t need to talk to them,” Yunho asserts. 

“I’ll do whatever it is you need me to do,” You tell them honestly. 

Attorney Choi nods, “Then let’s begin and review the plan for Monday,” 

Everyone nods, and you look at Yunho to see if you should leave, give them space to discuss the minutiae of contracts, but he holds your hand steady. 

The review takes over an hour, and the plan is layered and detailed. Their attorney will do the talking in the meeting, and state their intent to renegotiate immediately. He’ll cover the high points of their requests, and position things carefully where your firing and mistreatment is concerned. Management will be present to lend their support, all members will be there to personally state their own commitment to renegotiation or termination, and you will be patiently waiting by the phone. 

By the end your head is throbbing, every facet of the plan peeled open and examined to ensure the right outcome, but where they’ve all had over a week to come to terms with this plan, you’ve digested it at lightning speed. 

“It’s late,” Attorney Choi finally says, “this weekend get some rest where you can, this may be a long fight ahead.” 

It’s nearly midnight, and your head is fuzzy. You have an overwhelming urge to just sink into Yunho’s chest and beg him to take you home, but everyone’s still discussing little details amongst themselves and your head spins from all the information. 

“I feel good about it,” San says, standing and stretching, “not to be too confident too soon,” 

“Optimistic,” Seonghwa offers. 

Yunho nods in agreement, but you watch his hand nervously tighten and release as he stands. 

“Tomorrow we’ll,” Mingi trails off and then clears his throat “well, you’ll let us know,” 

Yunho nods, eyes flicking to you for a brief second, “I’ll text you,” 

Mingi smiles, “Alright,” 

Yunho’s hands slide over your shoulders and he gives you a squeeze, “Ready?” 

“Yeah,” You have to fight back a yawn, but you thank the attorney profusely before you turn to follow Yunho. 

When you make it to the door though, he pauses and wraps an arm around you, “Listen, I know it’s late, but I have a few people to introduce you to,” 

For a split second you don’t make sense of his words, but as you come out of the conference room and back into the lobby with the wide couches, it all clicks back into place. Sitting in the center of the room is Hana and Em on one couch, with Iseul perched delicately on the arm, and across from them on the opposite couch is an older couple and a young man in his early twenties that looks so similar to Yunho you think for a moment your sleepy brain is playing a trick on you until you remember his family is here. 

Iseul looks to you, and smiles, gesturing as subtly as possible for you to take a deep breath. 

Your eyes widen a little, and then Yunho steers you right into the conversational fray. 

“Baby,” He squeezes your shoulder, “I want you to meet my family,” 

You would have known it without him telling you. Now that you’re right in front of them it’s even more obvious, Yunho is the near spitting image of his father, though he’s a few inches taller, and Yunho’s brother is a younger, lankier, and tanner version of him, all three of them with the same kind smiles. His mother, though, you see Yunho’s eyes the moment you look at her. 

“Oh,” You breathe, and suddenly you wish you had worn something different or done absolutely anything to your hair. 

Those thoughts barely last though, because Yunho’s mother pushes her son aside to wrap her arms around you. 

“Eomma,” Yunho chastises softly, “let her breathe,” 

“Shush,” She says leaning back to look at you, her hands on your cheeks, “I’m meeting my new daughter,” 

Hot tears rush up in your eyes, spilling over onto your cheeks, “I don’t know what to say,” you manage, “I’m so happy to meet you,”

“So are we,” She smooths your tears away, a motherly gesture that makes your heart lurch, and then she nods, “he said you were pretty,” 

“Eomma,” Yunho’s arm wraps around you again, effectively shifting you back into his embrace, “give her some air,” 

“It’s good to meet you,” Yunho’s father nods, “Yunho’s been talking of nothing else,” 

Gunho snorts a laugh at his big brother’s expense, and when you glance up you see the pink blush on his cheeks, the redness of his ears. 

You open your mouth to respond, but Yunho gives your shoulder a squeeze, “I see you met y/n’s family, I’m sorry, I should have done introductions before,” 

Yunho’s father waves his hand, “We’re fine, how was the meeting?” 

Yunho nods, “Productive,” 

“You all have a consensus?” He asks. 

“We’re set,” Yunho replies. 

“That’s good,” Yunho’s father replies, “any contract changes?” 

Yunho shakes his head, “All the same as before,” 

He nods and then meets your gaze, “How do you feel about the language for your suit? Comfortable?”

“Oh,” Your eyes widen a little. 

“Ah,” Yunho interjects, “I had our family attorney look everything over too, just to make sure I understood everything,” 

“I see,” You smile, warmth in your chest at how attentive he’s been, but you look back up to his father, “but yes, I’m good, I’m comfortable with everything,” 

“Good,” He nods, “if you have questions during the process, we can help with that too.” 

“Thank you so much,” You hope you don’t seem too surprised at the overwhelming kindness of his parents, but you are, despite all of Yunho’s stories about them. 

“For tomorrow,” His mother interjects, but Yunho smoothly cuts her off. 

“I haven’t gotten to talk her through everything yet,” Yunho says, “but I’ll let you know,” 

Her lips close in a small smile. 

Gunho glances up from his phone at his brother with a look on his face you can’t place. 

“Actually,” Yunho’s father turns to his wife, “yeobo, can you check something for me?” 

Yunho’s parents turn to each other briefly, but Yunho turns his head towards you and keeps his voice low, “You okay?” 

“I thought the meeting was Monday,” You ask your question as softly as possible, “why does everyone keep asking about tomorrow?” 

He gives you a fast, close lipped smile, “I have to talk to you about something,” 

Your heart gives a little lurch, “Yunho,” 

“Just,” His eyes dart from your face back up to his family, “one second,” 

He steps away, leaving you feeling suddenly adrift again, but as soon as he’s gone, Hana steps into your space. 

“Hey,” She says, “Em and I are going to head to your place,” 

“Okay,” You blink, “yeah,” 

“You’re staying with Yunho, right?” She checks. 

“I don’t,” You stumble a little over your words, “we didn’t talk about tonight, really,”

“We can wait,” Hana says. 

“No, it’s late,” 

Hana nods, but looks hesitant to leave if you need her. 

“Go,” You tell her with a smile, “I’ll be fine, there’s extra bedding in my linen closet upstairs just make yourselves comfortable. If I end up coming home I’ll crash on the couch.” 

“And you’re okay?” Em checks as she slips her jacket on. 

“I’m good,” You promise, “Yunho said there’s more for us to talk about, but you don’t have to wait for that.” 

Hana hesitates, and then she nods, “Call me if something’s up,” 

“I will,” 

They start to step away, Yunho still close to his family and talking to his parents quietly, but Hana interjects smoothly with a quick tap to Yunho’s arm. 

“We’re heading out for now,” She says and nods in your direction, “you’ve got her, right?” 

Yunho smiles widely, and you can see the clear potential for a fast friendship between them in the natural ease they have together, “Got her,” 

“Alright,” She smiles and bows to his family, “it was wonderful to meet you,” 

They exchange pleasant goodbyes, and you give Hana and Em one more hug before they go. 

“Well,” Yunho’s father smiles at the lull in conversation as your family leaves, “we should get back to our hotel too,”

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Yunho’s mother wraps you in another hug, “we’ll get to know each other a little better,” 

“Tomorrow,” You start to say, but you’re sure you sound confused at yet another person who knows plans that you still don’t. 

“Alright,” Yunho breaks through, pulling you back, “drive safely,” 

Yunho’s father gives him a wry smile and then nods, “Come on, yeobo, give the kids some room,” 

Yunho’s mother makes a dismissive noise in the back of her throat but smiles goodnaturedly and gives Yunho a parting kiss on the cheek. 

You catch Gunho’s affectionate eye roll, a mirror image of Yunho’s and you stifle a laugh. 

Yunho’s family makes their way out of the lobby towards the elevators, and finally he lets out a tense breath. You can feel the stiffness through the bond, the locked up intensity of his shoulders. 

“Yun,” You lean into his side, “what’s tomorrow?” 

“I’m sorry,” He says, “you must be so confused.” 

“I trust you,” You remind him, “but so much is happening, I’m just trying to get my feet under me,” 

“I know,” He murmurs, glancing around to see who’s left in the space. 

“There’s more to the plan that we have to do tomorrow,” You search his face, “is that it?” 

“Not here, come with me,” Yunho says softly, pulling you by the hand down the hall into one of the smaller, more private conference rooms. 

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” You let out a nervous exhale, “I don’t know how you pulled all this together in a week,” 

“Most of it was already in progress,” He shuts the door behind you. 

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” You look up at him, “what’s happening tomorrow?” 

“I’ll explain,” He nods, “but first,” 

His lips collide with yours and you see stars, your bodies snapping together like magnets, and you make a soft, happy sound against his lips. Yunho stumbles back with you in his arms, bracing himself with one hand against the frosted glass wall of the conference room and you melt into him, clinging to his broad shoulders.

“I missed you,” He says between kisses, “I’m never letting you go again,”

You nod into a kiss. 

“I’m so sorry,” His breath hitches, “it shouldn’t have taken me so long,” 

You brush your fingers down his cheek, pulling back just enough to see his face, “Don’t,” you murmur, “we’re here now.” 

“I’m trying so hard to fix this,” He confesses, leaning back from the wall and cupping the back of your head. 

“You are,” You brush those thoughts of his away, “Yunho, I love you,”  

You feel all the tenderness, the overwhelm, and he swallows tightly, “I love you too,” 

Pressing up on your tiptoes you kiss him again, gentler this time as you rest your hand over his soulmark, feeling the tender thump of his heart under your palm. 

Breaking the kiss, Yunho touches your hand and holds it to his chest, straightening up to his full height and taking a deep, steadying breath, “Okay,” 

You nod, encouraging him forwards, rubbing a soft line over his chest with your thumb. 

“I need to ask you something,” He confesses, “but I’m nervous,” 

“Nervous?” You shake your head, “Baby, it’s me, you can ask me anything,” 

He smiles, his shoulders relaxing just a little. 

Soulmate bonds are such funny things. Six months ago, this man was a coworker, someone you thought about sometimes or someone that would make your stomach flutter, a little crush you were sure would fade. But a soulmate bond changes everything. If your parents had ever felt this, such an absolutely pure and transcendental love, you’re sure they would be believers too. That sudden click within you, the truth, potential embers of love suddenly stoked by the universe into a roaring flame, it’s not something you could fabricate. 

You watch as Yunho nods, almost pushing himself towards saying whatever it is, and you think to yourself that no matter how awful this week has been, anyone would be lucky to find a soulmate as good and kind as he is. 

“It’s me,” You murmur when he nods to himself again, “it’s just me,” 

“I know,” He sighs, “fuck, okay, I’ll just say it,” 

You watch him shake out his arms and take a deep breath before running a hand through his hair, finally facing you again properly and taking your hands in his. 

Anxiety knots in your stomach and you’re not sure if it's his or yours. 

“This is going to sound like a crazy idea,” He smiles a little nervously, “but I promise you I’ve thought about it, a lot actually, and this isn’t as impulsive as it’s going to sound, I promise,” 

“Yunho,” You can feel the nervous energy pouring out of him, “I trust you, just,” 

“Marry me,” He says in a breath, his hands coming up to catch your cheeks, “be mine in every way, be my wife.” 

Your words die off on your lips, your heart beating harder in your chest. In a million years, you never would have thought that was the question on his tongue, “Y-Yunho,”  

His smile widens at your shocked expression, but his thoughts keep pouring out, “We’ll have a wedding later, anything you want, as big as you want,” he says, “but come to the district office with me tomorrow. Marry me tomorrow,” 

Words don’t make it to your lips, but tears flood your eyes and you just can’t stop yourself from smiling.

Yunho leans in and kisses your forehead, “Please,” he murmurs, “they can choose not to believe the bond is real, but they can’t doubt a marriage license,” 

Your frantic heart stutters, and you wince. 

“We’ll be together,” He continues, another kiss against your hairline before he leans back to look at your face. 

You reach up, catching his hands and bringing them to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles, “Baby,” you murmur softly, “I love you, but I want you to want to marry me for the right reasons, not because we’re backed into a corner.” 

His eyes widen as he realizes his words, “That isn’t what I meant,” 

“Okay,” You nod slowly, pushing him to say more. 

Yunho laces your fingers together and gives you a squeeze, “When we renegotiate on Monday, whatever happens will happen, but people are going to find out about us,” 

You nod. 

“It’s only a matter of time, the more people that know, the faster it will get out there for everyone to see, for everyone to pull it apart.” 

He’s not wrong, not at all. 

“I know,” You nod.

“Jagi,” His voice is low, rough with emotion, “I want you safe. I want you to be able to come back to work, I don’t want you to make yourself smaller because I’m an idol.” 

You kiss his knuckles again, breathing out a shaky sigh. 

“I love you so much, and I want to be with you in every way. I want everyone to know who you are to me, and I want them to know there is no me anymore without you. Not at this company, in public, in private, it’s us,” He presses. 

You soften at that.

“Let me give you my name,” He murmurs, “let me love you the way you deserve. Marry me, y/n, please,” 

For the briefest moment, you think there isn’t a person alive who’s fighting harder for their soulmate than him, you feel that truth in every inch of your body. 

It doesn’t change the facts though, you’ve done all the research, you’ve seen what a mere whisper of romance will do to a career, to a public opinion of an idol and their partner. 

“Yunho,” You manage quietly, “there are no married idols, not our age. Think about your career, the group,” 

“Then let’s go first,” He says, uncoupling your hands and cupping your cheeks again, his face determined, “someone has to. If not us, then who?” 

You think of the airport floor, of screaming fans, of posts online full of hate. 

“I don’t want to wait for someone else to get up the nerve,” He insists, “I want you,” 

Your eyes flood with tears. 

“We’ll do it together,” He murmurs, wiping away a stray tear with the soft pad of his thumb. 

“Yunho,” You whisper. 

“I don’t have a single regret about meeting you and I have no shame in loving you,” He confesses, “the only thing that would break my heart is knowing that I’m hurting you.” 

Tears spill over, faster now as you take in his words. 

His brow creases at your tears, his own eyes shining, “Sweetheart, you’re not meant to be an afterthought to my career,” his voice cracks gently, “you’re my partner, and I would risk everything I am for you,” 

You know he means it, in each and every cell of his body. Some men would have buckled under all this pressure, would cling to their fame and their want to have both, and you know exactly where you would have ended up. Packaged away, made small, fearful of your own day to day life. Would today be the day you were photographed and exposed or would it be the next? Lies upon lies.

Even the strongest bond could buckle under all that weight.

You think of KQ’s attorney, smugly boasting about how he’s dealt with bonded couples before. Your gut feeling all those months ago was right, you aren’t the first idol soulmate bonds, but if you’re brave enough you can be the loudest. You can change things for the next couple, and the next after that. 

You think of Hana’s fear, how she stood up to your parents and chose Em despite it all. 

Your answer bubbles up from deep inside, “O-okay,” you say in a rushed breath, nodding, “okay, let’s get married,” 

He exhales sharply, a wide grin spreading over his face, a relieved laugh on his lips as tears track down his cheeks, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You told yourself once before that you would hold onto him with both hands, so you do, “yes, Yunho, yes,” 

He folds you into his arms and then hoists you up, hitching your legs around his waist and pressing his lips to yours in another, tender kiss. 

You’re a mess of emotions, both of you hidden away in this little conference room, but you’re together. 

After a moment though, a thought occurs to you and you break the kiss, “Did everyone know you were asking me?” 

His cheeks grow pink, “Define everyone,” 

Your eyes widen, your voice running high, “What if I had said no?”

“I was really, really hoping you’d say yes?” He grins. 

“Everyone knew,” You bury your face in his neck, heat blooming in your cheeks and chest. 

“Hey,” His hand runs up and down your back, “really, it’s just my parents and the members, and I guess our attorney, but if you said no that would have been okay, I swear, I would have just proposed again when you felt ready, it’s not,” 

You laugh into his shoulder and shake your head, “I’m not upset,” 

“You’re not?” He turns, his cheek resting against the top of your head. 

“A little overwhelmed,” You admit, “and embarrassed that I met my future in-laws wearing a hoodie and looking like I just spent the past week crying my eyes out, but,” 

“Hey,” He murmurs, “look at me,” 

With a slow breath in, you lift your head and meet his eyes. 

“I love you,” He says clearly, “they already love you too, they’re happy for me.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” He says, unequivocally. 

“What do the members think of this plan?” You ask him quietly. 

“They understand why I want this,” He replies smoothly, “and what it means for all of us,” 

You nod, and there’s nothing more to say. You trust him, so you trust this. 

“Let me take you home,” He finally says, “it’s late, and we have to be up early now,” 

“To get married,” The words sound so strange on your tongue. 

“Yeah,” he smiles, “to get married,” 

“God,” You laugh, “I have to tell Hana and Em,” 

“I have to tell everyone you said yes,” He presses a peck to your lips before he lets you slide down from his arms, “and what time to get to the district office tomorrow,” 

“I want Hana there,” You grab his hand. 

He nods, lacing your fingers together, “Of course,” he says, “let’s get in the car, we’ll call her on the way home I’ll make sure she has everything she needs,” 

“Okay,” You breathe.

Quietly, you slip out of the now empty offices and make your way to Yunho’s car. Your head feels like it’s spinning, your soon-to-be-husband’s hand in yours is the only thing keeping you grounded. 

You tell your sister in a fresh wave of happy tears as the car weaves through the blocks of Seoul. 

You listen as Yunho tells her every detail of how to get to the district office,  what time, and what false name to give at the front desk so they’ll take her back to the right office. 

Your eyes can’t help but find the clock, your heart picking up, in less than twelve hours you’ll be his. 

───────────────────────── ✧₊⁺───────────────────────

For the first time in weeks, you wake up warm. 

The room around you is unfamiliar, but his body is solid and comforting, his leg hitched up over your hips and pinning you in place like a weighted blanket. If he wasn’t here, draped over you, it’s possible you would have thought the night before was a dream. The long anxious drive, the way you felt when you first saw him again, and all the paperwork, all the plans. 

Lying on your back you study the ceiling as the first threads of early morning light start to stretch through his room, Yunho’s voice asking you to marry him playing on a loop in your mind. 

You’re not sure how long you’ve been thinking, but his gentle fingers on your jaw softly directing your face to the side is what brings you out of your head and back to the present. 

“Hey,” You say softly when you meet his eyes, “did I wake you?” 

A small smile spreads across his face and he shakes his head, “Mm-mm,” he murmurs, “you okay?” 

“Yeah,” You nod, “just thinking,” 

He shifts in the covers, body curling around you even more until you’re properly eye to eye in the middle of the mattress, “About?” 

“Everything,” You confess, “yesterday doesn’t feel real,” 

He hums thoughtfully, cupping your cheek, “I know what you mean,” 

You let out a slow breath, rolling towards him, “Did I make up the part where we’re getting married today?” 

He grins, a little blush in his cheeks, “No, you didn’t make that up,” 

A nervous thrill bubbles through you, “This is so crazy,” 

“Maybe,” He says, covering your hand with his, “are you still saying yes?” 

“Yes,” The word leaves your lips before you can even process his question. 

He dips forwards, kissing you tenderly before he laughs softly and pulls away.

“What?” You smile up at him. 

“I just realized something,” He says with a smile. 

“Hmm?” 

“In a few hours, you’ll actually be my wife,” He grins wider. 

You laugh, a nervous, elated sound, excitement and anticipation spreading through you in equal measure, and you shift forwards to catch his lips in a kiss, “Husband,” you murmur, “that suits you,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” You nuzzle into him, pecking his lips again, “my husband,” 

He nudges you gently, nose to nose, his plush mouth to yours as he lazily kisses you, savoring every breath, “I like that,” 

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you pull yourself closer, deepening the kiss before disconnecting your lips for a breath, “Are you sure I’m not dreaming?” 

“Not dreaming,” You can feel the upturned curve of his mouth as he kisses you again, rolling you onto your back as he slides his hands up your sides. 

You sigh pleasantly, body softening, “I missed you,” 

He nods, “Me too, baby,” 

“Married,” You laugh softly again, looking up into his deep brown eyes, “are we ready for this?” 

He studies your expression and then replies, “Probably not,” 

You blink, not expecting such blatant honesty, but he continues.

 “But,” He kisses you again, gently, “all the best things that have ever happened to me, happened when I didn’t think I was ready,” 

He’s right, it’s the same for you. You were hardly ready for him that day in Berlin, but nothing in the world would ever make you go back and give that up. 

You nod, sinking back into his kiss, your legs tangling together under the duvet. 

He makes a soft, happy hum against your mouth and slides his hand up to find your hand, lacing your fingers together. 

His hand in yours sparks something in your brain and you pull back with a little suck of air, your eyes widening, “We don’t even have rings,” 

He laughs, pecking your lips, and then leans back, “Actually,” he rolls off you, his expression suddenly a little sheepish, “we do,” 

That gets your attention, and you lift up your head to get a better look at him, “We do?” 

“Yeah,” He smiles, sliding away from you in the bed and leaning over the edge to pull the drawer of his nightstand open, “I meant to show you last night,” 

Your stomach does a somersault. 

When Yunho rolls back, he’s holding a small slate blue velvet box. You can see the box is vintage immediately, the velvet worn away on the corners and the front clasp an intricate brass clip, something companies wouldn’t bother manufacturing as nicely as this nowadays. 

“Oh,” You breathe. 

He places the box on the bed between you and takes a breath, “They’re simple,” he says, “I’ll get you an engagement ring later, but, well, these were my grandparents,” 

Your eyes flick up to his face, the tenderness in his expression hitting you right in the chest, and then you gingerly pick up the box and flip open the front clasp. He’s right, they are simple, but the delicate details of the two white gold bands aren’t lost on you in the slightest. His band is slightly wider, but both of them are etched with little stars, a few of the stars encrusted with tiny diamonds. 

“Oh, Yunho,” You sigh, your fingers gently tracing the rings, “they’re so beautiful,” 

“They’re very special to me,” He nods. 

You reach for his hand, “Is this why your parents are here? Did they bring these?” 

His lips close in a thin line, the tips of his ears reddening, “Not exactly,” 

“Not exactly or,” 

He looks down at the box, cleaning his throat, “I’ve had them,” 

For a moment you think he means that his grandparents left him the rings, that they’ve been in his possession the entire time, but you feel the start of his embarrassment through the bond. 

“Baby,” You murmur, “how long have you had them?” 

He smiles briefly and then sighs, looking up at you, “Since Paris,” 

Your eyes widen. 

“After we talked that night on the bridge,” He brushes your cheek, “I called my parents and told them I met you. I told them I wanted to have these for when it felt right,” 

You melt, “You grandparents were soulmates?” 

He nods, “Yes, they were together for sixty years,” 

“That’s beautiful,” You murmur. You wonder what it must have been like to grow up in a household full of that much love. 

“I want that for us,” Yunho says honestly. 

All you can do is nod, emotion thrumming in your chest. 

“God,” You grin, dipping into his broad chest with a laugh, “we’re so crazy, but I love you so much,” 

He chuckles and wraps you up again, “Me too,” 

“For today,” You say against his shoulder, “let’s just pretend everything is normal,” 

“What do you mean?” He looks down at you. 

“For today, you’re not an idol,” You smile, “we’re just us. We’re just two people in love,” 

He smiles at you tenderly, “Just us,” 

With your hand on the back of his neck you pull him down to meet your kiss, sinking into each other. In the early morning light  you kiss like the past week was a dream, no fear or doubt, just each other. Nothing hanging over your heads except the promise of a life together. 

Yunho shifts over you, dipping you back into the mattress, deepening the kisses with his tongue languidly probing your mouth. You sigh, your body feeling pleasant and warm, the first threads of your want and his starting to tangle together between you. 

Yunho’s hand tightens on your hip as he shifts over you a little more, the weight of him above you making you dizzy, and he hums happily, “I missed these lips,” 

“Mm,” Your fingers tighten in his hair, “me too,” 

“Missed you under me,” His kisses peck across your jaw and back to your swollen lips. 

A pulse of arousal beats inside you, but you shake your head. 

“So pretty,” He murmurs, hands searching your skin. 

As much as you want him, you push gently against his chest, “We have to get ready,” 

“We have time,” He nuzzles you, nipping your lip. 

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head again, your lips still locked to his. 

Yunho’s hand slides up your body slowly until he’s cupping your breast, squeezing you a little suggestively and brushing his thumb over your hardening nipple.

Warmth blooms in your belly, but you pull back and shake your head, “Yunho, we’re getting married in like two hours,” 

He grins, “I know,” 

You laugh, “I mean, traditionally we wouldn’t even see each other the morning of the wedding, we really shouldn’t be having sex,” 

Yunho looks at the clock, “How long do you need to get ready?” 

“At least an hour,” 

“Then we have fifteen minutes,” Yunho meets your eyes, a cheeky look on his face. 

You sigh, about to protest, but then his thumb passes over your lips. 

“No sex,” He agrees, “but you’re here in my bed, and I haven’t touched you like this in weeks. Let me take care of you,” 

Your core flutters, nipples hardening and pebbling through your shirt. 

He takes in the change in your expression and nods, “That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down your body and tucking between your thighs to push them open. 

You let your legs fall slack, your breath warm against his cheek. 

“Missed you so much,” He presses a kiss to your forehead as his fingers travel slowly up your inner thigh to the seam of your underwear. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

“Just stay nice and quiet for me, okay?” He shifts, his body sliding down in the bed as he slots between your thighs. 

“Yun,” You murmur, “what about you?” 

“Shh,” He tugs your underwear to the side, wasting no time getting his mouth on you. 

You gasp at the sudden connection of his tongue to your clit, your hips jerking. 

He glances up from between your splayed legs, giving you a look, and you slap your hand over your mouth in response, letting your head fall back into the mattress. 

“Mmhm,” He hums. 

You melt into the pleasure of his mouth. 

It takes thirty minutes, your bodies so hungry for one another that one orgasm isn’t enough. He worships you with his tongue, makes love to your cunt with his hot mouth, and by the second dizzying wave of pleasure you’re quietly begging to touch him too. The clock forgotten as you stroke him to his own release, the taste of yourself on his lips as he kisses you into the sheets. 

You’re a giggling mess by the end, frantically trying to get ready between needy touches. After your lightning fast showers, you’re making the most of every second, but he just can’t keep himself away from you. 

He kisses your neck while you apply your makeup, squeezes every plush inch of your skin while you root through your suitcase for something to wear. When you’re finally ready, he kisses you again, hot and hard, nearly toppling you back into the bed and ruining your perfectly applied lipstick. 

The moment he gets the text from his brother though, he sobers and gets himself together, the ring box tucked safely in his pants pocket. 

You quell the dizzying heat between you with a cool glass of water, and by the time you’re walking to the car, all of this morning is forgotten in a haze of nervous energy. 

The trip to the district office is strategic, both of you wearing hats and masks and scarves for a good measure of anonymity as you travel covertly in Gunho’s car to keep things as quiet as possible. At the district office, the doors open for you once you arrive, and it dawns on you that the offices aren’t properly open to the public yet. 

You distantly imagined a courtroom and a judge, perhaps one dedicated to weddings, but you’re ushered into a modest office with a kind looking older woman who tells you both to take a seat like it’s any other meeting. 

It turns out, when you don’t have a wedding dress or a big party, marriage is mostly paperwork. 

Yunho’s family stands behind his chair, and Hana and Em stand behind yours. 

You’re her first appointment of the day, early at only eight in the morning, and your district officiant offers you a cup of coffee before you sign yourself to each other in the eyes of the Republic. 

“Ah,” Ms. Kim, the officiant, says with a laugh that says this happens all the time, “this is the wrong form, let me print off the right copy,” 

Your chest feels tight, your palms suddenly clammy. 

“This is the 609C,” She explains, gesturing to the paper in her hands, “but this is for divorcees, I need the 609A for you two,” 

Yunho makes an affirmative sound, laughing along with the bureaucratic mix up, but you can only crack a smile. 

Ms. Kim navigates to the file on her ancient computer, adjusts her glasses and leans closer to the screen, and then nods before hitting print. 

“Alright,” She says, “let’s get you two married, yes?” 

That lightens the mood a little, and you release the taut breath in your chest. Hana squeezes your shoulder, and you rest your hand over hers for just a moment. 

Fishing the paper out of the printer, she checks the form’s number, nods, and then leans forward, “Bride, you fill in the top sections here and here,” she points out with a pen where to look, “and groom, you’re down here.” 

“And then?” You say as Yunho takes the paper and starts to skim through it. 

“I’ll take a copy of your documents, you’ll sign the bottom of the form, one of each of your witnesses will also sign, and then I’ll sign,” She recites, “I’ll stamp it with my very official seal, and then that’s it. You’ll be legally married,” 

“That’s easier than I thought it would be,” You manage. 

“Getting married is the easy part,” she smiles, “getting divorced has a lot more paperwork, I don’t recommend it.” 

Everyone chuckles at that. 

“Okay,” Yunho grins, picking up the black pen, “let’s do this.” 

“If you’ll provide your birth certificates and identification cards, I’ll just go get those photocopied while you fill things in. Wait to sign until I get back,” 

You produce the documents from your bag and pass them over to her, and then within a moment you’re alone with this form and your new family. 

Yunho takes his time writing things out to keep the form legible, and you lean forward to see, “What does it ask?” 

Without glancing up from the paper, Yunho reaches with his free hand, resting it on your knee and giving you a comforting squeeze, “The basics, nationality, family names,” he murmurs, “it’s alright,” 

He can feel your bubble of anxiety, from all your witnesses watching to the strange sense of dread that you might get something wrong on the form. 

You rest your hands on his, “Sorry,” you breathe, “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” 

Yunho turns, but his mother speaks first, surprising you all, “Yesterday morning you had no idea you were getting married,” she points out, “I had months to prepare for our wedding and I was still a nervous wreck,” 

“You were?” The words slip out. 

She nods warmly, “I was, but you’ll do fine,” 

Yunho smiles and slides the paper to you, “Your turn,” 

He rests his hand on our back as you fill in the form, and it’s hardly as scary as it seemed a moment ago. You fill in your details, double check that you both didn’t miss any boxes, and by the time you’re done Ms. Kim is back and your nervousness has started to morph into excitement. 

You’re a few signatures away from being a wife. 

You had never really imagined that for yourself, not in the way that other little girls did. You’ve never picked out dresses, or thought of your dream venue. You don’t know what kind of engagement ring would look best or if you’d want to write your own vows. You had never let yourself dream that far ahead, always stunted by your parents' sharp expectations and your own inability to slow down and let yourself picture something better, happier than their marriage. But now, in the span of a few hours, you’re about to be someone’s wife.

“Ready?” Ms. Kim says, handing back your documents, “Let me take a look at things,” 

She skims the form with precision and then clips it to the front of your photocopied documents, and for the first time in your life, the thought of being married doesn’t fill you with panic. 

You slip your hand into Yunho’s, a smile tugging at your lips, and Yunho gives you a squeeze. 

“Perfect,” Ms. Kim says, “now, if you’d like, we can get those signatures and be done, but some couples like to say a few words and exchange rings if you have any. I’d be happy to talk you through that,” 

“We have rings,” Yunho reaches into his trouser pocket and produces the velvet box. 

His mother presses a handkerchief to her lips, and you see both of his parents’ eyes shining with tears. 

Ms. Kim nods warmly, “So, please face each other,” 

Yunho stands, drawing you up with him, and you face each other in the little space between the chairs. He’s handsome today, in a way that nearly stops your heart, dressed simply in dark charcoal gray trousers and a white button down, his dark black hair still a little tousled from his cap. He looks right for a wedding, and selfishly, you think he looks right for you too. 

“If you have any words for each other,” She prompts gently. 

You take Yunho’s hands, giving him a soft squeeze before dropping them, and then you turn to his parents, “Mr. and Mrs. Jeong,” you feel your throat tighten with emotion, but you continue, “I will never be able to thank you enough for raising Yunho,” 

His father wraps an arm around his wife. 

“For giving him the kindest home, the warmest love,” 

You hear a sniffle behind you, no doubt Hana crying. 

“You taught him to be a good man, and a good partner,” You continue, the honesty of it flowing out of you, “and I will work hard to deserve his love for the rest of my life, thank you,” 

You bow as deeply as you can in the small space, and they thank you softly, the weight of the makeshift ceremony finally sinking into everyone. 

When you turn back to Yunho, he’s hastily wiping away his tears. 

Your parents aren’t here, and even if they were you wouldn’t expect him to do more than a short, perfunctory statement, so you glance towards Ms. Kim, “Alright,” 

“Wait,” Yunho shakes his head, “hold on, my turn,” 

Ms. Kim laughs quietly, and so do your witnesses. 

Yunho holds your gaze, taking your hands in his. “y/n,” he exhales a deep breath, gathering himself, and then he speaks, “I can’t thank your parents for making you the woman that you are today, I think you did that all on your own, but I do have someone to thank.” 

Your throat closes with emotion as he turns to your baby sister. 

“Hana,” He smiles, eyes shining again, “from the first moment y/n talked about you, I knew your relationship was a special one. I am so grateful to you for being her sister, her friend, and her safe place.” 

Hana takes in a sharp, wet breath behind you and you smile. 

“We may not have it easy,” He continues, squeezing your hands, “but I know you will always be standing beside her, and I hope you know that I’m doing my best to live by what you said,” 

Tears track down your cheeks.

“I’m putting her first,” He smiles, “today and always,” 

He bows deeply, and when he rises up you’re both crying.

There’s a moment of silence while you collect yourselves, but sensing that the speeches are over, Ms. Kim interjects. 

“Yunho,” She says softly, “do you promise to take y/n as your lawfully wedded wife?” 

His eyes flick to yours, and you feel nothing but warmth and overwhelming love coursing through the bond, “I promise.” 

“y/n,” She turns to you, “do you promise to take Yunho as your lawfully wedded husband?” 

“I promise,” You nod. 

“Please exchange rings,” She says. 

Yunho takes the box and gently pulls out his grandmother’s ring. 

Slowly, he slides it onto your left ring finger, “I love you,” 

You take his grandfather’s ring from the box and follow him, the band slipping into place on his finger, “I love you too,” 

“If you’ll both sign,” Ms. Kim places the paper back down on the desk with a pen, “you’ll be married,” 

Yunho turns, his smile widening as he writes out his signature. In a haze of dizzy elation, you sign your name too. 

“Congratulations,” She says, “you’re husband and wife.” 

A giddy laugh bubbles from your lips, and without a moment’s hesitation or thought of anyone else in the world, he pulls you into his chest and dips low to capture your lips in a kiss. You can feel him smiling against your mouth, feel his overwhelming happiness, and you rest a hand over his heart, his soulmark. 

When you break apart, you realize everyone’s clapping, and you hide in Yunho’s chest for a moment before stepping away and facing the room. 

Hana barrels into you, squeezing you tightly. 

“Han!” You laugh. 

“That was a good speech,” She says, but it’s not to you.

”I meant it,” Yunho says. 

Hana nods, but Ms. Kim interrupts once more.

“Last bit of paperwork,” She says, “I need two witnesses to sign off,” 

Yunho pulls Gunho forwards and Hana unwraps herself from around you so they can both step up and sign. 

“We’ll get these filed today,” Ms. Kim adds, “I got the check for the expedition fee, so you should be able to pick the official license up on Friday at the front clerk’s office,” 

“That’s perfect,” Yunho nods, “thank you for agreeing to that,”

She smiles, a little knowingly, “It’s not the first time we’ve gotten the request from someone famous,” 

Yunho clears his throat, “Right, well, we’d prefer to,” 

“Ah,” She holds up a hand, “my lips are sealed. If you only knew the couples I’ve had in this office,” 

You smile, “Oh?” 

She takes the paperwork back and adds her own signature and stamp, “I could cast a reality show of my own,” she nods, and then makes the motion of zipping her lips closed, “but you’d never hear the details from me,” 

“Thank you,” Yunho says earnestly, “for everything.” 

“Mhm,” She smiles, “now, there’s a back entrance to the building if you’d like some privacy,” she checks her watch, “now that the building is open, if you go right out of this office and down the stairs to the garage.” 

“Thank you,” 

“Of course,” She nods as you all get your facemasks and hats, “congratulations again, you both have the real thing. Make sure to cherish it,” 

Looking up at Yunho, you soften, “We will.” 

The rest of the day is what you can only describe as a whirlwind. 

Yunho’s parents have arranged a private lunch, just family, and you spend hours getting to know them better and being quietly celebrated as a couple, even though you still maintain your distance in case anyone from the restaurant or on the street recognizes him. 

By the evening, you’re spent. A few glasses of wine combined with the crash after a week of drawn out stress leaves you feeling a strange mix of wired and exhausted. 

Quietly, Yunho communicates to his manager that he won’t be coming home tonight, but that he will be back on Sunday and ready for work. 

Hana and Em leave early to pick up their things from your apartment and check into a hotel, promising to stay close for the next few days as whatever unfolds, unfolds. 

When Gunho drops you both off at your apartment building, you slip into the elevator without seeing another soul despite the early hour. 

The hallway to your door is blissfully empty too. 

You trade little glances with him, strange newness to the sensation of him beside you. 

Your body thrums in the anticipation of being properly alone with him again. 

You key in your door code, fingers trembling with anticipation as you push over the threshold. 

The door is still swinging shut when Yunho yanks you into his arms, stumbling into the mirrored sliding closet door in your entryway, lips crashing onto yours, tongue dipping into your mouth to deepen it as your back flattens against the cool mirror. 

You fold into him, the bond between you hot and humming, and you moan against his lips. 

“God,” He clings to you, arms banded tight around you as he dives in for another kiss. 

Arousal pumps through you, and you suck in a sharp breath as your fingers pull at the buttons of his dress shirt, “Need you,” 

He nods, kicking his shoes off without missing a beat and walking you a little deeper into your apartment until he’s pushing you onto the kitchen counter. 

Your fingers drop from his shirt to his belt, tugging at the leather until it’s free, your eyes glued to the clear hardness straining through his dress pants. 

“Fuck,” He curses as your palm coasts over his clothed cock, and his hands push up the length of your silky dark green skirt, fabric pooling around your waist as he caresses your bare thighs.

You moan, both of you breathing heavily, the only sounds in the room your shared, heady pants and the zipper of his trousers as tug it down to free his cock. 

He pulls your thong down over your legs, letting them hang slack around one ankle, and pushes your thighs open wider. His fingers slide up your thigh and brush against the bare lips of your sex, but your head is pulsing with need, an ache so real you feel like you might scream if you don’t feel him in you, and you push his arm away. 

“Inside me,” Your hands anchor on his hips and you drag him forwards, “please,” 

He groans, the bare head of his cock nudging your soft center, “Let me make you come first,” 

You shake your head, “Can’t wait,” 

He swallows tightly, his hands hard on your hips as you angle yourself on the counter, opening up wider to him. 

“Mm,” He bites back a moan as his cock slides over you, “w-wait, I need to prep you,” 

You surge forwards, capturing his mouth and shaking your head, “No you don’t,” you pant, “please, just fuck me,” 

He chokes against you, a shudder through his whole body at the feeling of your raw need, and with a groan on both your lips, you feel his velvet cockhead catch deliciously on your entrance. 

“Baby,” He breathes, his last soft protest, resolve crumbling. 

Your fingers hitch onto his belt loops and pull him in again, his cock pushing inside you just an inch from his slight shift forwards. Your nails skate down his neck, your body trembling with need, “Please,” 

With a soft curse, his hips snap forward at the same time as his wide hands tug your hips towards him, spearing you open on the full length of his thick cock. You gasp against his mouth, he’s stretching you wide, and while it’s not painful it is an aching adjustment and your fingers grip down on him tightly. 

Yunho groans, a hot pant on your skin, “God, fuck, jagiya,” 

His forehead drops to yours, your bodies connected in every possible way, but you stay still together, just feeling each other and adjusting to the sudden sink of him inside you. But your body needs him, and in a moment you feel yourself slicking up and clenching around him. 

This time, he doesn’t wait for you to ask, doesn’t wait for you to beg. Fully in tune with you and your body, he moves. With one hand cupping your hip and the other holding your head, he starts to thrust, firm snaps of his hips that drag his hot length against every needy, aching spot inside you. 

Pleasure arcs up your spine with each rhythmic connection of his hips to yours, until you both lose yourself to deep, insatiable need. 

Your legs hitch onto his hips, your flats slipping off your feet and clattering to the floor, “H-harder,” 

His breath catches, but his body complies, forehead hard against yours as he drives into you again and again. 

“Ah,” His nails dig into your hip, “god,” 

“Y-Yunho,” You moan, head dropping back into his hand. 

Your combined pleasure starts to meld, after days of separation and weeks of not being able to touch like this, he feels your orgasm starting to build at the same time you feel his, and it spurns you both into frantic jerks of your bodies, needy moans. 

“C-close,” You whine. 

“Yes, yes,” He grits his teeth and groans, pumping into you, a sheen of sweat across his skin. 

One of your hands slips off his shoulders to brace yourself on the counter, heels digging into his back, and your orgasm crests over you in a sudden uncontrollable wave, fast and unexpected. 

You gasp sharply, nearly losing your hold on him, and he moans as the pleasure takes him under alongside you. Collapsing forwards, he rocks you back onto the counter, bracing himself fast with a hand against the backsplash to keep you from falling back into the tile, and with two more sharp thrusts he spills his release deep inside you, his cockhead pressed hard against your fluttering cervix as your walls spasm around him. 

You’re both sweaty, half dressed and a mess, eyes locked on each other as you breathe through one of the most intense orgasms of your life. 

“Oh my god,” You manage, voice hoarse. 

His chest is still heaving, heart hammering, but he grins and flicks his head to move the dark hair that has fallen into his eyes, “Y-you okay?” 

“Uh-huh,” Your legs finally start to relax off the anchor points of his hips, your muscles weak. 

“Love you so much,” He says in a single, sated breath. 

You nod, your smile spreading wide. 

Slowly, he straightens up and draws you back up to a seated position, easing his cock out of your wet center with deliberate slowness. 

You hiss at the sensation change, your hips sore from being spread so wide open and taken so roughly, but the hurt is deeply satisfying after so long apart. 

“Are you,” He starts to say. 

“Can we go to bed?” You interrupt, relaxing onto his broad shoulder. 

“Let’s go,” He rights his trousers just enough so that they’re not falling down his hips, and then he pulls you into his arms, “are you sore?” 

“Only a little,” You assure him, still breathless, as he starts to take the stairs, “the bed’s softer than the counter,” 

“Mm,” his hand cups your ass, kneading the soft flesh, “I’ll kiss it better,” 

You smile against his chest, his skin radiating warmth through the fabric of his dress shirt. 

At the top of the landing he drops his head to avoid your low ceiling, and then walks you back to the bed, gently placing you on the edge of your mattress before dropping down to his knees between your splayed legs. 

Yunho cups your cheek, kissing you tenderly and smoothing your hair back over your shoulder, “So beautiful,” he says, almost to himself.

You soften. 

He leans back to get a look at you, his hands slowly tugging your black shirt out from the top of your silk skirt, pushing the fabric up to reveal the plane of your abdomen, your soulmark, the underside of your bare breasts. 

You ease back on your hands, letting him touch you how he likes, his eyes studying your body as he reveals inches of skin. 

Sinking back onto his heels, he pushes your skirt up around your hips, his lips, swollen from starving kisses, part at the sight of you half dressed and full of him. 

Yunho’s hand passes over your thigh, the top of your sex, resting on your stomach as he looks up to meet your eyes, “My pretty wife,” he says softly. 

The air feels thin, and you feel almost dizzy at his attentions, the sweet praise of his words. 

You expect him to touch you more, strip you bare, devour you whole, but he looks at you with something you can only describe as awe, and takes a shuddering breath. 

On his knees for you, he gives you a tender confession, “I’m yours,” he whispers, “you know that right?” 

Yours. 

His letter echoes in your mind. 

“I know,” You murmur.

“No matter what happens,” He takes your left hand, pressing a kiss over the ring, “you’ve changed me, forever, and I’m yours,” 

He breathes into your skin, and you brush your other hand over his hair, “Yunho, I’m yours too,” 

He nods, head still bowed. 

Emotion bubbles up in you, and you cup his cheeks, drawing his eyes up to your face, “Baby,” 

There’s something in him you can feel but you can’t name, a guarded tightness, some kind of anxiety in the shadow of his heart. 

He looks at you and waits, a little crease between his brows. 

He’s told you every way he loves you, and you need him to know the same. 

“I married you today because I want you, forever,” You swear to him, this more of a vow than your promise and shaky signature, “I didn’t marry you for the contracts, or my job, or because you asked.” 

He swallows, his throat bobbing as he listens, really listens to your words. 

“I belong to you,” 

He blinks away a sheen of tears. 

“Our bond, our marriage,” Your fingers brush over his face, ghosting over his lips, his jaw, “I’m here, I’m fighting for you too. I’m yours too, in every way that you’ll ever have me,” 

His breath hitches. 

You pull him in, drawing him closer, “Make love to me again,” 

He sighs, the last piece of his guarded tension falling away. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, “Yunho, please,” you kiss him softly, “love me again,” 

You tumble back into the sheets, his kisses reverent on your skin, his touch gentle. 

“My baby,” He sighs, lips traveling down your neck, “my love,” 

You sink into the sensation of him, one body, one living soul. 

“My wife,” he says softly, like a prayer. 

You answer him with your body, with the untethered openness of the bond. Together you move, connected once more, rocking into one another with slow, deliberate motion. 

One breath passed between you, slipped from his lungs to yours and back as you move together. 

Dizzy sensation, an echo of your first time together, of your bonding. 

Here, in every way, your story begins. 

______________________________________________________________ end note: as i mentioned at the top, one thing i wanted to mention without spoiling was around the idea of marriage/weddings. in my research i found out that korean weddings are pretty different to american weddings, or at least what i'm used to, but i also didn't want to overly assume customs or traditions and get it wrong. what i went with was a bit of a blend to keep things semi-accurate but lean romantic. i.e. it's a 'district office' not a courthouse, but i actually don't know what those weddings are like outside of some youtube videos i watched from the pov of foreigners marrying a korean-born person, which may have unique aspects just because of immigration. as far as the vows, i did find that korean vows more accurately translate to "I promise" rather than "I do", which i went with, and it's more common (according to reddit threads and google and like three weddings i watched on youtube lol) to thank your partner's parents for raising them vs. custom vows to one another. i found some inconsistencies on whether or not women in korea take their husband's last names and also generally some mixed information about other customs, so i kept it simple and romantic. if you're korean or more familiar with those customs, please suspend a bit of disbelief for me on this one, i'm doing my best.

lastly, if you're interested, i wanted to note the kind of tea blend that em prepared for reader was actually specifically chosen, and is a real tea blend that i have irl. i picture em slightly green-witchy, so i thought this might be a fun tidbit to share;

holy basil for purification, luck, and banishing negative energy lemongrass for open lines of communication and emotional cleansing dandelion root for resilience, growth, and transformation nettle for banishing unwanted energy and protection of the spirit ginkgo leaf for promoting longevity of the mind, body, and soul

[potatoplace]

Forever

The Afterthought: Chapter 7 | series masterlist

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

chapter 6 | chapter 8 | ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Summary: The day after your first date is spent gossiping with Mor, being gently harassed by your coworkers over your new relationship, and with the male you want to spend your future with.

Warnings: slightly shitty Rhys mention, I honestly don't think there's anything else!

Words: ~5.5k

Author's Note: god DAMN did it take me forever to get this one out 😭 I'm glad I can finally deliver some good fackin food! (Not that I haven't loved working on all my other fics lol) Loooots of cute fluffiness in this chapter, I hope you guys like it!! 🫶 Title from the Chelsea Cutler song

18+ only pls

🤍💙💘💙🤍

You’d just taken off you makeup and cleansed your skin when a letter from Mor showed up with a soft pop on your kitchen table.

You managed to decipher it after a minute on your own, something that you were immensely proud of. Her perfect handwriting read:

How did the date go?? Where did you go for dinner? What did you talk about? Did he kiss you?? Tell me everything, write back on this paper and once you fold it, it will send itself back to me! - Love, Mor

Your nose wrinkled as you thought about writing her back, your own penmanship far more clumsy, even with how much you had been practicing. But you did anyways, not wanting to disappoint your friend.

It was perfect, we went to an Illyrian restaurant for dinner. HE KISSED ME!! Can you come over at 7 to talk? - Love you, Y/N

Your fingers carefully folded the paper along the crease once more, and watched with amazement as it vanished from your hands immediately.

Less than a minute later the paper returned, Mor having written: YES! I’ll bring breakfast and YOU can tell me everything!

You giggled to yourself, so unbelievably happy to have not only a friend who cared about your romantic life, but also having a romantic life! With Azriel no less!

At the sound of your laughter, M’aiq ran over and brushed against your leg, meowing loudly for food. You’d fed her dinner before you left for your date, but here she was, screaming at you like she was starved. “Silly girly, you have to wait until morning,” you said as you bent down to pick her up, her tiny claws catching slightly on your nightgown. She meowed at you with all her might as you cradled her in your arms, her tiny paws resting on your hand as you pet her tummy. “You’re very cute and very mighty, and I’m tempted to feed you more because of that. But you’ll be fine, I promise.” You nuzzled your nose against her cheek, listening to her purr. “Or are you asking me how the date was?” She purred louder at that suggestions, and you giggled again. “Okay, I’ll tell you about it,” You said as you sat in your armchair, letting the roaring fire keep you warm as you gushed to M’aiq about the date, petting her tiny head and tummy all the while.

Eventually, though, you forced yourself from the chair and into your bed, carefully setting a sleeping M’aiq onto the pillow next to yours that had become quickly become hers.

You fell asleep snuggled into the blankets, one hand still placed on M’aiq.

🤍❤️🤍💙🤍

“Wake UP!”

That was your only warning before Mor flung herself on top of you, forcing the air from your lungs in one go.

“Oh my gods, Mor!”

Mor’s maniacal giggling was the answer you got as Mor flopped to the other side of the bed and off of you, your eyes flying open in panic.

“Did you squish M’aiq?!” You asked frantically as you turned to see Mor inspecting her nails.

“No, I didn’t squish M’aiq,” she reassured you. “She bolted straight under the bed the moment I winnowed in, otherwise I wouldn’t have squished you like that.”

You shook your head, even as a smile crept onto your face. “Oh, you won’t squish M’aiq but you’ll squish me?” You asked, letting fake offence seep into your tone.

“Uh, yes, you would cry if I squished M’aiq, but you? You have information that I want! Tell me all about the date while we do our skincare, yeah?” Mor asked as she stood up from your bed, looking expectantly at you.

You nodded and flung the covers back, scrunching your nose at the cold air. Your slippers and dressing gown fixed that easily, and you followed Mor into your bathroom.

“So, how was it?” Mor asked excitedly as she patted her face dry.

“It was…” You sighed dreamily. “It was everything I could have hoped for, honestly. We went to this small Illyrian restaurant in the Palace of Thread and Jewels, the food was amazing, We talked a lot about when we were younger, he told me a few funny stories about Cassian and Rhysand,” you giggled. “And we realized that we both thought we had been extremely obvious with our affections, but neither of us noticed.”

“Well, I noticed,” Mor laughed. “I swear, when Azriel can’t see you at least once a week, he becomes the crankiest little Spymaster. And you get so blushy and shy around him, it’s so cute!”

Color dusted your cheeks at her words. “…Does he really get upset?”

Mor burst into laughter. “He does! He went off on Keir so many times, it was amazing! How was the rest of the date? Did you do anything else?” She asked as the two of you moved from the bathroom to the dining table, settling down in front of the pastries and tea that Mor had brought.

You couldn’t help but smile as you thought of how the date ended. “Well, he walked me home along the Sidra, but while we were I heard this lovely music, and in the dim lights and with the snow it was…” You let out a breath. “It was perfect. We danced to the music-”

“Azriel danced?” Mor asked incredulously, and you blinked at her, confused.

“Yes? Is that… Does he not normally dance?”

Mor shook her head. “He knows how to, he’s just… Always avoided it, whenever he could. I’m not sure exactly why, I think he might just be shy. Or… Maybe he just didn’t have the right partner!” Mor squealed, and you blushed again.

“Well either way, we danced for a bit, and then when we got to my door he kissed me,” You whispered. “It was… I’ve never been kissed before but I can’t imagine any other kiss ever measuring up.”

Mor was holding her hands to her cheeks, a huge grin splitting her face. “Oh mother, you are in love!” You smacked her lightly, your cheeks cherry red now.

“Shut up!”

“No, I can’t! My best friend is in love with my other best friend! Do you know how cute the two of you are together?”

You rolled your eyes at her and took a sip of your tea. “You haven’t even seen us together since we’ve been dating, Mor.”

“I don’t need to see you two together to know that you’re the cutest couple in Velaris! That is, until I finally get a chance to ask out the adorable Illyrian that Nesta is friends with,” Mor sighed. “Any other details about the night that you want to share with me?” She asked, waggling her brows at you suggestively.

"Mor. We kissed, and that’s all!” You insisted, placing the back of your hands on your cheeks in an attempt to cool them. “And that’s all that will happen, unless we get married.”

“See! You’re in looove, already thinking about getting married to Azriel,” Mor giggled.

You shot her a glare, but the smile that forced its way onto your face ruined the effect. “Mor,” you groaned.

Mor snickered at you, but relented. “Fine, fine. Do you know when you’re seeing him next?”

You nodded, your smile growing. “He’s picking me up after I get off work tonight.”

“Cute! I have a feeling it’s going to be tough keeping Azriel in the Hewn City through the elections.” Mor glanced to the clock, sighing when she saw the time. “I have to get going, I’ve got a meeting with Rhys in ten minutes and he’ll be pissed if I show up late again.”

“How many times have you been late?” You asked as you walked her to the door, Mor waving excitedly at M’aiq, whose head poking out from under the bed.

“I’ve lost track,” Mor laughed. “Especially recently, if he’s going to keep me in the Hewn City most of the time, I’m entitled to being late, I think.”

“I think you’re right, Mor. Will I be seeing you tomorrow?”

“Yes, I should be in town a bit after you usually get off of work. But…” Mor fished something out of her pockets: two blank pieces of paper. “I wanted you to have these! They’re both spelled to be sent after being folded like the letter I sent to you yesterday, and all messages are erased ten minutes after being opened. One of them is spelled to go to me, and the other is spelled to go to Azriel. I thought it would be nice for you to have a way to communicate with us, without needing magic.”

You grinned at the blonde standing in your doorway. “Thank you, Mor, this is amazing! And I’m sure you have no ulterior motives, like getting information on my and Azriel’s dates?”

“Oh, of course not, I just thought you might like to have someone to gush about him to,” Mor said with a wink. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“I’ll see you then, Mor. Have a good day!”

“You as well!” Mor called out from halfway down the staircase.

You shut your front door and giggled when M’aiq came trotting over, meowing insistently at you. “Yeah, you could have been fed earlier if you’d been a little braver, Eeky. Let’s get your breakfast started,” you said after setting the papers down on your kitchen table, trading them for your soft, fluffy child. “Do you want to watch me cook it today?”

Her loud meow was enough of an answer for you, so you set her on the counter next to the stove while you pulled a bit of beef out of the cold box. The rest of your morning passed by quickly, between cutting the meat and making sure M’aiq stayed out of the heating pan, and later keeping her from eating straight out of it. Soon enough, she was munching away after you’d set her and her food bowl on the ground.

You went about the rest of your routine, applying a light layer of pink eyeshadow and a bit of blush before getting dressed, choosing a pale purple dress, its sleeves reaching just past your elbow and the hem reaching your ankles. The matching sash around your waist was tied into a bow at your lower back, showing more of your figure than you usually did, especially at work.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t chose it knowing that Azriel would be picking you up from work later that day, your mind already stuck on how he might react to it. The whole walk to work you thought about it, nearly slipping on two separate patches of ice, you were so distracted. Somehow, you managed to safely make it to Sevenda’s on time, your outerwear hung up in the tiny breakroom just as the clock hit nine.

“Oh, someone looks nice today,” Josi remarked as you slid on your apron, her hands already chopping onions.

“Thank you, Josi,” you said with a smile, tying off your apron and moving to the sink to clean your hands.

“You have a hot date later, Y/N?” Torma asked, making heat rush to your cheeks. “Oh! You do! Who is it, tell us who it is!”

You laughed nervously as you finished drying your hands, facing your coworkers with your flushed cheeks. “It’s no one, really,” you said quietly, readying your workstation for the day. You would be handling the preparation of the meats today, a task you’d only just recently earned enough trust to do on your own.

“It’s not no one, just tell us who it is,” Josi begged from your left. “Please?”

You shook your head, pulling out a large piece of beef that you’d be carving up. “I don’t want to talk about it yet, we’ve only been on one date.”

“Ah, new love,” Torma sighed. “Whoever it is, they better treat you right, Y/N.”

You couldn’t fight the smile that slid onto your face. “He treats me perfectly,” you said softly.

Josi and Torma continued to ask questions about your mystery suitor, determined to guess who it is through your answers by the end of the day. The two of them never failed to make your day fly by, their cheery attitudes and kind words always making your day better.

As your shift drew to a close, though, your eyes kept flicking up to the clock, wishing for once that the minutes would pass by more quickly.

If Josi or Torma noticed, neither of them mentioned it. Either way, you were glad no one had pointed out how antsy you were, waiting to leave.

Five minutes before five o’clock, Sevenda popped her head into the kitchen, locking eyes with you. “Y/N, you have a guest out front when you’re done,” she said with a knowing smile and a wink before disappearing back into the front of house.

“Oh, would that guest happen to be your male?” Josi giggled, her and Torma’s eyes following you as you cleaned up your space and washed up quickly.

“I think it is, look at how fast she’s moving! Normally you never want to leave us, Y/N, is that going to change?” Torma asked with a pout.

“No, that won’t change,” you laughed as you dried your hands. “I just happen to be meeting him right after work today.” You went into the breakroom and put on your cloak and scarf, sliding your mittens on as you walked into the front of house, your eyes instantly drawn to the Illyrian lingering near the doorway.

He noticed you in the same moment, his hazel eyes softening when they landed on you. A few of his shadows slunk over to you, wrapping themselves around your legs and ankles, and judging by his expression he hadn’t asked them to do so. You walked up to him, your eyes finally registering that he was holding a lovely bouquet of red camellias and azaleas.

He had picked such romantic flowers for you, both today and last night, it was making your head spin.

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” he greeted, pressing a soft kiss to each of your cheeks, your face flaming when he pulled away. Azriel pressed the bouquet into your hands gently. “I brought you these, I thought you might like them.”

“I love them, thank you Az,” you said, a grin on your face as you smelled them. “Should we go?”

“Yes, I was think-”

“No way!” Josi squealed from behind you. “Torma, you owe me twenty marks!”

“Nice, Y/N, you got the Shadowsinger!” Torma cheered from the back of the restaurant. “You two are so cute together!”

You smiled apologetically up at Azriel, your cheeks now red from embarrassment. “Goodbye,” you said loudly to the two of them, noticing that even Wren was peeking out from the kitchen, shaking your head at their antics.

The two of you left the restaurant, the chill of winter sinking into your skin a bit. “You were saying something before my coworkers interrupted you?”

“Ah.” Azriel rubbed the back of his head, and in the remaining sunlight you could see his cheeks were lightly dusted with pink. “I thought that we could go to the markets to get ingredients for dinner, and I could cook for you at your apartment.”

You couldn’t help the smile that formed at his suggestion, and you quickly nodded in agreement. “That sounds lovely, Az. Though I’d like to insist on helping you cook.”

“And I would like to insist that you allow me to cook for you myself, just this once,” he requested softly. Azriel smiled down at you as he grabbed your hand, a few of his shadows floating over to your other and disappearing with your bouquet, presumably taking it to your apartment. He slowly led you to the Palace of Bone and Salt, his grip being the only thing keeping you upright on more than one occasion.

Shopping went by quickly with Azriel at your side, your heart racing and cheeks flushed at all times from his presence. When the streets grew crowded, Azriel guided you through the groups of people with a considerate hand on your lower back, his other arm managing to carry everything he’d purchased for dinner.

He still had yet to tell you what he was making, or agree that you could help.

By the time you returned to your apartment, the sun had thrown lovely oranges and pinks into the sky, matching the lovestruck mood you were in from Azriel’s mere presence. You led Azriel up to your apartment, opening your front door slowly to be certain that M’aiq was unable to make an escape - not that you expected her to, with how frightened she seemed to be of anything and anyone new.

“M’aiq, we’re home!” You called out into the room, spying her green eyes glinting in the light from under your bed, a smile gracing your lips. “You know him, cutie pie,” you giggled as you watched her eyes lock onto Azriel’s form, her body slinking just a bit further into the shadows. You rolled your eyes and turned your gaze to Azriel, who had taken off his boots and was already entering the kitchen with the groceries.

Your own winter gear came off quickly, shoes replaced with fuzzy slippers. It took you mere seconds to be by his side, curiously taking note of everything he’d bought - you could hardly remember what you’d stopped for, with your head and heart buzzing from getting to spend so much time with Azriel, even if it was only grocery shopping.

“So, what are we making?” You asked, letting your right hand brush against his left ever so slightly.

“I am making a chicken stir-fry for us,” Azriel responded, a gentle kiss placed to the crown of your head right after. “And you, my dear, will be sitting either at the table or on the couch.”

Your lips slid into a pout - that just wouldn’t do.

“But I want to help,” you whined, laying your head against his shoulder. “Please?”

Azriel sighed. “You can help next time, Y/N. But I would love if you would give me the chance to make you a meal, all on my own.”

Your heart soared at his offer - he would love to cook for you - and you couldn’t help but smile, especially when you saw his lips tilted a the corners, his eyes hopeful as he looked down at you.

“Fine,” you gave in.  “Do you need help finding anything?”

“No, love, I’ve got it covered. You just go take a seat, and I’ll bring you a pot of tea in a moment.”

You took a seat, a playful pout on your lips. You appreciated the gesture, but you really would enjoy cooking with him again.

You’ll have as many times as you want to cook with him after this, you reminded yourself, a smile coming to your lips at the thought.

You could cook with him whenever youwantednow that you were dating, so long as he was in the city.

That train of thought had you so entangled that you only realized Azriel had brought you a pot of tea when he pressed a kiss to your forehead, a soft look in his eyes when he pulled away. “What are you thinking about, love?”

Your cheeks flamed from the nickname - how could something so simple be so perfect? “Just… How we can do this all the time, now,” you admitted shyly.

Azriel nodded. “Yes we can, Y/N. And we will, whenever we have the time,” he promised before bending down to kiss you gently, leaving you breathless.

“Good,” you managed to say, grinning up at him before watching him turn back to the stove. “How was your day?”

“Oh, not too bad,” Azriel replied as he began cutting the chicken, having already prepared all of the vegetables while you had been fantasizing about your future with him. “Most of my day will happen when I go back to the Hewn City, so I’m incredibly grateful to spend the beginning of it with you. You are much preferred company to any of the citizens I have to interact with there, love.”

Would your cheeks always be pink around him?

“I’m glad you get to spend it with me too,” you said as you took a sip of your tea, which his shadows had kindly poured out for you - one of your favorites, a pink rose green tea. “Do you know when you’ll stop having to be there as much?”

Azriel hummed thoughtfully as he transferred the chicken to the pan. “I believe in three weeks things will be a bit more settled, and I won’t have to spend every night there.”

Three weeks. You could handle that.

You stood from your chair and made your way over to him, watching as he moved the chicken around the pan. “Three weeks? That isn’t too bad.”

Azriel turned to look at you, a wing curling slightly around your back to touch your arm. “Three weeks will be torture, knowing that I could have been spending every day with you,” he admitted quietly, your heart fluttering at the sincerity of his tone, the truth in his hazel eyes. “You have no idea how many times I’ve almost caused a problem with Keir when he was holding me up from leaving,” Azriel sighed.

“I think only Keir would mind if he got hit in the face,” you giggled, knowing how awful he was, even to his own daughter. One of your hands was slowly creeping over to the spoon he was using to stir.

Azriel let out a soft snort. “That may be true, but I’d prefer to spend time with you over teaching him a lesson.” Hazel eyes darted down, catching you in the act and using a scarred hand to pick yours up and bring the back of it to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss there. “Now, go sit down and enjoy your tea love.”

You stuck your lips out into a pout. “But I want to help,” you whined.

“And you agreed that you wouldn’t help this time. So, will you sit down? Or do my shadows need to help you?” Azriel asked, and your cheeks flushed bright red.

“I can sit down,” you sighed before turning back to the table and reluctantly taking a seat. You took a deep sip of tea, aware of the shadows that had stretched away from Azriel slightly. You almost felt like they were staring at you, making sure you didn’t leave your seat.

It was likely, you supposed, since Azriel was able to spy on people with them. Then again, you weren’t really sure.

“How do the shadows work?” you blurted out, hoping it wasn’t a rude question.

Azriel turned around, a surprised look on his face. “You… You want to know about them?” he asked neutrally.

"I... Yes. They’re a part of you, right?”

His lips tilted up, just a tiny bit, at the corners. “Yes, and no. They’ve been with me so long that we feel like one, but they have minds of their own. That’s why one has been following you around secretly without my permission for over a year.” His eyes locked onto a place by your feet, where a small shadow slunk out from underneath the hem of your dress.

“I- What?” you asked, worried about what that meant.

Azriel shook his head quickly, and his words dispelled any notions your brain had been creating. “I have received absolutely no information from them, when they follow you, I swear. They just… Wanted to keep an eye on you,” he said sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, turning quickly to the pan to keep the chicken from burning. “I hope that you aren’t offended by it, I truly did attempt to make them stop.”

You pursed your lips together, trying to keep a giggle in. “They can… They can disobey you?”

“I don’t normally let people know that, but yes,” Azriel sighed. “They’re very stubborn, when they think I’m wrong.” He began stirring in the vegetables he’d cut, pouring a delicious smelling sauce over them as he did.

“They thought you were wrong? About what?” You asked with a furrowed brow.

You just barely noticed the way Azriel’s wings stiffened at the question, barely heard the quiet answer he gave to your question.

“About me… Giving you space.”

Giving me space? Space from what?

“Rhys…” Azriel groaned, stepping away from the stove. “Mother, it’s so stupid! Rhys told me not to approach you romantically, after he told me off for having feelings for Elain-” he seemed to have noticed his mistake the moment he said it, turning to look at you with horror in his eyes. “Oh gods, Y/N, I never had feelings for your sister, Rhys just had it in his head that I did because I was helping her recover as he and Feyre had asked of me,” he rushed out quickly, your brain struggling to make sense of the sudden onslaught of information. “Truly, since I’ve met you, I’ve had no interest in anyone else romantically, Y/N, you have to believe me,” Azriel begged when you were silent for a moment, getting on his knees in front of you, his wings folded behind him.

You had never felt that Azriel cared for Elain, beyond that of a friend. But, knowing that someone else had thought he had…

“I believe you, Az. I do,” you said quietly. “But… What changed your mind? About giving me space, I mean.”

Azriel let out a relieved sigh, giving you a gentle, reassuring hug before returning to the stove reluctantly. “Well… You. I had thought you were adjusting well to life in Velaris, but on Bounty Day… I realized that your support system wasn’t giving you the proper support, and I could have been contributing all along.” The shadow that was still at the hem of your dress rushed up to his face, poking him on the ear, almost scoldingly before he let out an amused huff. “Yes, also you, little one,” he said with an affectionate eyeroll, smiling when the shadow brushed against his cheek before returning to you, this time settling around your wrist.

“Well… I’m glad that you had someone to talk some sense into you,” you giggled before standing from your chair and going behind him, placing your face between his wings and wrapping your arms as far around him as you could, almost getting your fingers to touch. He stiffened in your hold for a brief moment before relaxing, a hand coming to rest over yours.

“Me too,” he whispered.

He let you stand behind him, arms wrapped around him tightly the rest of the time he was cooking, his shadows happily encircling the two of you.

The meal he made you was perfect, made with just the right amount of spice for you and oh so filling. Az even insisted on washing up while you sat on the couch in front of a blazing fire, attempting to lure M’aiq out from under your bed.

“Will you come out for food?” you begged, grinning when her ears perked up, eyes locking onto yours instead of where Azriel was standing in the kitchen. “Please, little noodle?” She let out a tiny meow and took a few brave steps towards you, and you took the opportunity to stand and scoop her up. “Thank you, now let’s get you some food!”

A few of Azriel’s shadows darted over to you and M’aiq, hovering curiously around her before backing away after she hissed, making her displeasure very known. You set her on the counter before pulling some steak from the fridge for her - her newest favorite.

You set to preparing her dinner, hyper-aware of Azriel standing near you at the sink, the very edges of his wing brushing you every now and then, his shadows lazily floating between the two of you. You’d just gotten the meat in a pan when Azriel finished at the sink, stepping aside a bit to let you wash your hands. He still had your hand towel when you finished, wrapping your hands in it softly and drying them for you.

In a moment of bravery you stood on your tip-toes, pressing your lips to his briefly before pulling away, only for Az to pull you back, his mouth covering yours sweetly until you heard metal rattling.

You turned to see M’aiq, one paw on the steak in the pan as she tried, and failed, to grab a slice from the pan. “M’aiq!” you yelped, moving out of Azriel’s hold to pull her away from possible danger. “You impatient little girl! You can wait five more minutes,” you said as you held her up to your face, shaking your head at her behavior. She was set on the counter to your left, away from the hot pan and thankfully staying put, now that your eyes were on her again.

You had just started to stir the meat when Azriel came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before resting his chin on it. For the next four minutes, you were sure that you looked an idiot, smiling so widely at a mere hug.

But you didn’t care.

Because it was Azriel.

And if you could spend every moment with him? You were sure that you would.

For now, though, you could settle for any amount of time with the perfect, caring male behind you.

Once M’aiq was fed, you couldn’t help but feel your time with him drawing to a close for the night, your heart aching already at the prospect. But you let him lead you back over to the couch, sitting down first and pulling you down and into his side, a warm throw blanket pulled over you in the next moment. His wings draped over the side of the couch, an arm wrapped over your shoulders and his free hand holding one of yours. He swiped his thumb over the back of it rhythmically as you basked in each other’s presence.

“So,” Azriel started a while later, after M’aiq had joined you. “I won’t be able to come to town until Friday night next week, and I was wondering if you would be free for another date?”

You tilted your head to look up at him, meeting his softened hazel eyes. “I most definitely am,” you confirmed with a smile, it broadening when he placed a tender kiss to your lips. “Do I get a hint on what it is?”

Azriel grinned at you, his face looking so boyish and free that your heart skipped a beat. “Wear something you can move comfortably in.”

You furrowed your brow. “That’s not much of a hint…” you half-heartedly grumbled.

“The hint was meant to be vague, love,” Az chuckled. He leaned down to kiss you once more, still soft and tender, but you could sense the hunger lying deep underneath the calm façade he was wearing. “I should be going, as much as I would rather stay with you,” he groaned, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Then stay…” you whispered against his lips, drawing another long kiss from him.

He sighed when he pulled away this time, a finality in his expression. “I wish I could,” he murmured before carefully moving the blanket on his lap in an effort to not disturb M’aiq. Once he was standing, he bent down for another kiss, your eyes fluttering closed until he pulled away, your cheeks pink. “I’ll see you on Friday?”

“On Friday,” you nodded. “Oh, wait! Mor gave me these papers that will let us write to each other,” you said. “So… Expect a letter from me, probably tomorrow,” you giggled.

Azriel beamed at you, a dimple showing on his left cheek when he did so, your heart absolutely melting at the sight. “I’ll look forward to it, Y/N. Have a good rest of your night,” he said before pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips.

“You too, Az,” you said, watching as he left through your front, door, the shadow that apparently stays with you locking the door behind him before lazily floating back over to you.

What a night, you thought to yourself.

There had been a brief moment of panic, with the reveal of Rhysand not wanting Azriel to approach you, but… You knew that Azriel was telling you the truth, that he had never harbored feelings for your second eldest sister.

And that was all the reassurance that you needed.

🤍💙💘💙🤍

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[artvscvntymullet]

Hey I have a request for George maybe u could do a fic about the inside show and George and reader fall in love like how Danny and Tennessee fell in love like there story in the show just what ever u come up with 

BEHIND THE CAMERAS - GEORGE CLARKE

thank you for requesting !! my netflix subscription ran out a couple of days ago, so ive seen lots of clips, but not in order haha, i hope ive been able to do it justice x

there are a few time jumps, ive done this by a larger gap between paragraphs !!

content warnings : light angst, pressure (like in the show) but nothing heavy !!

word count : 1700 words

Inside Season 2 was a different beast than the first. More intense challenges, more manipulation, and way more pressure. Everyone was there to win. No alliances, no guarantees. It was every contestant for themselves, and you knew it would be a struggle to even make it to the final round.

You didn't expect to feel anything for George, not at first. He was confident, quick with a smile, and always ready with a joke. But underneath that exterior, you saw the same thing in him that you saw in yourself: someone who would do whatever it took to win.

"You’re really gonna do that? After everything we’ve been through?" George asked, eyeing you as you prepared to sabotage his chances in the next challenge.

You smirked, adjusting the strap on your gear. "This is a competition, George. No one’s my friend here."

There was a moment of silence between you two. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in the air was thick, almost palpable. "Right," George said finally, his voice calm, but you could tell he wasn’t happy about it. "Well, good luck then. You’ll need it."

You watched as he walked away, his back straight, never once looking back. And you felt a twist in your chest, but you shoved it down quickly. You couldn’t afford distractions. Not now.

As the show went on, it wasn’t just about the physical challenges anymore. The mental games, the alliances, the manipulations—it all took a toll. Everyone was turning on each other, using whatever they could to gain an edge. But then there were the moments when it was just you and George, alone.

"You know," George said one evening, as you both sat in the shared lounge area, too tired from the day’s challenge to do much else, "I can’t tell if I hate you or if you’re the one person here who actually gets it." You laughed, the sound surprisingly soft. "Maybe a little bit of both?"

George glanced over at you, his usual cocky smirk slipping for just a second, and in that instant, you saw something different. Maybe he wasn't so sure of everything he was doing. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to be alone in the game anymore.

But then the cameras caught your eye, and the mask came back on. You both straightened up immediately, plastering on the smiles for the production crew. No alliances. No feelings. It was the rules of the game.

As the season progressed, the stakes kept getting higher. Challenges were more brutal, and betrayals were more frequent. George and you often found yourselves on opposing sides, each of you trying to outwit the other, trying to get ahead.

But the more you fought for your own place in the game, the more you realized how much George was constantly in your head. Every little interaction, every quiet moment between challenges—it was becoming harder and harder to ignore the pull between you.

Still, you couldn’t afford to let it distract you.

Finally, the day came. The last challenge. The one that would decide who made it to the final round.

You and George were once again pitted against each other, and this time, it felt more personal. There were no more jokes, no more teasing. This was it.

"May the best person win," George said, his tone serious as you both prepared for the final task.

You didn’t answer right away, too focused on the challenge ahead. But deep down, you knew this would be the hardest thing you’d ever done. Because beating him—defeating him—would mean something you weren’t quite ready for.

And then, just like that, it was over. You won. But as the crew swarmed you with congratulations, George stood off to the side, watching you. His expression was unreadable, and for a moment, you felt like you were the one who lost.

The Inside experience felt like a lifetime ago. After the cameras stopped rolling and the finale aired, you and George didn’t keep in touch immediately. It was weird—being done with the show felt oddly empty. You both had been rivals for so long that it was hard to imagine anything else between you.

But somehow, your paths crossed again. It started with a message from George—nothing too serious, just a "hey, how’ve you been?" and a few emojis. You didn’t expect to reply, but you did. And just like that, the conversation picked up again. Not about Inside, not about the competition, but about… life. About what came after.

Eventually, you both ended up meeting up for coffee—casual, no cameras. Just two people who had shared something intense and weirdly memorable.

"I still can’t believe you beat me in that last challenge," George said, shaking his head, but there was no bitterness in his voice. Just a resigned smile. "I mean, I thought I had it in the bag."

You laughed. "You were good, I’ll admit. But I guess I just wanted it more."

George raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "Is that what it was?"

You looked at him for a long second, then shrugged. "Maybe. But I think it was more than just winning. I think… I needed to prove something to myself."

The air between you two shifted. The playful teasing, the rivalry—it wasn’t there anymore. It was just… a conversation. Real. Honest. And it felt easy.

A few weeks later, you were on the phone with him again. The vibe between you two had changed, and it felt... good. Real. George made you laugh in ways no one else could, and you could tell he was starting to look at you differently, too.

"You know," he said one night, his voice quieter than usual, "I never thought I’d say this, but I kind of missed the chaos of Inside. But… I think I missed you more."

You smiled, a soft blush creeping up your neck. "Same here. But I think we both know the chaos didn’t end when the cameras did."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a soft laugh. "No, it definitely didn’t."

Eventually, it just… happened. Slowly. You started seeing each other outside the chaos of the show, no cameras, no games. Just George and you, learning what it meant to actually be together after all the drama and competition. And maybe, after everything that happened on Inside, that was the greatest win of all.

Months later, you and George found yourselves walking down the street hand in hand, laughing at the absurdity of everything that had happened on the show. "I can’t believe we’re together," you said, still surprised by how natural it all felt.

George gave you a sideways glance, squeezing your hand. "I can. You always were my biggest competition."

You laughed, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. "Guess I always won in the end."

George’s grin was just as mischievous as it had been during the show. "You know what? Maybe you did." And this time, it wasn’t a competition. It was just you and him—together, with all the chaos behind you.

[aleskie]

hey!! you’re genuinely one of my favorite writers, i check your profile everyday to see if you wrote something new. ily.

i was wondering if you would be able to write ex!charles leclerc calling after winning monaco and leaving a voicemail of how he wishes she could be there with him to experience it after all the years he dreamt of it and every single time he did she was there? kind of like a “the one that got away” trope?

if so then thank you so much may everything good happen to you foreva

Anonnie! ILYT!!! You're so so sweet! I love writing angst so this was right up my alley!! I really hope you like it!

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY | Charles Leclerc x Reader

Warnings: None. There is no happy ending.

It’s late at night, long after the celebrations of his Monaco win, when he thinks of you. He tries not to. It hurts too much. But after this—after years of chasing this, of dreaming about this—all he wants is to share it with you. He can’t, though. Because he left. Because he chose to leave. And he regrets it every single day.

“I just need to focus on my career,” he had said. “I don’t need distractions right now.”

He called you a distraction.

“I can’t have anything unimportant ruin my chances at helping us get a Constructor’s Championship.”

He called you unimportant.

“This is all too much. This relationship is too much. I have too much on my shoulders to worry about this.”

He said you were too much.

But you weren’t. You were never too much, never unimportant, never a distraction. You—God, you were his whole world. And he let you go.

That night, he left. Stayed at a friend’s place until you both could figure out how to split everything. He thought there would be a conversation, a plan. But he didn’t have to wait—when he returned, you were already gone. Your keys left at the front desk, your presence erased from the apartment that once felt like home.

Your shoes were no longer on the rack by the front door. Your clothes were missing from your side of the closet. Your perfumes and makeup—gone. Your skincare, once neatly arranged on the bathroom counter, wiped away as if you had never been there at all.

You were gone, and yet your absence was everywhere.

If he could take it back, he would.

But he can’t.

He let go of the one person who had been there from the very start—the one who watched every race, who nursed his wounds after every crash, who celebrated every podium, every victory, as if they were her own.

And he regretted it more than anything.

Still, a part of him—selfish and desperate—wanted to hear your voice just one last time. Wanted to tell you about this win. Wanted to imagine, just for a moment, what it would feel like to have you here, whispering, I’m proud of you.

Against his better judgment, he calls you. No hesitation. No second-guessing. No voice in his head warning him that this might be a mistake—that you might not want to hear from him ever again.

The phone rings, and he hopes. He knows you won’t pick up, but still, he hopes. Hopes that, against all odds, you’ll answer. That you’ll say what he’s desperate to hear. That you’ll come rushing over to celebrate with him. That maybe…just maybe, you’ll tell him you want to try again.

The call pushes through.

"Hey! This is Y/N! Sorry I can’t get to you, but just leave a message after the beep!"

His heart sinks, just a little. But at least his number isn’t blocked.

“Y/N? Hey, this is Charles.” He exhales, steadying himself. “I don’t know if you saw—I hope you did, but I don’t know if you still keep up with Formula One—but I finally won Monaco!”

He’s sure you can hear the smile in his voice. Even now, with the weight of this call pressing down on him, the sheer joy of the win lingers.

“I…” He hesitates, his breath shaky. “I’m sorry for calling.” A pause, longer this time. “I’m sorry for everything.”

He paces around the apartment, eyes drifting to the empty spaces where your things used to be—gaps on the bookshelf where your favorite novels once sat, the flower vase beside his piano that hasn’t held a bouquet since you left, the shelf where your little trinkets used to be, now collecting dust.

“I don’t know why I called you,” he admits, voice quieter now. “I just… felt like I needed you to know.”

His gaze lands on the fridge. The photos are still there—pictures of the two of you frozen in time, untouched, unchanged, as if removing them would make the loss too real.

“You were always there for me. Through everything. And I wouldn’t be here without you. I hope you know how grateful I am for that.”

His fingers trace the outline of your smile in one of the photos.

“I wouldn’t be the man I am today without you. No one could put up with me like you could. No one else would stay.”

Your picture is still in his wallet, tucked in the same place it’s always been. A habit he never broke, a piece of you he never let go of.

“I don’t know if what I did then was the right thing,” he confesses, voice raw. “I don’t know if I would have moments like this if we were still together. I don’t know how my life would have been if I never let you go. But I do know one thing—I will always love you.”

A silence stretches between him and the voicemail, like he’s processing the weight of his own words.

“There will always be a part of me that belongs to you,” he murmurs. “No matter how long it’s been, no matter how much time passes—I’m yours. You don’t spend your life with someone and then expect that to just disappear.”

He takes a deep breath, steadying himself.

“If you ever want to come back to me, and God, I hope you do—one day, when we’re wiser, when we’ve healed, when we’ve lived a little more—my door is always open. My arms are always open. For you. Always for you.”

A shuddering exhale.

“I love you. I’ll always love you. And I will always regret letting you go. You’re always going to be everything to me. I would give you all I have, everything you want, everything I could give.”

“I love you,” he says one last time before ending the call, fingers lingering on the phone like he wants to say more. But there’s nothing left—nothing that wouldn’t crack his voice, nothing that wouldn’t let you hear the quiet devastation settling in his chest.

So he puts his phone away and goes to bed, staring at the ceiling, hoping.

Maybe he’ll receive a reply tomorrow. Or next week. Or years from now.

He’ll be waiting, after all.

You listen to his voicemail that night, curled up in your bed, sobbing into your pillow, your chest aching in a way you thought you’d left behind.

Why now?

Why would he choose to break your heart all over again?

You’d think you’d moved on. You’d think you’d healed. And you did. You really did. You built a life without him. You stitched yourself back together, piece by piece.

But then you hear his voice, and suddenly, the wounds aren’t scars—they’re fresh, raw, bleeding all over again. And God, you want to go back. You want to step into the past, into his arms, into the life you used to share.

But that’s not healthy anymore.

You can’t keep waiting for someone to slow down when their entire existence is built around going faster and faster—so fast that a crash is inevitable.

Your finger hovers over his contact. You trace the familiar details—the way his name looks on your screen, the phone number you could recite in your sleep, the goofy picture of him you took all those years ago still set as his image. A piece of the past frozen in time.

A notification pops up.

[Block this contact?]

Your breath catches. For a second, you hesitate. But then you remember—the sleepless nights, the ache of waiting, the empty promises, the way he chose his career over you without a second thought.

And this time, you choose.

You press the button.

No more waiting. No more hoping. No more him.

This time you were choosing yourself. As much as it hurt, as much as it broke you, you were going to let go.

A final notification.

[This Contact Has Been Blocked]

[loveunt0ld]

juno - hwang hyunjin

he’s always been your best friend, ever since middle school. but somewhere along the way, that all changed and then you found yourself seeing him from a different perspective. noticing the way your heart danced extra when he was around. little do you know, hyunjin’s been in the same boat for a while now too. is a silly game of truth or dare enough to change that?

a/n: this is my first time writing something like this but i really wanted to for hyun’s bday! this is sort of lightly inspired by sabrina carpenter’s juno. happy birthday my forever love ♡

—

hwang hyunjin. that was the name of your best friend, who you’ve been in love with for the past couple of years now. you remember meeting him all those years back. he warmed up to you rather quickly. he was a ray of sun on the most gloomiest of your days. he was light personified. even though he tells you he’s the lucky one, he doesn’t realize the ways in which he’s changed your life. your happiest moments were all thanks to him. what a privilege it is to grow up with the warmest soul on planet earth you thought.

you two were now in your last year of college, and you still hadn’t confessed the way you felt about him. it’s been years of lingering touches, longing looks and nothing from either of you. despite how close you were to hyunjin, you could never tell what he truly thought of you. to the average person, you two looked like you were dating, so clearly in love. but between you two? you were both too scared to cross that line.

you were pulled out of your thoughts by a tap on your shoulder. you turned around to see him. hyunjin. you felt your heart leap out of your chest, but you smiled upon seeing him.

“y/n? are you okay?” hyunjin asked, concerned something was bothering you. you shook your head, scared that your voice would shake and betray you. you grounded yourself before answering.

“yes hyune. i’m ok, i promise.” too close you thought. hyunjin gave you a look before accepting your answer, not wanting to pry anymore. you’ll talk to him when you’re ready he thought. he has no idea you close you are to just saying to hell with it, especially when he looks at you like you personally put the stars in the sky.

“if you say so. i just wanted to ask if we were still on for our little get together later?” he asks. he was celebrating his birthday with a small party. you had been anxiously waiting. you had spent an insane amount of time trying to get him a gift, but nothing ever felt just right.

“of course hyun! how could i forget?” you smiled, feeling your heartbeat in your ears. you prayed he couldn’t hear it. he gave you prettiest smile ever, with his crescent moon eyes on full display. he’s the prettiest when he’s happy you thought.

“i knew you wouldn’t. just wanted to remind my favorite girl is all. i don’t think i’d have a good time if you weren’t there.” he playfully says, all while playing with your hand. this can’t be casual anymore. he’s starting a whole war in your heart and he’s not even aware of it. you’re reminded that this whole party wasn’t even his idea to begin with, but rather your friend groups idea. you hoped he’d at least have fun.

“i obviously need to be there. who else is gonna bug you if not me?” you joked. he laughed, knowing he’d feel some sort of calmness with you there. it’s just so easy to do things with him by your side. he thought so too. you stared at him, hearts in your eyes. he looked down at his watch, immediately standing up.

“i didn’t realize i’m gonna be late for my next class. ill see you later, ok love?” he said while hugging you, not forgetting to land a kiss on your head. this is totally not what bestfriends do. you waved him goodbye, already nervous for the next time you’d see him.

—

later arrives and you’re standing outside of hyunjin’s apartment. you can feel the music coming from inside and you already know what to expect when you walk in there. leave it to jisung and felix for being in charge of attendance. your nerves settled as quickly as they rose. you texted hyunjin, telling him you arrived. seconds later he opened the door, looking at you and just taking in your appearance.

“hi pretty. im glad you made it. just be warned it’s a little crazy in there.” he stated, as if you couldn’t see past his shoulder where the madness ensued. you laughed anyways, happy he warned you regardless. he took your hand before he shut the door and led you to where his friends were. all of them immediately turning their heads towards your arriving figures and smiling, like they all knew something you didn’t.

“i see he’s already protecting you from this madhouse.” seungmin says, practically yelling over the music. you both chuckled, but too nervous to say the wrong thing.

“now that y/n is here, we should play a game! anyone up for truth or dare?” jeongin proposed while the others wore knowing smirks, clearly aware of his intentions. they all agreed to it, including hyunjin. you felt your heart drop, scared of what would happen.

—

you’re all sat in a big circle. it’s childish that this is the game they chose to play, right? but in the same nature, it felt fitting given the scenario. hyunjin sat by your side, listening to the outrageous things that were coming out of your friends mouths. each truth or dare becoming more outrageous than the last. your stomach hurt from constantly laughing, it was almost enough to make you forget that you and hyunjin were also playing.

“your turn hyunjin!” minho yells, snapping you out of your thoughts. you tensed a little bit. you had no idea what they had planned for him but you don’t know if you liked it one bit. hyunjin, on the other hand, looked calm. he didn’t indulge in his choice too much.

“dare.” hyunjin states. now you were sure everything you tried so hard to hide from him would be undone in a matter of minutes. maybe you needed this push, before it was too late. either way, that didn’t help to settle the storm brewing in you right now. you looked around, hoping the dare wouldn’t involved you. but they all knew your feelings for him.

it’s minho who also announces the dare. “i dare you to tell your crush how you feel. at this exact moment. doesn’t have to be in front of us, but you should tell her.” he reveals and you feel like you can’t breathe for just a second. that is until hyunjin is taking your hand and taking you upstairs to his room, that’s when you snap out of it.

the guys watch as hyunjin drags you away. they look at each other, knowing it’s long overdue. changbin starts talking, “do you think he’ll be mad at us?” clearly worried about what hyunjin would do. chan can only laugh beside him.

“he wouldn’t be. not when she feels the exact same way about him.” chan assures them, and that’s enough for all of them to smile at each other, happy that hyunjin would finally have the girl of his dreams.

—

up in hyunjin’s room, neither of you could look at each other. you hovered near his bed, while he stood at the door, making sure to lock it. the tension in the room thick enough to be cut through with a knife. you hear him shuffling around but you’re too scared to look up at him. you see his shoes come into view, knowing he’s standing right in front of you.

“y/n… i knew they would do that. but the truth is, i planned to tell you on my own terms. they’re not wrong. it’s just that, somewhere along the way, my like become love. im in love with you. you’re the only one for me y/n.” hyunjin states while looking down at you. “will you look at me y/n? i want to see you.” that’s enough to have you slowly look up at him.

“hyunjin, i have something to tell you too.” you confess, deciding to lay it all on the table before you changed your mind and ran away from it again. he waits for it, knowing the world you two so perfectly built together is about to change.

“i want you to know that im so in love with you. i have been for a while. and i need you to know that i want you to keep falling in love with me for as long as we let each other.” you whisper, too scared of how he’ll react. the room was charged with the desire you two had for each other. he stared into your eyes as he grabbed your hands, silently asking for your permission while he got impossibly closer. you nodded, more than willing to let him in.

hyunjin kissed you with the hunger of a starved man. you wrapped your arms around his neck while he held tightly onto your waist. he deepened the kiss while he brought you as close as your bodies would allow. he walked you two back to his bed and eventually your knees hit the edge causing you to fall backwards. the kiss broke, while you two pulled away to giggle and he made sure not to put all his weight on you.

“i don’t think you realize how long ive wanted to do that for, baby.” he softly spoke, while brushing a strand of hair out of your face. you smiled up at him, not believing anything that just happened. you two sat up while he pulled you onto his lap, straddling him. he lazily drew circles with his thumbs while he held onto your waist.

“the amount of times i almost threw all caution out of the window when we were alone. I’m glad i didn’t but, i also wished id done it sooner.” you reveal while caressing his cheeks, leaning in to plant a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. hyunjin looked up at you, eyes so full of love.

“keep on loving me y/n. i won’t break your heart ever. and if i do? please tell me im the dumbest man on earth. don’t ever let me do such a thing.” he pleaded softly. you nodded, knowing he was being true to his word. you leaned your forehead against his. hyunjin would make sure to make you the happiest girl ever.

“you know, i originally had another gift for you. but i don’t think anything can beat this. happy birthday my lover.” you state, while leaning in for another kiss. he kisses you softly this time. trying to savor the moment, while basking in the warmth that is you.

“i have an idea or two.” hyunjin suggests while smirking. you laugh, having no choice but to give in. he’s the birthday boy after all, and the love of your entire life. the man of your dreams. after years of pining, he’s finally yours and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[harrysgal]

SOMETHING DIFFERENT

harry styles x yn stylist — social media AU

I’ve been stuck with I dig your cinema for a while now, so I wanted to do something different to distract myself and somehow came up with this. Idk I just went along with this idea I had in mind and stopped when I reached the 30 pictures. Of course that means I didn’t get to finish it yet, but here it is anyway. Sorry if it sucks.

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liked by someone, bestie and 87k others 

magazine EXCLUSIVE: Jessie Moss and Harry Styles have split after nearly five months of dating. 

“Jessie and Harry have spent a lovely time together, but ultimately they just weren’t the right fit for one another,” says a rep for the actress.

Read the full statement at the link in our bio.

view all 1,014 comments

harryone ???????? harrytwo i’m sorry but WHAT THE FUCK??  harrythree no way 😲   harryfour i’m so confused right now harryfive wasn’t he giving an interview and talking about her like a week ago?!  jessiefanone well this sucks :( he really seemed to like her

harrysix this is ridiculous cmon. i fully refuse to believe it’s real harryseven first time he’s so public about a relationship and they just break up like this? OUT OF NOWHERE?

↳ harryeight that’s what i’ve been saying! the man was WHIPPED  ↳ harrynine this wasn’t mutual, i’ll tell you that much…. ↳ harryten also the fact that her fans are dead silent right now is soooo weird  ↳ harryeleven always knew she was too nice and cute to be true 

jandh4ever NO NO NO NO NO STOP  jandh4ever WHY WOULD THEY BREAK UP  jandh4ever THERE’S NO WAY THIS IS TRUE  jandh4ever NO WAY jandh4ever I DONT BELIEVE IT  jessiefantwo Guys, just read the article. Someone from Jessie’s team released the statement, so it’s real. They broke up, and that’s it. Let’s give them some privacy, it’s not our business. 

↳ harrytwelve i bet you’re all happy right now, arent you? you guys never supported harry as her bf even tho he was clearly really into her ↳ harrythirteen so true. what a despicable fandom 

harryfourteen oh boy :( hope they are both doing okay! 

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liked by harryone and 5,431 others 

harryupdates Harry in London today! 

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harryone baby was mad :( harrytwo no bc a fan said they didnt approach him bc they felt like he wasnt in the mood and i totally get them now harrythree he was supposed to be at the wedding, too :(  harryfour did you guys see that video on tiktok of someone saying they overheard him on the phone and apparently he was talking about jessie??

↳ harryfive yes but im not sure I believe them. I mean anyone can say anything just to get attention… 

harrysix this whole thing makes me so sad for him like he really doesnt seem ok :( harryseven the way he just turned around as soon as he saw the pap lol im laughing sorry

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magazine EXCLUSIVE: Jessie Moss spotted kissing longtime friend just one week after split from Harry Styles. 

The Golden Globe-nominated actress was spotted in her hometown attending her childhood best friend’s wedding—where she was also seen sharing a passionate moment with longtime friend Nathan Griffiths.

“It was meant to be,” a guest at the wedding shared. “We all knew. We were just waiting for Nathan to make a move.”

Another insider added, “They are really happy together. The timing is complicated, but they’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”

The photos surfaced just days after Moss’ team released a statement confirming the split. “Jessie and Harry have spent a wonderful time together, but ultimately, they just weren’t the right fit for one another,” a representative for the actress told MAGAZINE.

Read the full article at the link in our bio.

read all 3,681 comments 

harryone damn  harrytwo oh my  harrythree well… I guess now we know what happened 🧍🏻‍♀️ harryfour no bc for her team to release the statement so fast before the wedding means she KNEW what was about to happen harryfive I can’t believe she would do this to him???? harrysix has anyone checked on myparents on twitter? girl must be losing it lol harryseven I’m so sad and disappointed I don’t even know what to say 😞  harryeight i had a feeling the break up was suss but damn… i didnt know i would end up hating that girl jessiefanone i hope my baby doesn’t get canceled :( nathan and her have been friends for so long… it’s not a surprise they’ve always been in love with each other 

↳ harryfive if she’s always been in love with him then why did she even start dating someone else??? ↳ jessiefanone ＠harryfive i mean, have you ever been in love with a friend? it’s not that easy… i’m sure she didn’t know this would end up happening… 

jessiefan2 can harry’s fans please leave jessie alone? she’s never said one bad word about him and it’s not like she chose to hurt him on purpose 

↳ harrysix really??? have you read the article??? bc it surely seems everyone but harry knew about this ↳ harrynine she didn’t choose to hurt him but she definitely made sure to make herself available to kiss someone else 

harryten ngl i dont blame harry for never speaking about his relationships… look how messy this turned out to be  harryeleven at the end of the day, all I hope is that harry gets to live his happiest single era now… man def deserves it :( jessiefanthree I KNEW IT I KNEW IT OMG THIS IS THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY ENTIRE LIFE harrytwelve god i hate her fandom so fucking much

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👤 nathangriffiths

liked by nathangriffiths, herbff, jessiefan1 and 301,957

jessiemoss sometimes unexpected things happen in the most unexpected ways 💖

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harrystyles I’m so happy to announce that ‘Love On Tour 2022’ is finally coming to the UK, Europe and South America.

Public on sale begins on Friday, January 28th. Check your venue website for further information about your show.

I’m so excited to see you. Thank you, I love you. H

view all 16,765 comments  harryzero hii omg there you are :’) we missed youuuuu harryone YESSSS LET’S DO THISSSSS harrytwo 💘💘💘 can’t wait to see you!!!  harrythree there’s no better way to get over someone than to go on tour all over the world  harryfour baby really said who cares about my ex i have my fans im gonna visit all of them 🥲 harryfive all im saying is: singlerry in south america harrysix YESSS!!!!! take all my money i dont care it’s all yours i just want to see youuu harryseven hope you’re doing okay <3 we love you!

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harryone, harrytwo and 51 others

singlerry As a proud supporter of Harry’s single era, I don’t only bring this blind to your attention, but I also say that I hope it really is about him and says nothing but the true. GO FOR IT BABE!

view all 10 comments harryone not deuxmoi making him sound like a whore 😩 harrytwo honestly i hope it’s true, too. hope he’s kissing everyone and having the greatest time harrythree i volunteer in case he runs out of options harryfour okay i don’t actually believe deuxmoi, sorry lol but also the idea of harry just going out and being single like a normal human being (man) sounds really funny to me idk harryfive you guys should check twitter right now…….. lol

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harryupdates Harry leaving a club in London last night. 

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harryzero MY BABYYYY  harryone it’s been two months guys how did we even survive all this time without him :(  harrytwo man is looking gooooooooooddddd harrythree BOY LOOKS HAPPYYYYYY harrythree i bet he kissed the girl!!!!! 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 harryfour SINGLERRY IS SO HOT AND I’M SO HERE FOR IT harryfive hope he’s having the time of his life <3

↳ harrysix sounds like he is… he was seen flirting with multiple girls all night hahaha  ↳ harryfour that’s what i’ve been saying: he’s in his single era and i’m here for it lol

harryseven looking good, single, and healthy 🔥 harryeight nathan who??? harrynine lmao jessie moss you will be regretting this loss for the rest of your life !!

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liked by harryone, harrytwo and 75 others

singlerry okay so no signs of harry out partying tonight BUT (!!!) it’s almost 3am in london and he JUST followed this girl on ig

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harryone shut up 😯 are you serious? harrytwo pls !!! to be in harry’s mind at 3am harrythree some people are just so lucky harrythree some people are never me harrythree im never some people harryfour why do i feel like i’ve seen her before? 🤔

↳ harryfive because i’m pretty sure she’s the stylist that works with lambert ↳ harrysix she is, yessss! she was in LA when lambert styled jessie for those red carpets ↳ harryfour so she’s the one who styled jessie when lambert styled harry? ↳ harrysix yes! haha  ↳ harryseven what???

harryeight okay what’s the big deal? sorry i really dont get it  harrynine guys if she’s a stylist and works with lambert maybe it’s work related

↳ harryten i’m sorry but have you seen her profile?? that man did NOT follow her at 3 in the morning bc of work lmaoooo

harryeleven well idk about you but i just followed her, too 🥵 harrytwelve i need more info pls i mean what’s the gossip here? he just followed, right? so…?

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liked by harrystyles, bestie, harry_lambert and 37,019 others

yourinstagram so sorry I haven’t checked my phone lately xxx

view all 105 comments 

bestie except to text me x

↳ harry_lambert and to text me x ↳ yourinstagram indeed x ↳ yourinstagram so if you need me contact my friends, please xxx

someone stunning as usual  sometwo girl that body 😭 share the secret i beg you harryone my jaw lays on the floor harrytwo I will not say it, I will not say it, I will not say it…  harrythree we see you harryyyyy harryfour harryyyyy!!! that was quick lolll  harryfive omg guys stop being embarrassing he’s not 12 give him at least some privacy??

↳ harrysix this is instagram… im pretty sure he knows he’s not going to be private here 🤷‍♀️ ↳ harryfive still!!! stop calling him out!!!  ↳ harryseven yeah… especially bc it could be just work related and here you are making things awkward… so please stop

harryeight girl at least follow him back 😭 poor guy jessiefanone why am I still following you? 🤮 jessiefantwo nathan didn’t like this post!!!!

↳ jessiefanthree no he didn’t!!!! ↳ jessiefanfour that’s the jessie effect!  ↳ jessiefanfive can you imagine knowing guys only care about you when the real ones aren’t available? so sad  ↳ jessiefansix also guys, our theories about what happened make so much sense it’s crazy 

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liked by harry_lambert, bestie, harrystyles and 27,651 others

yourinstagram this week was one of THOSE weeks. meaning I’ve been exhausted all day every day whilst feeling the luckiest on earth with the greatest job that I love more than anything in the world. 

thanks again ＠harry_lambert for bringing me in to your journey. I love you just as much as I love all my mini slutty skirts xxx

view all 56 comments  harry_lambert as much as the mini slutty skirts? 😯  harry_lambert damn that’s real babe, thank you harry_lambert also this is OUR journey x  harry_lambert and also I love you x bestie you two teaming up was the greatest thing that could’ve ever happened to me. I love you both ＠harry_lambert ＠yourinstagram  someone mother of the internet  sometwo the balance between posting work mode pics but still bringing the mini skirts up  cousin do you ever get a family discount or something?

↳ yourinstagram haha come over next week i might have something for you

harryone is he taking you on tour with harry, too? 👀 harrytwo not me checking if he liked her post (of course he did!!) and if she finally followed him back (no she didn’t!!) 

↳ harrythree girl ＠yourinstagram plssssss just follow him ↳ harrythree boy must be just waiting for the day he gets an interaction

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unfortunately only 30 pictures allowed...

[nujeskz]

Orphic - Hwang Hyunjin

Pairing: Hyunjin x designer!reader

Genre: Friends to lovers, mutual pining.

Synopsis: You and Hyunjin have always been inseparable—best friends, confidants, and, unknowingly, each other’s greatest longing. As a designer, he’s your muse, the canvas for every stitch, every fabric choice, every creation filled with the words you’re too afraid to say. But when years of silent yearning come to a breaking point one late night in your studio, a single kiss threatens to unravel everything—fear, hesitation, and the love that’s been woven between you all along.

warnings: no proofread, mutual pining, emotional tension, slight angst, hyunjin is reader's muse, kisses, let me know if I should add anything else! wc: 1.5k

Author's note: in honor of hyunjin's day! this is something i had in mind for a while, I hope you all like it ! And happy birthday to my bubu♡

Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated!

The steady hum of your sewing machine fills the room, a rhythmic pulse that mirrors the quiet thrum of your heartbeat. Fabric scraps litter the floor, colorful remnants of your relentless creativity, while stray threads tangled around your ankles like whispers of unfinished ideas. You lean back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head, exhaustion creeping into your muscles. When your gaze flickers to the clock, it’s nearly midnight.

But that doesn’t stop you.

Without hesitation, you grab your phone, fingers moving with a familiar ease as you type out a message. You don't need to think about the number—you know by heart.

You’re threading a needle when your phone buzzes on the desk, vibrating against the sketchbooks piled high with unfinished designs. The soft glow of the screen reflects the name you’ve come to associate with both comfort and chaos: Hyunjin.

You don’t need to check the message. You already know what it says. He’s on his way, because you called him — like you always do. And he’ll come, because he always does.

A flutter stirs in your chest, one you've tried to suppress more times than you can count and you scold yourself for it. Hyunjin is your best friend, your canvas, your muse. He’s not yours to keep, no matter how much you wish otherwise.

The door swings open without a knock, and there he is, standing in your dimly lit space like he belongs here. His freshly buzzed hair is still damp from a shower, tiny droplets clinging to his skin. He’s wearing a hoodie two sizes too big, the sleeves swallowing his hands, paired with cargo jeans that sag lazily around his waist. He looks nothing like the sleek figure he becomes when draped in your creations—nothing like the version of him the world gets to see.

“What disaster am I modeling today?” he teases, collapsing onto your worn-out couch with a dramatic sigh, legs sprawled like he owns the place. You don’t mind; he’s been a fixture in your space for as long as you can remember, the living canvas to your creations.

You roll your eyes, tossing a cushion at him. “It’s not a disaster. And if you hate my designs so much, stop coming over.”

“I never said I hated them,” he grins, effortlessly catching the pillow. “I just like giving you a hard time.”

Your fingers curl against your sleeve as warmth creeps up your neck. You gesture to the clothing rack, where tonight's creation awaits. The piece you’ve made is bolder than usual — a fitted, asymmetrical jacket, intricate embroidery trailing along the back like poetry, paired with tailored trousers that hug the body just right.

Hyunjin whistles low, standing up to examine the outfit. He stretches, and for a fleeting second, the hem of his oversized hoodie lifts slightly, revealing a sliver of skin. Your pulse stutters.

“You made this for me?” he asks, voice laced with something unreadable.

“Of course,” you murmur, forcing yourself to look away, feigning interest in a stray thread on your sleeve. “Who else would I make it for?”

He disappears into the bathroom to change, and when he steps out, you forget how to breathe.

The sharp angles of his jawline stand out more with the buzzcut, and the clean lines of the outfit mold against him like it was meant for no one else. He’s like a living sculpture, every angle carefully carved, every movement fluid and precise. You’ve memorized his form over the years—his shoulders, the curve of his collarbone, the length of his limbs. But now, standing before you like this, he’s something more.

“Well?” he prompts, spinning around with a smug grin. “Do I look good, or do I look amazing?”

He looks stunning, as always, but it’s not just the clothes. It’s him — the way he carries himself, the way he looks at you like you’re the most interesting person in the room, even when you’re silently stitching for hours.

You swallow hard. “You look… perfect.”

⭑.ᐟ

It wasn’t always like this.

Hyunjin used to live in oversized shirts and beat-up sneakers, his hair long enough to tie back. He had no interest in fashion, claiming it was “too much effort” to care about what he wore. But then you started designing, and he started modeling, and bit by bit, you transformed him.

He let you mold him, shape him, change him.

His closet shifted from basic streetwear to an eclectic collection of pieces that screamed you. And somewhere along the way, your designs changed, too. The pieces you made for him became more daring, more intimate. Low-cut necklines, snug fits, fabrics that clung to his skin like a second layer of you. And not once did he refused.

You taught him how to carry himself differently, how the right clothes could alter his presence. You buzzed his hair on a whim one night, your fingers trembling as they skimmed his scalp. He trusted you completely, letting you shape him like clay, never once questioning why he was always your first call.

And now, when Hyunjin walks into a room, people notice. His presence is magnetic, drawing others in with effortless ease. You pretended it didn’t bother you when he came back with stories of girls slipping their numbers into his pockets. You smiled and nodded, ignoring the ache in your chest.

He never knew the truth — that every stitch, every fabric choice, every outfit was a love letter you were too afraid to write with words.

⭑.ᐟ

“Stand still,” you mutter, adjusting the sleeve of the jacket.

Hyunjin obeys, but you can feel his gaze on you, heavy and intense. You try to ignore it, focusing on the garment instead, but your hands are trembling, fingers brushing against his skin more than necessary.

“Why do I feel like a doll?” Hyunjin murmurs, voice softer now, laced with something unspoken.

“You are,” you reply absentmindedly, fingers brushing against his skin as you adjust the lapel. “My muse.”

His breath hitches, but you don’t notice — or you pretend not to.

Silence settles between you, thick and unyielding. You step into his space again, fingers smoothing down the fabric against his chest. Your brow furrowing in concentration. But Hyunjin… Hyunjin is watching you with something fragile, something raw.

“You’ve been acting weird lately,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, breaking the silence.

Your heart skips a beat. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, shifting slightly. “I don’t know. You get all quiet when I get close to you. Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you whisper, throat tight. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it drop, watching you with a softness that makes your chest ache.

You finish pinning the last adjustment, stepping back to admire your work. But Hyunjin doesn’t move.

He just looks at you. He watches the way your teeth graze your lower lip, the way your brow furrows when you’re deep in thought. And suddenly, he can’t do this anymore.

He’s loved you for years, silently, hopelessly. But standing here, with you so close, your hands on him, your voice calling him your muse like he’s something precious — it breaks him.

And then—

He moves.

His hands find your waist, tentative yet urgent, and before you can react, before you can stop this, he pulls you in and kisses you.

It’s sudden, messy, his lips pressing against yours with a desperation that steals the air from your lungs. Your eyes widen, body frozen in shock, and as quickly as it happens, Hyunjin pulls away, panic flashing across his face.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers, stepping away like he’s been burned. “I—I don’t know why I did that. I’ll go.”

He turns to leave, but you grab his wrist, heart pounding.

And without thinking—without hesitation—you pull him back. And this time, you kiss him.

This time, it’s slower, more certain. Your fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket, holding him close, grounding yourself in him. Hyunjin exhales against your lips, his hands tentative as they find your waist.

When you finally break apart, your foreheads rest together, breaths mingling in the quiet.

“I thought you’d be mad,” Hyunjin whispers.

A shakly laugh bubbles from your throat. “I’ve been in love with you forever, Hyun.”

His eyes widen. “What?”

“That’s why you’re my muse,” you confess, voice breaking. “I needed an excuse to keep you close.”

Hyunjin lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head as he pulls you into his arms. “I thought it was one-sided.”

You shake your head, burying your face in his chest. “You idiot.”

And when he kisses you again, there’s no hesitation, no fear. Just love, stitched between the seams of every design, woven into every thread, waiting—patiently—to be unraveled.

That night, you don’t finish your adjustments. The blazer lies forgotten on the floor as Hyunjin pulls you onto the couch, cradling your face like you’re the most fragile, precious thing in the world.

And maybe you are — but so is he.

Your muse. Your best friend. Your love.

Yours. Finally.

© 2025 all rights reserved to user nujeskz

[ribbonedreverie]

Hello!! I saw that “late night drunken call” piece you did and it was quite literally one of the best things i’ve read on here, Do you think you could Atsushi, Ranpo, Chuuya & Dazai realizing their in love with a childhood friend of theirs? Maybe their doing something domestic and it just hits them that, yeah they could do this everyday specially if its You they do it with

Thank you so much for your kind words! I absolutely adored writing this request, and I hope you enjoy the piece just as much as I did creating it. I’m still recovering from some major life changes, but I was able to write these out before everything shifted in my life—and, well, I might have gone a little overboard for a certain character heheh. But can you blame me? There’s something so special about love settling in during the quietest moments!

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Chuuya had never needed anyone.

Not when he was a kid with fists too small to fight back. Not when he found a home among The Sheep, carving out his place with blood and bruises, with sharp words and sharper resolve.

But you had been different.

You weren’t a fighter, not like the rest of them, not like him. You weren’t in The Sheep, weren’t caught in the hunger for power and territory. And yet—you were there. Always there. You were the one waiting after every brawl, arms crossed, foot tapping in impatience.

“You’re an idiot, Chuuya.”

You’d say it like a scolding, but your hands were steady as you cleaned the blood from his cheek, as you traced the split in his lip with the kind of gentleness he didn’t know how to handle.

“What if one day you don’t come back?”

He’d scoff, roll his eyes, tell you he wasn’t that easy to kill. “Yeah? Then who the hell’s gonna take care of you?” he’d tease, but some part of him—some deep, quiet part—liked that you worried. Because you were soft where he was jagged. You were warmth in a world that had only ever taught him how to burn, and without ever asking for anything in return, you stayed.

Then, everything had fallen apart.

Betrayal. Lies. Mori’s outstretched hand, the weight of something heavier than he had ever known. And through it all, there was you. Sitting beside him in the cold, your shoulder pressed against his, your presence grounding him when nothing else could.

“You’re not alone,” you had whispered, voice steady, as if willing it to be true.

But then you were gone.

Scattered across Japan with the rest of The Sheep, only distant messages exchanged. But he still answered, always.

Because it had always been you.

And now, after all this time, you were here again.

Older. Wiser. Beautiful in a way that made something in his chest ache. And tonight, you were tending to his wounds, your hands as careful as ever.

“You’re still reckless,” you murmur, shaking your head.

He snorts, tilting his head back against the couch. “And you’re still a pain in the ass.”

You press the alcohol-soaked cotton against his cheek harder than necessary, making him hiss.

“Shit—! I take it back, okay?! Damn,” he grumbles, glaring at you through narrowed eyes.

You raise a brow. “Oh? You’re not used to consequences by now?”

Chuuya exhales sharply through his nose, the corner of his lips twitching. “I can deal with consequences. What I can’t deal with is you sittin’ there, lookin’ at me like that.”

Your hands still. “…Like what?”

His eyes flicker over your face—your furrowed brows, the way your lips press together like you’re holding something back.

“Like you’re still worried about me,” he mutters. “Like you never stopped.”

Silence stretches between you, thick with something unspoken.

You break it first, dipping the cotton into the antiseptic again. “Maybe I didn’t.”

Chuuya watches you carefully, eyes sharp, searching, as if he’s trying to find something in your expression that he already knows is there.

Something in his chest twists. He exhales slowly. “Tch. You’re a real pain, y’know that?”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah? Well, someone’s gotta be.”

The words should be easy, should slip out of his mouth like a well-practiced joke, but instead, they sit heavy on his tongue, thick and aching.

The air shifts.

It’s subtle at first, a slow, creeping tension wrapping around you both, thick and suffocating.

You’re too close. Close enough that he can feel the warmth of your breath against his skin. Close enough that he can see the way your lashes tremble, the way your lips part slightly as you concentrate.

His pulse pounds in his ears. He should say something—should crack a joke, should pull away, should do anything to break the moment.

But he doesn’t.

Because suddenly, the realization crashes over him all at once, sharp and unrelenting.

It had always been you.

Not just in the way you worried about him, not just in the way you stayed when everyone else left. Not just in the way he found himself reaching for his phone when the nights stretched too long and the weight of everything felt too much.

But in this. In the way you exist here, in his space, in his life, as if you had never left.

And he—

He wants this.

Not just tonight. Not just when he’s bruised and beaten and letting you take care of him.

He wants this every day.

He wants to wake up to the sound of your voice.

He wants to come home knowing you’ll be there, waiting, a scolding on your lips and a softness in your eyes.

He wants to reach across the sheets in the middle of the night and feel you.

Not some meaningless one-night distraction, not the cold emptiness of his penthouse, not the quiet ache of loneliness he’s spent years pretending doesn’t exist.

He wants you.

And it terrifies him.

His hands clench against his knees. His throat feels too tight. But then—you look up. And there’s something in your expression—something hesitant, something searching. Like maybe, just maybe, you feel it too.

Chuuya doesn’t think.

Before he can remind himself why this is dangerous, before he can force himself to step back, to pretend—he leans in.

Slowly.

Like he’s testing the waters, like he’s giving you a chance to pull away. You don’t. Your breath hitches, your lips part slightly, and that’s all the invitation he needs. His lips capture yours in a slow, deliberate kiss—one that starts hesitant but quickly grows hungry, desperate.

Your fingers curl into his shirt, your body leaning into his, and he can’t help the groan that rumbles in his chest as he deepens the kiss, tilting his head, his hands finding your waist.

“Shit,” he breathes against your lips, voice rough, almost strained. “I should’ve done this years ago.”

You laugh—breathless, warm, familiar. “Yeah. You should have.”

Chuuya exhales sharply, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands tightening around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

It’s too much—the heat, the years of unspoken longing, the way your body melts against his like you were always meant to be there.

And for the first time in his life, Chuuya isn’t thinking.

He isn’t thinking about The Sheep.

He isn’t thinking about the Port Mafia.

He isn’t thinking about what this means, about what happens next.

There is only this.

Only you.

Only the way you sigh against his lips as he pulls you closer, the way your fingers tangle in his hair, the way you whisper his name like it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.

And for the first time in years—maybe for the first time ever—Chuuya lets himself want.

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Atsushi has known you for as long as he can remember.

There are memories of the orphanage that have blurred over time—faded like the ink of an old, forgotten book—but you have always remained clear. A fixture in the storm, a light in the suffocating darkness of those cold, empty halls.

He remembers the way you shielded him from the whispers of the other kids, the ones who recoiled from him like he was something diseased. He remembers the nights when the hunger clawed at his stomach, the way you’d slip half of your stale bread into his hands beneath the dinner table, never meeting his eyes but always pushing it toward him, whispering, Eat, please.

There were nights when the loneliness was unbearable—when the punishments from the headmaster left his body aching, when the weight of being unwanted sat like a lead weight on his chest. And then there was you, slipping through the cracks of his misery, curling up beside him under thin blankets, your forehead pressed to his shoulder, whispering stories of a life beyond the orphanage, a life where the two of you could be free.

“One day, Atsushi, we’ll leave this place together. We’ll have a real home. We’ll be happy.”

And maybe, in those moments, he let himself believe you. But then, life pulled you in different directions.

He was thrown into the world with nothing but the echoes of his past clinging to his ribs like ghosts. And you—you found your own way, carving a path outside of the orphanage, beyond the pain and fear that had once bound you both.

Yet, somehow, you never let go of him.

Even when he joined the ADA, even when he tried to convince himself that the past didn’t matter, that no one needed to remember him, you still did. Checking in, making sure he had someone to come home to, grounding him in a way that nothing else ever could.

And now, sitting beside you in the hush of his small apartment, a forgotten movie flickering on the television, it hits him. Like a thread finally pulled taut, like something that has been waiting—brewing—just beneath the surface, unnoticed until now.

The scent of buttered popcorn lingers in the air. The city hums beyond the window, indifferent to the quiet shift happening inside him.

You stretch slightly, shifting on the couch, your knee brushing against his, close in a way that has never felt unfamiliar. The soft fabric of your sweater slips from your shoulder, revealing a sliver of bare skin. It’s such a small thing, something that shouldn’t make his breath catch, but suddenly he feels everything.

“You’re zoning out,” you say, amused, nudging his arm. Atsushi blinks, throat dry. “Huh?” You tilt your head. “I said, if you didn’t want to watch this, we could’ve picked something else.”

“No, I—” He stops himself, swallows thickly. “It’s fine. I just… got lost for a second.”

Lost.

That’s a word for it.

Because now, everything about this moment feels like too much. The way you smile at the screen, the way you absently steal from his popcorn like it’s yours, the way you exist here, in his space, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like you belong. And he wants that. Not just tonight. Not just sometimes.

He wants to wake up to the sound of your laughter, wants to come home knowing you’ll be there. He wants to live in this quiet, in this warmth, in this easy, thoughtless togetherness that no one else has ever given him. Because with you, it has never been about pity. It has never been about obligation, about repaying some invisible debt.

You have always just stayed. And maybe—maybe he should have realized it sooner. Maybe he should have known that the reason he never let go of you, even after leaving the orphanage, even after trying so hard to forget where he came from, was because you were always home.

“Atsushi?”

Your voice is softer now, laced with concern. He swallows, fingers clenching slightly against the fabric of his sweatpants. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

No.

No, because his heart is beating too fast, and his head is too full of thoughts he isn’t ready to say out loud, and—and he’s in trouble.

Because this isn’t something fleeting. This isn’t something he can ignore. It’s in the way you’ve been woven into his past, in the way you’ve always been there, even when he thought no one else would be.

And it’s in the way he wants you in his future.

He exhales slowly, forcing himself to smile. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I just…” His words trail off as he looks at you, really looks at you and suddenly, saying never mind feels like a betrayal. Because the words are there, thick in his throat, threatening to slip out.

But instead, he swallows them back, forcing a small chuckle. “Never mind. It’s nothing.” You raise an eyebrow, unconvinced, but you let it go, leaning back into the couch. “If you say so.”

Atsushi exhales, watching you, feeling the weight of his realization settle deep into his bones.

Maybe he’s not ready to say it.

But one day—one day soon—he will.

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Ranpo had always known things before anyone else.

It wasn’t arrogance—just fact. He could pick apart a lie before it was spoken, unravel a mystery before the pieces were laid out, see the ending before the story even began.

So, really, it should have been obvious. But somehow, it wasn’t. Somehow, he’s only realizing it now—watching you from across the kitchen as you move around with practiced ease, the warm scent of freshly baked pastries filling the air.

-

He met you when he was still just a boy, before he knew what it meant to be the greatest detective, before Fukuzawa gave him a place to belong.

Back then, he had no patience for people who couldn’t keep up. The world was full of slow thinkers, people who needed explanations for things that should have been obvious. He was always two steps ahead, and everyone else just…wasn’t.

Then you came along.

You were new in town—just another face in a sea of ordinary ones. He wasn’t interested. But for whatever reason, you kept talking to him. Kept appearing in the little moments between his games, between the puzzles he set up for himself just to stay entertained.

He remembers the first time you challenged him, bold and unafraid.

“Bet you can’t guess what I have in my pocket.”

A ridiculous game. A waste of his time.

“Too easy,” he had scoffed, barely sparing you a glance. “It’s a piece of candy. You always keep something sweet with you. Probably strawberry-flavored. And you probably took two—one for now, one for later.”

Your face had lit up, more impressed than you should have been. Instead of getting annoyed, instead of being put off by how different he was, you grinned and held up the exact candy he’d described.

“Okay, maybe you are as smart as you say.”

And just like that, you kept showing up.

You never slowed him down. You never told him he was being too much. You just were there, walking beside him, keeping up with him in ways no one else ever had.

And when Fukuzawa took him in, you never left.

Maybe he should have realized it then—what that meant.

-

“Ranpo,” you call without looking up, setting out a plate of his favorite sweets, “if you don’t come eat these while they’re still warm, I’m feeding them to someone else.”

He gasps in mock offense. “What?! Betrayal! I thought we had something special!”

You roll your eyes. “Then get over here, drama king.”

And he does—because, well, he was going to anyway. But this time, he notices things.

The golden light from the setting sun catching on your hair. The way your lips quirk up when you’re waiting for his reaction, pretending not to care but still watching closely. The flour dusted on your cheek—so casual, so you, so…so his.

That thought lingers. Threads itself into something deeper, something he can’t quite name. His stomach flips—not from the food. Ranpo narrows his eyes at you. “Wait a second.” You glance up mid-bite, blinking. “What?”

He leans forward, elbows on the counter, scrutinizing you like a puzzle he should have solved ages ago. “You like me.” You choke. “Excuse me?”

He grins, delighted, pointing at you. “You like me. That’s why you bake for me, right? You want me to fall for you, huh?” You sputter, face turning red. “I bake for you because you’d starve otherwise, you idiot—”

“Ah-ha! So you do care.” He waggles his finger. “Caught you~” You groan, covering your face. “I hate you.”

“Nooo, you love me.” You throw a dish towel at him. “Eat your damn pastries, Ranpo.” He laughs, victorious, popping one into his mouth. But as he chews, he frowns slightly, staring at you again.

That weird flip in his stomach hasn’t gone away.

…That’s annoying.

Because now, he’s thinking about things he’s never really thought about before. Like what it would be like to come home to this every day—not just the food, but you. What it would be like to reach for your hand without thinking. What it would be like if you smiled at him the way you smile at those cheesy romance novels you swear you don’t read.

His heart does something stupid.

…Hah. That’s really annoying. He scowls at his pastry. And then, after a pause—

“…Hey.”

You sigh dramatically. “What now?”

He leans his chin on his hand, watching you with sharp green eyes, his smile softer than usual.

“Make these for me again tomorrow?”

You stare at him for a second—like you’re trying to figure out if he’s being serious. Then, finally, you roll your eyes, turning away—but not before he catches the way your lips twitch like you’re trying not to smile.

“…Yeah, yeah.”

Ranpo hums, taking another bite, letting the thought settle.

Yeah.

He could get used to this.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙

Dazai has never believed in permanence.

People leave. Promises break. Love fades like the last embers of a cigarette, nothing but smoke curling through empty air. He has always been fine with that—really, he has. Love was just another game, another meaningless indulgence he could slip in and out of as easily as a well-rehearsed lie. Something to entertain him for a while before the inevitable end.

And yet—yet you have always remained.

Not in the way most people do, orbiting in and out of his life like flickering streetlights, here one moment and gone the next. No, you are constant. Unwavering in ways that make his skin itch, in ways he refuses to acknowledge for too long because that would mean something, and Dazai is not the kind of man who wants things that last. But now—now he’s watching you fold his laundry.

And it hits him like a gunshot to the ribs.

-

He met you when he was fifteen.

It was an accident—one of those strange moments where the universe places someone in your path with no warning, no reason, and no way to take it back.

Odasaku had been the one to bring you around, mentioning something about a stray kid who needed a place to stay for a while. Soft-hearted bastard, Dazai had thought at the time, amused but uninterested. People like that didn’t last in the Port Mafia.

But then—then you had looked at him.

Not with fear, not with calculation, not even with admiration. Just a glance, assessing, steady, like you could see through the sharp edges he had carefully built around himself. Like you saw something else in him.

And for the first time in his life, Dazai felt like he had no idea what someone was thinking.

He should have left it at that—should have let you remain just another passing figure in the endless cycle of faces that blurred together in his memory.

But you stayed.

Even when he was cruel, even when he was impossible, even when he threw words like knives just to see if you would flinch—you stayed.

“You don’t belong here,” he had told you once, fingers curling around the rim of his glass, voice edged with something he wouldn’t name.

“And you do?” you had shot back, unimpressed. The corner of his lips had twitched.

Maybe that’s when it started.

-

Now?

Now you sit cross-legged on the floor, sleeves pushed up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt before folding it into a neat little square. It’s such a simple thing. Something insignificant. And yet—something about it makes his breath catch.

He’s used to people taking care of him, but not like this. Not in a way that is so casual, so thoughtless, like you don’t even realize you’re doing it. Like it’s just natural to you. You glance up, noticing his stare.

“What?”

He leans against the doorframe, smirking, hiding the way his fingers twitch at his sides. “Oh, nothing~ Just admiring how adorable you look playing house.”

You roll your eyes, tossing a balled-up sock at him. “Brat.”

He catches it effortlessly, laughing, but the sound is hollow in his ears. Because suddenly, something in him is unraveling. There’s a shift—a slow, creeping realization curling around his ribs, tightening, constricting. It’s not just the laundry. It’s not just the way you move around his apartment like you belong there.

It’s everything.

The way you remember exactly how he takes his coffee. The way you always have a spare bandage in your bag, just in case. The way you let him be himself—not Dazai, the detective, not Dazai, the former mafia executive, not Dazai, the man with too many ghosts clawing at his skin—but just Dazai. The way you never ask for more than he’s willing to give, yet somehow, he wants to give you everything.

That thought is terrifying. Because permanence is not something he has ever wanted. And yet—yet the idea of you not being here, not sitting in his space, not filling the quiet gaps of his life with something warm, something unbearably real—

That is worse. Far worse. He swallows, the weight of it sitting heavy in his chest, sinking into his bones. This isn’t a game. This isn’t something he can slip out of when it becomes inconvenient. This is something he wants. And for the first time in his life, Dazai doesn’t know what to do with that.

You glance up again, catching the shift in his expression, and your brow furrows slightly. “What’s wrong?” The words are there. Sitting on his tongue, thick and aching.

Stay.

Don’t leave.

I think I—

But instead, he flashes a grin, effortlessly slipping back into the role he knows best. “If I say you, will you kiss me?” You scoff. “In your dreams.” He pouts dramatically, but it’s just for show.

Because the truth is—

He will dream of you tonight.

And for the first time, he doesn’t think he’ll mind.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙

[wzrd-wheezes]

The Art of Hating You : Part One - Sirius Black x Reader.

AN - hello it has been a while but i have finally finished the first part of this. pls pls pls let me know what you think and give it a reblog if you enjoyed! i've already started part two so if enough of you like it, i can post it soon. thank u love u bye x

3.6k words

Contains: Arranged marriage Sirius x Reader. Mentions of alcohol, some swearing - nothing too bad in this part.

The clinking of crystal glasses was deafening, a symphony of wealth and power all concentrated into a single ballroom. Y/N stood by the towering bay window, staring out at the sprawling grounds of the manor. There was a muted hum of conversation mixed with the gentle music of the band behind her, though the blood was pumping in her ears, almost muffling it. 

“Stand up straight,” her mother’s voice cut sharply at her shoulder, snapping her back to reality, “People are watching.” 

She adjusted her posture automatically, straightening her back and lifting her chin. A marionette pulled into position by invisible strings. Like a bloody puppet, she thought bitterly as her mother’s polished nails adjusted the sleeve of her gown before drifting off. 

A server passed by with a silver tray and Y/N’s fingers reached out instinctively for a flute of champagne. It took all of her self-control not to tip the entire contents down her throat and immediately grab another one. The bubbles fizzed against her lips as her father’s voice broke through the noise. 

“Ladies and gentleman,” his voice rang across the room, immediately silencing the chatter, “I just wanted to thank you all for attending tonight as we celebrate the announcement of the union of two families. I also want to thank Mr and Mrs Black for welcoming us into their spectacular home and hosting, what I hope, will be a very memorable evening.” 

Y/N’s stomach clenched, but she kept her expression neutral. She had been dreading this day for weeks. Its presence lingered in the distance, gradually growing closer and closer until she couldn’t escape it any more. The finality of it, spoken aloud to a room of hundreds of people, felt like a guillotine blade suspended above her. 

“Some engagement party, eh?”  

The voice came from behind her, low and close to her ear. Soft and familiar. 

“Remus! I didn’t think you’d be able to make it!” she exclaimed, relief flooding her chest as she lowered her voice, “Thank God you’re here.”  

“My flight landed a few hours ago,” he smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “Thought you might need some moral support and, well, Mum and Dad weren’t going to let me get away with not showing my face.”  

“Remind me to thank them for that later. I need all the support I can get.” she whispered, glancing towards the centre of the room where her father was still preaching about “legacy” and “union”. 

Remus followed her gaze and grimaced. Y/N nodded solemnly and drained the remaining champagne from the flute. Seamlessly, Remus grabbed another from a passing server’s tray and handed it to her. 

“That’s why you’re my best friend,” she softly clinked her glass against his own. 

“Always at your service,” he bowed jokingly and then leaned in slightly, “So, he’s here somewhere I assume?” 

She didn’t need to ask who he meant. The weight of Sirius Black’s presence had been pressing all night, even though she had done everything to avoid him. 

She hesitated, letting her eyes drift over the room. The ballroom was crowded: older men in pristine suits were smoking cigars by the balcony, their wives dripped in diamonds and murmured conspiratorially over flutes of champagne, and the younger guests milled about in groups that were carefully curated by their parents. 

And then, there was him. Leaning against the mahogany bar, perfectly at ease in the busy room. He was infuriatingly composed as ever, dressed in a tailored suit that he made look effortlessly dishevelled. His tie was loose, the top few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a sliver of his tattooed chest. He looked like he belonged and didn’t belong all at one. A study in rebellion with polished edges. 

As if he could feel her gaze, Sirius turned his head and caught her staring. A slow, deliberate smirk curled at the corner of his mouth and he tilted his head slightly, one of his eyebrows arching. To her horror, he pushed off the bar and began making his way towards them. 

“Lupin,” he drawled, his voice low and smooth, “It’s been a while.” 

Remus raised his glass in acknowledgment, “It has indeed.” 

Sirius’s smirk twitched into a grin as his eyes flickered to Y/N, “And you,” he said, gaze locking onto hers, “You look...thrilled.” 

“Absolutely ecstatic,” she said flatly, meeting his stare head on, “happiest day of my life.” 

Sirius chuckled and reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, relighting the cigarette that dangled between his fingers. 

“You’re smoking.” she pointed out sharply. He exhaled a curl of smoke, unfazed,  

“Observant as ever.” 

Y/N clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to swat the cigarette from his hand, “You’re not supposed to smoke in here.”  

“And yet here I stand,” he gestured grandly to the room, “Alive and thriving. Remarkable, isn’t it?” 

Remus stifled a laugh behind his glass, earning a glare from Y/N. Sirius didn’t miss the exchange and turned his attention back to his old friend, his smirk softening into something genuine.  

“It’s good to see you, mate. Really. How long’s it been?” 

“Three years-ish, I reckon.” Remus replied, his voice friendlier now, “Last time we crossed paths you were getting thrown out of the Gryffin Club for setting off fireworks in the billiard room.” 

Sirius barked out a laugh, “Ah, yes. A classic. Who knew aristocrats were so touchy about singed velvet? Well, in my defence, leaving fireworks unattended in a store cupboard wasn’t their wisest move.”  

“A locked store cupboard, if I remember rightly.” Remus added, grinning. 

Sirius shrugged, flicking ash into an ornate plant pot nearby as though the memory pleased him, “Details. Though, if I remember rightly, it was your lighter that got things going.” 

Remus chuckled and clinked his glass against the other boys, “Touche.”  

Y/N rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin, “Perhaps you two should have been the ones set up to marry each other.” 

Sirius’s eyes snapped back to hers, his smirk turning wolfish, “Sorry, darling. I forgot tonight wasn’t a reunion for Remus and I. Tonight’s all about us – The happy couple.”  

Her champagne glass froze halfway to her lips, her fingers tightening around the delicate stem, “Don't call me that.” she said, her voice low and sharp.  

“Why not? You are my fiancée, are you not?” he asked innocently, though the glint in his eyes betrayed him, “The whole room is here to celebrate our impending union.” 

Her expression didn’t waver, although her heart was hammering in her chest, “If you’ll excuse me,” she said icily, “I think I see someone I actually want to talk to.” 

As she strode away, she could hear Sirius’s laughter behind her. She didn’t look back. Instead, wove her way through the crowd, the familiar faces of family friends and society elites blurring together as her mind raced. 

It wasn’t until she reached the edge of the ballroom, near the double doors leading out to the garden, that she let herself pause. The cool night air drifted in, nipping against her heated cheeks. For a moment, she just stood there, breathing deeply, trying to steady herself. 

“I thought you might come this way,” a voice said softly. 

She turned to see Remus standing a few feet away, his expression gentle. He held out a fresh glass of champagne. “You looked like you needed this.” 

She accepted it wordlessly, staring into the golden liquid like it could fix all of her issues. 

“Do you ever wonder,” she said after a long moment, “what it would’ve been like to be born into a normal family? One where your future wasn’t mapped out before you even knew how to walk?” 

Remus leaned against the doorframe, his own glass dangling loosely in his hand, “Every day.” he admitted quietly. 

She looked at him, her expression softening, “You’re lucky you got out, you know.” 

He didn’t respond, but the shadow that passed over his face told her that he knew exactly what she meant. Remus jerked his head towards the garden and Y/N followed him.  

The cool air was a relief from the stifling atmosphere in the ballroom. The garden lights twinkled softly, casting long shadows across the pristine hedges and gravel paths. Remus settled down on one of the stone benches, pulling a crumpled packet of cigarettes from his pocket. He tapped one out and offered her the pack. 

“I don’t know how you put up with him for so many years,” Y/N muttered, sitting down next to him, 

“He’s not all bad. Though he does seem to have a knack for getting under your skin.” he tilted his head back. 

“Under my skin?” she huffed, reaching down to loosen the strap on one of her high heels, “He’s practically burrowed into my soul just to annoy me.” 

Remus smirked, blowing out a puff of smoke, “You make it sound so romantic.”  

She shot him a glare, “Don’t even joke about that.” 

“I’m not joking,” he said lightly, “You know, there’s a fine line between love and hate.” 

“That line doesn’t exist here,” she retorted quickly, crossing her arms, “It’s all hate. Pure and simple.” 

Remus stayed silent, his smile lingering as he tapped the ash from his cigarette into a nearby rosebush. The faint glow of the garden lights caught the curve of his face, his eyes flickering with amusement that he didn’t bother to voice. 

Their quiet moment was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. Y/N stiffened, her fingers curling around the edge of the bench. 

“You’ve not stolen my fiancée, have you, Lupin?” 

Remus turned his head towards the source of the voice, unbothered, “If I had you’d only have yourself to blame,” Remus joked, “Should’ve kept a closer eye on her.” 

“I’d hate to have to duel you for her.” Sirius quipped, “It’s such a bother – laundry bills for bloodstained silk and all that.” 

Sirius stepped into the moonlight, his tailored suit still managing to look deliberately rumpled, as though he’d gone to great lengths to seem as effortlessly dishevelled as possible. 

“And yet here you are, conveniently lurking in the shadows with her,” he countered, grin widening as he looked at Y/N, “Careful, sweetheart. People might start talking.” 

“Let them,” she snapped, standing abruptly, “Maybe it’ll save me the trouble of this farce of an engagement.” 

“Oh, don’t be cruel,” Sirius feigned a wounded expression, “You’ll hurt my feelings.” 

Remus stubbed out his cigarette on the bench and stood up, “I’m going to need infinitely more champagne if you expect me to bear witness to this all night. I’ll see you both back inside.” 

Sirius stepped closer to her after Remus’s departure, “You ran off so quickly, I thought perhaps I’d done something to upset you.”  

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, turning away from him, “If only you were that self-aware.” 

He stepped closer still, his voice dropping, “Steady. People might start to think that you actually hate me.” 

She spun back around to face him, her chin tilted defiantly, “I do.” 

“Good.” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “Hate makes things far more interesting. And, for the record, I’m not too fond of you either.” 

Y/N held his gaze, her heart thundering in her chest despite her calm facade, “Glad we’re on the same page.” 

Sirius smiled again, his expression infuriatingly nonchalant, “Crystal clear.” 

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to continue trying to avoid you for the rest of the evening.” 

As she re-entered the bustling room, the noise and brightness felt suffocating after the peace of the garden. She manoeuvred through the crowd smiling and nodding with the practiced ease of someone who had been raised to perform. 

“Y/N.” her mother’s voice drew her attention and she turned to find her mother standing with a group of guests, all of whom were watching her with polite interest. She plastered on a smile, stepping into the circle, immediately being swept up in the niceties of conversation. 

Her practiced smile never faltered, even as her mind raced. But then, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him. Sirius had returned to the room. He didn’t look her way, engaging effortlessly with a cluster of guests near the bar.  

Y/N forced herself to focus on the conversation, they were talking wedding venues, but her resolve crumbled when her father strode purposefully across the room. 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he announced, all hum of conversation vanishing immediately, “As you are all aware, tonight is a celebration of the union between two great families. One that promises to strengthen our legacy and secure the future for generations to come.” 

Y/N’s throat tightened as the room erupted into applause. 

“And what better way to seal such an occasion than with a little tradition?” he continued, “Y/N, Sirius. Join us.”  

Every muscle in her body screamed at her to run off. She wished that the server that was walking past with a champagne bottle would crack her over the head with it. But her body betrayed her and she found herself moving towards the centre of the room.  

For the first time that night, Sirius’s smirk was gone, replaced by a look of mild surprise as he stepped forward, his cigarette hastily extinguished. Her father gestured grandly to the band who struck up a waltz and the crowd parted, leaving an open space in the centre of the room. All eyes on them. 

Sirius reached her side, offering his hand, “Shall we?”  

She wanted to glare at him but placed her hand in his. As he pulled her into position, his grip on her waist firm, he leaned in just enough for her to hear him over the music. 

“Tell me,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear, “Did you know about this little spectacle, or are you just as blindsided as I am?” 

Her jaw tightened as they began to move, “If I’d known,” she hissed through a fake smile, “I’d have faked the flu.” 

“Glad to know we’re equally as miserable.” his lips quirked up into a smile, his eyes scanning the room, “My father told me people were asking why we haven’t been joined at the hip all evening. I told him we were both...mingling.” 

Her grip on his shoulder tightened just enough to make him glance down at her, “How generous of you to cover for me.” Her steps remained perfectly in time, “And what did he say to that?” 

“Oh, you know, the usual,” he replied, his tone breezy, “Something about how mingling is well and good, but appearances must be maintained. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking that the happy couple isn’t happy. Terribly romantic, isn’t it?” 

“Do you enjoy making everything sound insufferable or does it just come naturally?” 

“It’s a gift, really. But let’s not pretend you’re any better at playing the part, darling. That smile of yours could make a baby cry.” 

“Maybe if you stopped talking, I wouldn’t have to force it.” 

They moved through another turn. To anyone watching, they looked the perfect pair: graceful and composed, perfectly in sync. Yet, deep hatred was bubbling beneath the surface. Eventually, the dance ended, the music drawing to a soft close. Applause echoed through the room as they pulled apart. 

Sirius stepped back, “Always a pleasure, sweetheart. Shall we make the rounds? Wouldn’t want anyone getting suspicious now, would we?” 

“Of course not. I wouldn’t want to ruin your sparkling reputation.” 

He held out his arm for her and she took it, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow as they floated around the room. 

Sunlight streamed through the towering windows of Y/N’s bedroom, too bright and too unforgiving. She groaned loudly and buried her face into her pillow. Her head was pounding, a clear victim to the bottomless champagne. Eventually, she sat up, pressing her palms against her eyes as if it could block out the memory of Sirius Black’s insufferable smirk.  

He had played his part well last night. Despite his less than stellar reputation, people seemed to fawn over Sirius. He was the black sheep of his family, infamous for his defiance of their traditions. His face often graced the tabloids alongside stories of wild parties, broken rules and a long line of flings. It didn’t tarnish him. If anything, it only added to his appeal.  

When she finally emerged from her room, the house was still and quiet, save for the distant clatter of breakfast preparations in the kitchen. She could have stayed in bed much longer but the pounding in her skull made it impossible. Fresh air, she thought. That would help. 

She regretted the decision instantly. 

The morning air was sharp against her skin as she stepped out onto the terrace. There he was, standing by the stone balustrade with a cigarette balanced between his fingers. The warm morning light caught in his tousled hair, giving him the air of someone who had either just rolled out of bed or hadn’t bothered sleeping at all. 

She scoffed and crossed her arms when she saw him, “Should’ve known you’d still be lurking.”  

Without even turning, he took a slow drag from his cigarette, “And yet, you walked right into my presence. Starting to think that you might actually enjoy it.” 

She rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see, “Hardly.” 

Finally, he turned to face her, an infuriating smirk plastered on his face. “It seems all that champagne you downed last night has muddled your memory.” His voice was smooth, teasing, “This is my house, remember?” 

Her fingers twitched with the sudden urge to shove him over the balustrade. 

Instead, she let out a slow breath through her nose, levelling him with a glare. “Trust me, Black, I haven’t forgotten whose house I’m imprisoned in.” 

He chuckled at that, a lazy stream of smoke escaping from his lips. “Imprisoned? Dramatic, even for you.” 

“Oh, I’m dramatic? Your parents are the ones who decided I should move in like some weird prisoner.” She gestured vaguely towards the manor, “I half expected them to have a dungeon prepared.” 

Sirius smiled, tapping ash from his cigarette, “Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” he said smoothly, “The dungeons been out of use for years. I think Mum uses it to store wine now.” 

She huffed out a laugh despite herself, shaking her head as she turned back toward the railing. The morning was deceptively peaceful – dew clung to the hedges, birds flitting between the trees, the world blissfully unaware that her life had be forcibly intertwined with his. 

“I assume we’re expected to play the doting couple again today?” she asked dryly. 

“That depends. Do you want to cause a scandal before breakfast?” 

“Tempting.” she mused, “Though I imagine your parents would spontaneously combust if I threw myself off the terrace.”  

“Perhaps. Although the headlines would be amusing to say the least.” he turned to face her, “I can picture it now. ‘Y/N L/N’s death – tragic accident or sweet escape? Find out on page 3’” 

She let out another laugh, “Your parents must really hate me, huh?” 

Sirius arched a brow, “Hate you? Fuck no. They adore you. You’re pure-blooded, well bred, and – miraculously- not me. You’re their dream daughter-in-law.” 

“Exactly.” she deadpanned, “They like me. Which is why I find it cruel and unusual that they’ve forced me to live with you.” 

He grinned, wicked and amused. “Maybe they’re hoping I’ll charm you into loving me.”  

“More likely, they’re hoping I’ll kill you and save them the trouble.” 

“You wouldn’t last a week without me, love.” 

She turned her expression mockingly serious, “You’re right. I’d be devasted. Absolutely inconsolable. I’d do a Queen Vic and wear nothing but black for the rest of my life. Mourning for at least a day. Maybe two.” 

Sirius clutched his chest theatrically, “You wound me.” 

“Not yet.” She muttered. 

During the first weeks of living at the Black estate, Y/N had gotten quite good at avoiding Sirius as much as possible. It was difficult at times. Every hallway, every grand staircase and every insufferably elegant room seemed to contain him at some point. He was everywhere. Sprawled out on the library sofa with a cigarette dangling from his lips, arguing with the house staff in the kitchens, strolling in at ungodly hours after doing god-knows-what. 

She had become very good at ignoring him. Until now. 

“It’s getting out of hand, Orion.” Mrs Black’s voice cut sharply across the corridor. Y/N stopped in her tracks, turning to linger outside of the door.  

“Sirius is an embarrassment. He’s reckless. Irresponsible – he refuses to carry the weight of this family’s name.” her voice continued. 

“I agree.” His father’s voice rumbled, “But marrying her might be the only thing that reins him in. If he ruins this, Walburga, we lose everything. The contract is binding.” 

Her stomach twisted. Contract? She knew their engagement was arranged but this made it sound almost sinister. 

“Do you truly think this will change him?” Walburga scoffed, “The boy is incapable of loyalty. He’ll self-destruct before the year is over.” 

She should have left. Walked away and pretended that she never heard a thing. But before she could, a hand suddenly closed around her wrist. 

She gasped, spinning on her heel, only to meet a familiar pair of stormy grey eyes. 

For once, there was no teasing smirk on his face. Just something unreadable.  

“Enjoying yourself, eavesdropper?” he muttered. 

Y/N opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself. There was something off about him, he wasn’t his usual arrogant, unbothered self. Sirius knew what his parents thought of him, but now he knew that she did to. 

She yanked her wrist out of his grip, "I- I didn’t mean to-” 

“Save it.” He raked a hand through his hair. His expression had turned into something distant, “Welcome to the wonderful world of being a Black.” 

Then, without another word, he turned and walked off, leaving her standing alone.  

For the first time, Y/N felt something unexpected. Pity.  

And she hated it. 

[buddiecanon8x11]

I wish more than ever that I had finished the fic I planned for the hiatus between s7 and s8 because LITERALYYYYY look at this:

“I thought you understood.” Misery chokes his voice.

“Well, I think I’m starting to.”

The resignation in Tommy’s voice puts Buck on the defensive. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that for you, he’s always going to come first,” Tommy says. “Kid, look, I get it. We’ve all been there. It’s practically a right of passage.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Gay—or bi, in your case—guy falls in unrequited love with his straight best friend?” Tommy says. “It’s a classic for a reason. Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us.”

Tommy’s tone is mild, sympathetic, even. Buck feels like he’s been slapped. “That’s not what this is at all.”

Tommy snorts. Snorts. Like Buck is some kind of joke.

“Evan,” he says, that way he always does—that makes him feel just like a child again, acting up and getting reprimanded for it. “Come on. I clocked you from the very beginning, and then you said it was my attention you were after, and hell, I was flattered. Of course I was. But, well. It’s clear that whoever’s attention you were trying to get, your attention is very much elsewhere.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Buck says in a low, grinding voice. “Eddie’s my best friend, of course I’d do anything for him. Just because I’m bi doesn’t mean I’m in love with every male friend I have.”

“I’m telling you this for your own good, Evan,” Tommy says. “The sooner you’re honest with yourself about what you want from him, the better off you’ll both be. Otherwise, it’s just going to be this—you running to his every beck and call and hoping that one day he’ll see all that you’ve done for him, how devoted you are to him, and somehow it will make him want you back. Well, let me tell you right now, Evan. It won’t. It never does.”

Tommy is twisting everything about his relationship with Eddie, turning it ugly. I dragged his bleeding body to safety, he wants to scream. I held his shaking fists in the wreckage of his grief. I watched him pick up the pieces. 

He gave me something to live for. 

“You don’t know a thing about him,” Buck hisses, his fury like a live wire in his chest. “And you don’t know a thing about me, either. I think you should leave.”

Tommy puts up his hands. “Fine. At least I warned you.”

[xxiiam]

ＫＩＳＭＥＴ༄

Rockstarbf! Choso x reader , fakedating, slow burn , eventual smut , plot with porn

Synopsis - your roommate!Nobara comes into your job with free tickets to an up and coming band that is making headlines , who would know that it would lead to such twists and turns such as opportunities of a lifetime to fake date the bassist of the band choso. Where will this take you?

Authors note : hi so I’ll be posting it in parts here too , it is also on my ao3 or even wattpad - username is the same as my tumblr , xxiiam for ao3 and xxiiamm for wattpad , for it to be posted here I’ll be grouping the chapters into 2’s or 3’s so I’m not as posting as much !! I hope you enjoy this as much as you guys enjoyed all mine !! As always my inbox is always open so feel free to send requests, asks or just talk to me !!

Wk : 3.1k

Chapter 1&2

moving to a big city from your small hometown was a big change for you , working in a coffee shop all the mundane things never really seemed to bother you .

Sure your dreams were bigger than your body but you’re only twenty three . You still have time , or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself . Your roommate and long time best friend already had her dream of working for a fashion magazine in the big city , which is why you moved . You are happy for her but this barista gig can’t keep you happy forever . Or afloat , stability wise. But it was a cute five minute walk from your apartment so it was good realistically , co-workers were a breeze for the most part and the customers were so-so.

The mundane things kept you happy or distracted . Your love life was in the dumps , by dumps it was dry like the Sahara. A stand still . But this did not mean you weren’t looking! You are..kinda. At least Nobara was happy trying to indulge in your lackluster love life. Which lead to her barging into your work.

You worked opening shifts most days so it was pretty empty you weren’t too upset about it. Usually it helped you catch up on sleep since you had learned to drift off into a rem state whilst standing up behind the counter. “Y/N Y/N Y/N” you heard the familiar sing song shrill voice coming through the swing door. Your eyes widened and you greeted your friend, “you know you can’t just waltz in here like it’s our apartment nobara. This is my place of work and I’d like to keep it that way” you half joked , half joking because you were also still half asleep . She slammed a poster down onto the counter then swiftly picked it up with her index and thumb dancing with the poster , “look you like , like you know…alt guys LOOK AT THIS BAND! In the magazines they’re like the next up and coming band - headed for stardom or whatever. Not really up and coming they’ve up and came. Like they have a pretty strong following like well over 200k followers on the lead vocalists socials. All the girls in my work are fan girling over them. Have you heard about them? Are you listening to me?”

You rocked forwards then stood upright , “yeah yeah hot guys band upcoming already came, what’s your point?” . She rolled her eyes and held the poster closer to your face , “well guess who won twoooooo freeee tickets for guess..TONIGHT” . You winced , “but it’s gossip girl and cheap steaks from Costco night” you said in a sad tone. You loved Friday nights it was reserved for you both to cook your cheap steaks , crack open a bottle of wine that made you both grimace at and to watch gossip girl. It was fun you loved it , in fact you looked forward to it every week!

Nobara laughed and sighed , “but like maybe there will be other hot guys here you know hot guys usually hang around other hot guys!!” She smiled , “yeah how many guys are you friends with? And how many of them are hot?” You responded with a deadpan expression. She pretended to consider how many friends she had that were male and were straight and how many were hot. “Ugh whatever a diamond in the rough as people say..maybe you’ll even catch the attention of like a security worker so you can like get tickets to more concerts and shit”

Security guys usually are sexy and buff mmmm your opinions were starting to be swayed , “y/n stop socializing and serve the customer” your co-worker said strolling past you and going into the back , “oh come on Joe don’t be a sourpuss you know I’m always here” Nobara said but then looked at the selection of sandwiches and baked goods , “actually can I have that ham and cheese croissant that’s my fave” you nodded and got her order ready. Now you can work the rest of your day planning out your outfit for the outfit , Nobara left the poster with you . They were pretty eye catching. Well they’re up and coming band sensations or whatever. So they’re obviously gonna be good looking but damn they’re hot okay maybe this concert was a good idea after-all. Nobara working with all these magazine companies might actually be a god send.

You finally clocked out and got home to your apartment , you finally had couch time with your adorable cat , sparkles. He is the cutest. Yes he’s a boy called sparkles he was a stray who you found out was a boy after he adjusted to the name sparkles. You scrolled through your timeline to see a performance of that band. Phones really are listening to everything. The post had over one million views so they’re successful and the music was actually pretty decent they weren’t industry plants after all. Nobara came in not too long after you did , “why are you still on your ass? Up up I say! You need to look like sex on legs..not that you don’t already , especially with that coffee stained uniform…go change go go go”

With Nobara’s kind words of affirmation you decided it was time to get ready , so outfit consisted of boots mini skirt and little tiny top , is this a concert or a whore house!!! But it is for the greater good of finally getting laid for the first time since moving to the city. You both said goodbye to sparkles and started your walk to the train station . You should’ve worn a jacket it felt like your nipples could cut through diamonds you were so cold. You and Nobara stood and huddled together shivering under the dim flickering station lights .

Then finally you had got to the venue , Nobara rushed you both so you made it to the front for the best view . The opening act was good nothing of note you were excited to hear this newfound band that you had grown a bit fonder of now that you had listened to one or two songs…watched one or two edits on TikTok. Picked out a couple of favorites out of the five guys. Okay well they’re all a favorite but still some more than others.

Lights began to dim and the sign flashed the name of the band in a bright white. Kismet . You assumed it meant the word kismet as in fate or destiny . What a funny word to pick for a band name. roars of cheers emitted from the crowd even Nobara joined in, she caught your surprised look , “I just love live music I don’t care about these random ass guys- wait is that guitarist a girl holy fuck” . On stage the layout was satoru gojo the lead vocalist in front center; guitarist and secondary vocalist suguru geto; bass player choso kamo who was on the other side of satoru; drummer Sukuna who was back center and lead guitarist shoko ieri who was next to suguru .

Okay you can admit you were really starting to see the appeal.

kismet preformed all the songs you were beginning for favor. A part of you was feeling giddy like a teenage girl seeing her celebrity crush on her instagram feed except this was real life and you were mere feet away from these men and one woman. Your eyes were drawn to the bassist Choso the black eyeliner strip across his nose and cheeks made him facially stand out as well as the drummer sukuna with his face and body tattoos that were tattooed intricately . Most of the band had tattoos but his stood out because they were all symmetrical and thick with no other patchwork or large pieces to be seen on his body.

Sukuna seemed to be the least media trained out of the band when he spoke it was always something crass and vulgar, the best spoken was the lead guitarist shoko who was a woman so no wonder she was the most well spoken amongst these men. You could’ve sworn you and sukuna kept sharing glances but your attention kept going back to choso there was something so magnetizing about him, you just couldn’t put your finger on it but it was something. Might just be his good looks and how talented he was but still it felt deeper.

Okay.

Y/N snap out of it.

You’re sounding very parasocial this is just a band that you just happened to have free tickets to. A one time thing , a new perhaps casual listen after this. You’re sounding very deluded.

And just like that the show was over and people started to bleed out of the venue like an army of ants there was more people than you anticipated you never looked back since your eyes were glued to the stage and the band members. Walking out, Nobara hugged your arm, “wow did you see the girl she was soooooo sexy I wanted to climb on the stage , rip my shirt open like a gorilla , pound my chest and go apeshit” you laughed in response to her claim. “Okay I admit I see the appeal they are a band of very attractive people they seem like a total industry plant though they just came out of nowhere right?”

She shrugged , “apparently they’ve been a band since high school they’re a couple years older than us mid-late twenties I believe. Pretty old for them to blow up now but what would I know I’m a fashion analyzer not a music analyst” . Then that was that. Was it worth the skip of gossip girl and steak night? Maybe not. But it was definitely a night to remember you definitely enjoyed yourself and wouldn’t say no to another concert. You both got home , Nobara went straight to bed whilst you picked up sparkles and went to your room, looking over the videos from the concert. You posted snippets of it onto your Instagram story tagging the band and fell asleep.

The next morning it was another opening shift at the coffee shop, you stood behind the counter shifting in and out of sleep . Mornings were always slow , a few regulars sat at their usual seating areas until someone new came in. A tall figure walked in as you made small chatter to your coworker. The man in a black hoodie with the hood up , black cap low and sun glasses. You chuckled to yourself, “are you about to rob the store? because I promise there’s not much in the cash register for you to take so it’s not worth it.” . Normally it is not in the workplace policy to make comments like this but you couldn’t find a reason to care in this moment. The man scoffed, “think of me so low to think I’d rob from a run down corner coffee shop?” .

You thought the coffee shop was cute it wasn’t ran down at all, “someone’s in a bad mood and if it’s so run down why are you here big guy?” . He took his sunglasses off and revealed his face , “I just want a fucking coffee I have to leave for another city tomorrow night I am a busy guy” . His harsh tone was drowned out because you recognized his face. It was choso from kismet! You almost laughed in his face. “First world problems having to lavishly travel to a new city tomorrow night oh no..anyways before I get in trouble for conversing with customers what’s your order?” .

He bit his tongue , his patience was wearing thin. Never meet your idols before they have a morning coffee right? “A coffee. Black. Thanks” . You nodded , “any sweeteners or sugar or anything?” . His eye began to twitch , “if I wanted a sugar I would’ve included it in my order” . You rolled your eyes , “name for the order?” He licked his lips he was obviously considering using an alias but he caved and just said “choso do you need me to spell that too or are you able to do that by yourself?”

“I’m very competent choso, I’m not gonna lick the ground you walk on because you think you’re some big shot because you’re the bassist in some one hit wonder band and just for reference no one cares for the bassist no matter how attractive you are” you said gripping the counter, who was this guy? Some unknown random trying to talk down to you just because you’re a working woman? And he thinks he’s alll higghhh and mighty just because he’s getting some clout that’s gonna die down this time next year. He stuck his tongue in his cheek , “you talk a lot of smack considering you were there at the concert last night” he squinted his eyes and looked at your name tag , “y/n”

His coffee was ready you set it down on the counter , “your total is $2.70” he put his hand in his pocket and put the money on the counter before his eyes darted to the window and a group of what you assumed paparazzi were starting to pool towards the coffee shop, “can’t get a fuckin break” he cursed under his breath and pulled cap down lower and walked out, “hey! Your coffee!!” He just kept walking toward the door. Are you seriously gonna have to chase this fuckin guy?

You grabbed the coffee and chased after him , he quickly halted and turned around to face you which made you spill the coffee not only on you but him too. You grit your teeth in pain , “ah fuck…you spilled the fuckin coffee you made me chase after you for nothing” you scowled at him , he took a deep breath before taking his hood down and wiping at the coffee on your uniform. He gave you a fake smile , “there are you happy y/n? Is that what you wanted me to do? You wanted me to wipe you down? What next you want me to kiss tour ass instead of saying thank you for a coffee that’s spilled over both of us you could’ve just kept the money and went about your day as apparently there’s not much in that shitty register in the first place” . You scoffed at him , “it is in store policy to chase down customers who forget to pay or to get their coffee! Blame the coffee shop not me. Why are you even in a rush you said you had until tomorrow night, if you haven’t noticed choso it’s 7:46 am” .

he pointed at the men with cameras, “those! I can’t get a fuckin break I thought the fame would allow me to get a coffee in the middle of nowhere no issue but apparently not, you know what..go down the backstreet it’ll bring you back around to the coffee shop’s street. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, I am I swear” . Huh an apology finally, bare minimum . How did he know the streets so well? Too many questions to ask. “Maybe come again for a cofee and be able to drink it another time? In a better disguise I hope” . He almost cracked a real smile for once before stopping himself , “maybe.” His face went back to its annoyed expression , “go now they see we’ve been loitering too long they’ll come for questions” , you shook your head . “Do you not want your money back” . He actually laughed , “it’s $2.70” .

You rolled your eyes once more and started to walk off down the backstreet , he yelled out , “if you roll your eyes anymore they’ll get stuck up there” you just flipped him off in response before making your way back up to the street.

When you got back you just went onto your break as soon as you could , your phone began to buzz it was Nobara , “GIRL I know nda’s are a big deal but you didn’t have to act like you didn’t know Kismet!” She said practically yelling down the phone, what the hell was she talking about? You shook your head , “Nobara I know just little about kismet as you, what’re you even talking about?” . She began to stutter , “girl look online everywhere people are saying you’re choso , the bassist from kismet, you’re his girlfriend since he visited you at work!!! Is it true are you guys together??” You just scoffed in response , “Nobara I am not dating anyone from kismet. Never mind choso , he’s a real piece of work , he was rude and plus he got the coffee spilled on not just him but me too!! Ugh but he is very attractive up close in the natural light if you’re wondering that “

“But he was like smiling and stuff and you guys looked like you were having a good conversation in the videos I saw” she insisted , “yeah well it’s all fabricated by the press” . you heard the door open to the back of the coffee shop , your coworker stood at the door , “hey y/n this guy is in here asking for you , looks important” . You sighed before standing up , “Nobara I gotta go I’ll see you later tonight mkay”

You walked back in to the coffee shop after hanging up the phone to Nobara , a tall blonde man. His face chiseled and eyes tired , “hi y/n? Do you have a couple minutes to chat?” You stood around and looked at your coworker , “it’s okay it’s a couple minutes I can do this for a couple minutes” you smiled and nodded . You walked around to the front to stand with the man , he led you to a table in the back and sat down , “do you not want to order anything whilst you’re here?” You asked before joining him sitting down , he shook his head , “don’t overwork yourself , you see where it’ll get you” he half smiled , you just stayed silence in response , he bowed his head , “sorry it was a joke , nevertheless why I’m here . My name is Kento Nanami , I am the band manager for Kismet . It’s a band I’m not sure if you’re familiar but you had a run in with one of the members , choso. Uhh..I’m not sure how to put this I’ve never had to do this before. I would like you to consider , for the image of the band for the bands benefit- your benefit too don’t get me wrong. I’d like you to go home tonight call me back up and consider perhaps making an arrangement with”

“Are you asking me to fake date choso?”