#how long can you be away from somewhere and still be from there?

[shewhowillrise]

“Are you sure I shouldn’t be armored?” Bruce asked as he watch Zatanna set up his bedroom for the Death Walk. Dream like state to walk between worlds into the infinite.

“War chose Bruce, not Batman,” she stated, dropping a pillow on the floor at the foot of the bed. And another one on the bed, “now lay down.”

Bruce hesitated.

“Watch,” Bruce looked up where Cass had spoken from her perch on his dresser, “safe.”

“I’ll be standing guard too,” Damian said behind him at the door. Damian’s been…off since contacting his mother. It seems the pits have all been dried up.

With the knowledge he and Zatanna would be protected, he laid down. He felt Zatanna’s breath in his hair.

“Relax and clear your mind,” she said, moving each hand about an inch away from each of his ears.

A deep breath and he closed his eyes. More he unclenched his body, the more the world fell away.

His hand twitched but instead of the assumed soft comforter beneath him, he felt dry leaves. He opened his eyes to a grey sky. Sitting up, he took in the environment around him. Everything seemed grey, the trees to his right, and the building to his left. The building looked like the roof had exploded, and thick grey clouds billowed from within. But it was the chain link fence that surrounded it that got his attention. A dark yellow sign in Ukrainian.

Radiation Zone. Do not enter.

A memory from a long time ago of old broadcasts came to the forefront of his mind.

“Chernobyl?” He asked to no one. A truck’s honk behind him answered.

Turning, he saw a pale blue truck, at almost looked bubbly, with a tall metal truck bed. The passenger door swung open. A girl sat inside at the wheel.

“Hey traveler,” she patted the bench cushion beside her, “let’s get ya somewhere less…toxic,” she giggled to herself like she made some inside joke.

Bruce took one more look around and decided that probably this was the best he was gonna get. Hopping up, he noticed a few things at first glance. A novel sat on the bench next to her, a gas mask sat at the floor, and she had a burn scar on the left side of her face, that went into the hairline and stopped right before her chin.

“Not many chosens visit before first death,” she held out her hand, “Natalia,” she introduced herself.

He clasped her hand, “Bruce.”

“I’m guessing your here for your chosen horseman. Unfortunately I can’t take you all the way, but I can at least get you to the next one.”

“Thanks,” Bruce said, buckling, “may I ask which one you are? I don’t see how,” he gestured to the world around them, “plus horsemen have been around long before this particular event.”

She smirked at him as she put the truck into gear and started down the road away from the plant.

“Ah, yes, well, horsemen are chosen in accordance with the times of the alive world. As trends and technology and reasons for death and destruction change, we change as well. We were all once human. And our deaths signified a change in the world.”

Bruce hummed. It made sense. Life changed, death changed, so the afterlife would change too.

“I am the one people call pestilence.”

“Pestilence? What does that have to do with…”

“Ah yes, see, pestilence doesn’t have to be an illness of the body. It’s whatever can be considered a disease. Pollution, insects, animals, humans. If it can infect, it is a disease, and if it’s a disease, then it is me.”

“So it was the pollution of Chernobyl that created you?”

“Partially,” she states, “but it was also the corruption of higher ups, the infestation of incompetence, and the disease of greed. My death was the result of different infections that culminated together. Chernobyl was a turning point for the USSR. Thus, I became Pestilence.”

“What about the other three?”

“Oh, that is not my story too tell. While we four that are the only one’s comfortable talking about our death’s, it is still inconsiderate to talk about others.”

Bruce hummed and relaxed into the seat.

“Unless you have other questions, it’s a long drive, so if you wanna read,” she handed him the book she had sitting next to her.

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

Bruce smiled slightly. He remembered when the book first came out how much Jason complained about it. Opening it up there was an inscription on the first page.

Because you’ll only read things with zombies.

—J

He was halfway through chapter three when the truck stopped.

“This is as far as I take you,” Natalia said. Bruce looked up. It was surreal. The grey forest abruptly ended to a beach, that was surrounded by building rumble. He could see far off into the distance a small tent.

“Where is this?”

“West Bank,” she says, a sad note in her voice.

Bruce thought about what she said earlier, how the name of the horseman doesn’t have to be literal.

“Famine,” he stated as he got out the truck.

The walk to the tent was long. It felt as if it kept moving away with every step he took. After was felt like an eternity, with his mouth dry and knees weak, did he finally reach it.

Almost as if sensing him, someone opened the flap and walked out. A little girl came out, scars littering her body.

“Hi,” she said, “I’m Dalia. And you?”

“Bruce,” he says, kneeling down to eye level. It hurts knowing what she has been through. He wants so badly to take her in his arms and care for her. But he can’t, and it makes him angry that now her parents can’t love her and cherish her either.

“I am sorry, I do not have food to share, but maybe I can still help you?”

“I’m looking for the next horseman’s…haunt,” he states unsurely. That is what Zatanna called it, “Natalia dropped me off here.”

Dalia hummed, and grabbed his hand, “I can lead you.”

Bruce stood up and let the little girl guid him, thank you.”

“You are a chosen aren’t you?” She asked.

“I think so,” he answered, “yet I do not know what that means.”

“The others say it’s the one that keeps up to the alive realm. Like a tether. Something to keep us human. Other beings like us get angry, emotional, forget their lives. We must remember, so we do not raze the earth,” she looked around, “but it seems it is not us that should be reminded of that.”

Bruce squeezed her hand, hoping to give even a tiny comfort to the little girl.

A cloud of fog practically materializes in front of them.

“This is it,” Dalia says, “through that fog is War.” She let go of his hand. He turned to say goodbye, but she was gone. His heart broken a little more.

Turning back to the fog, he took a deep breath and walked in.

When it cleared, his breath left his lungs. He was standing in the alleyway. The alleyway near the movie theater. The alleyway that he only ever came to once a year. The alleyway that created Batman.

DC x DP Prompt

The Horseman War was angered. Someone took his Death. He could not find him in the realm beyond, could not feel their bond thrum in his core. Every island, every small community, big fortress, and lone travelers were searched, interrogated, no grave left unchecked.

There was only one place left, one place War swore to never return to, but to find his Death, he must.

It was terrifying waking up in the box, feeling the rush of air in his lungs again after what felt like a lifetime. The wetness of his blood on his fingertips gave an unsettling feeling of nostalgia for days among rooftops.

Jason Todd climbed out of his grave, angry, and nothing would stop him from finding Danny Fenton.

[rafes-slut]

rafe who loves eating his girlfriends pussy? like no matter what they’re doing/where they are he wants it!! they could be in public and he’d drag her somewhere private just to get a taste

Addicted to You

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW (18+), public sex, oral sex (fem receiving), slight exhibitionism, possessive behavior, light roughness, praise, dirty talk, fingering, obsession/possessive dynamics, unprotected sex, established relationship, Rafe being obsessed with reader’s body, heavy smut with minimal plot

Rafe had a problem.

Or, more specifically, he had an obsession—and it was you.

It didn’t matter where you were, what you were doing, or who was around. If he got a taste of you, even a glimpse of that soft, sinful heat between your thighs, he was done for. Nothing could pull his attention away—not a crowded party, not a fancy dinner, not even a casual stroll down the beach with friends. If he wanted you, he’d get you, no questions asked.

Especially when it came to eating you out.

And fuck, did he love it.

You’d barely stepped into the house before Rafe’s hand slid around your waist, pulling you into his chest. His mouth found your neck, pressing rough kisses against the skin, sucking just hard enough to make your breath hitch.

“Missed you all fuckin’ day,” he muttered, fingers slipping down to grip your ass, possessive and greedy. “Couldn’t focus—kept thinkin’ about how you taste.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling as you tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. “Rafe, we’re supposed to meet everyone in twenty minutes.”

“So?” He growled, hand already tugging at the hem of your skirt. “They can wait. You know I’ll be quick.”

You gasped when he spun you around, pushing you up against the wall. His knee slotted between your legs, spreading them just enough for his hand to sneak under your skirt, fingers stroking over the thin fabric of your panties.

“These fuckin’ panties,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “You want me to lose my mind, don’t you?”

Your breath hitched, heart racing as he dropped to his knees in front of you. “Rafe—baby—we don’t have time.”

“You think I care?” He smirked, fingers already tugging your panties down, watching them fall to your ankles. “I’ve been hard all damn day thinking about this pussy. You’re gonna let me have it, right here, right now.”

You barely had time to reply before his mouth was on you, tongue flat against your clit as he groaned like he was starving. His grip on your thighs was bruising, nails digging in as he kept you still, locked in place against the wall.

You moaned, fingers threading into his hair, tugging when his tongue circled your clit, slow and deliberate. His eyes flicked up, dark and wild, watching your face as he devoured you.

“Fuck—Rafe, don’t stop,” you gasped, legs trembling.

“Oh, I won’t,” he rasped against your core. “Not until I make this pussy cum all over my fuckin’ face.”

This wasn’t new. You should’ve known better than to wear a skirt around him in public, especially at an outdoor party where there were too many quiet corners for him to drag you into.

He didn’t even try to be subtle when he yanked you away from the crowd, hand in yours, walking too fast, eyes already dark with need.

“Rafe,” you hissed, breathless, “we can’t—we’re outside.”

“No one’s fuckin’ out here,” he said, already backing you into a shadowed alley behind the house, slamming you up against the wall. “And I need a taste, baby. Just a taste.”

Your protest died on your tongue when he dropped again, hands already up your skirt. His tongue licked a long, slow stripe up your slit, groaning like he was in heaven.

“Taste so good, fuck,” he moaned, eyes fluttering shut. “I’d live between your thighs if you let me.”

You whimpered, hips rocking against his face, desperate, needy.

“You always get like this,” you panted. “Can’t go anywhere without wanting to—”

“To eat you out?” He growled, sucking your clit hard enough to make you cry out. “Damn right. Pussy this perfect? I’ll never stop wantin’ it.”

You came hard, legs shaking as he licked you through it, humming against your core like he couldn’t get enough.

[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

[arkhambug]

JASON TODD yearns for you.

like actually, truly yearns.

it’s not lust, or having, or craving your skin or body — it’s needing. needing for your hand in his, your arms around his shoulders, his face in the crook of your neck. needing, so intense that the first time he can put a word to it he feels like a fucking character in a romance novel.

because who the hell yearns if they aren’t? and when the hell did he start to consider himself romantic enough to fucking yearn for you like a forlorn widow?

he doesn’t know. but he does.

fuck, he does.

jason yearns for the way you laugh, head tipped forward as you wheeze at the stupidest shit. he yearns for that look you give him when he says something out of pocket, upper lip curled in disgust and brows knitted together. it’s like he can see the words ‘he’s trying to give me an aneurism’ tattooed on your forehead.

he yearns for the way you sleep, clothes and covers a mess because you never stay still, and drool pooling in the corner of your lips. he yearns to swipe it away, to press the pad of his thumb to your chin and wipe at your skin so gently, and kiss you awake like a princess. he won’t wake you though. not with his silly romanticisms.

he yearns for the way you look in your ( his ) oversized shirts and your ratty pajamas you’ve had for way too long, the way your bonnet hides your hair and gives him the best view of your sleep flushed cheeks, the way you pick the crust from your eyes and blink up at him while you wobble into the kitchen before the sun is up.

he yearns for you on missions, and long patrols. yearns to just have you again. to be in your arms instead, to have his head on your tummy and his arms hooked around your back, pulling you so close as he breathes you in and settles his body between your thighs, because it’s his favorite way to fall asleep.

he yearns for your presence, for the damn sight of you. he yearns for your voice, and ‘yapping’, when he gets to hear every thought in that pretty head. he loves it. he yearns for your hand on his arm, for your thigh pressed against his while you sit, he yearns like a man starved.

and he is, starved of you, no matter how much he gets.

he would crawl into your ribs if he could, wedge himself into the most vulnerable part of you — deep in the cavities of your heart, behind your sternum and between your lungs, where he could feel that steady thrum of your pulse always, and know you’re alive, well, safe, his.

jason yearns for you. just yearns. he wants for you like it’s his religion, he needs for you like it’s devotional.

and you see it. you feel, in the way he keeps you close.

in the way he lets you touch him, baring the parts of himself that he can barely stand for you to caress and keen over because you like them so. he lets your fingernails scrape along his scalp, lets you press tender, gentle kisses to scars you know better than to ask about. he seeks it out.

in the way he takes care of you, always making sure you’ve eaten, offering to bring or make you food when you haven’t, always offering to do something for you, even if it’s just to keep you company while you start the laundry.

in the way he holds you, so tight, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. he presses every inch of himself to you that he can, like he wants to fuse the two of you together. you’d let him, if you could.

you feel it in the kisses he gives you, always somewhere you don’t expect — your eyelids, and the back of your neck, the shell of your ear when you’re trying to sleep, and the place between your shoulder blades — and his favorite, the palm of your hand, just like everytime you cradle his face.

it’s like he can’t bear you touching him so sweetly, without him touching you.

he always pulls your hand to his lips, eyes clamping shut like he’s trying to absorb you, fingers twisted with his as his lips press to your skin. every time.

and it’s like every kiss says something.

the apple of your cheek, ‘my heart’. the column of your throat, ‘my blood’. your shoulder, ‘my love’. the valley of your chest, ‘my breath’. the length of your arm, ‘my mercy’. the pulse point on your wrist, ‘my heaven’.

his favorite, your ring finger, the one he knows he’ll adorn one day, when you’re ready. ‘my life’.

jason peter todd yearns for you. his salvation, his saving, his grace, his life. for you.

A/N i am perpetuating the jason ‘yearning’ todd agenda one day at a time bitch. that man is NOT NONCHALANT in the goddamned slightest. he is the most loud and chalant man to ever exist and he loves HARD. like it’s his purpose bro

type of guy to loveeeee when you ask him dumbass shit like ‘would you put me in ur pocket’ because he can be like ‘yes!!!! yes i would!!!! take you everywhere with me!!!’

[fixated-cookies]

im kinda thinkin about.... hypnosis and smilk.... smth abt the process specifically of taking over and invading your mind.. slowly giving into it even if youre resisting the effects its having on your mind, its inevitable that he'll win and you'll succumb to his control and influence over you... your mind may be foggy, but it's so perfectly empty and moldable now... what were you doing again? do you even care?

smth about being unable to look away from his eyes once he starts it; even if you look away, something will draw you back, and it gets stronger as it goes on... at first, you can physically turn away (though you'll get dragged back by some invisible force), but eventually you cant even rip your heard away from his gaze. smth about it being unable to be stopped by anyone other than himself once he starts it... no matter how far from you he is (as long as he's well... in sightline)

honestly you can like. think abt this in any context you want . i just.... really like the concept of hypnosis with him..... its captivating to me (hah) .... sorry for the essay in your inbox damn

Anon the reason why this was rotting in my askbox for so long was because I needed to give it justice hahaha, hypnosis is totally in character for someone like shadow milk cookie, and I love it.

WARNING- slight yandere, hypnosis

Hmm, I'm wondering how it would start, he would obviously make it a game, maybe a game of truth or dare, hm? Just a little bit of lollygagging to get rid of his boredom.

So, when he asked— “Truth or Dare?”—

You made the horrible mistake of choosing dare.

His grin widened, all teeth.“Ohhh, you’re feeling bold tonight! How delightful! Now, let’s see…” He tapped a finger against his chin, pretending to think. You should have been nervous. You should have backed out. But you didn’t.

I dare you… to look into my eyes and not look away.”

Simple, right?

You almost laughed. Thats its? Thats all?

"Ah-ah, don’t look so relieved~! There’s a catch, of course. You must hold my gaze until I say you can look away. Break eye contact, and you lose."

You scoffed. What was he playing at? You weren’t afraid of a staring contest. Getting into position you held yourself steady as he looked overly excited.

For a while, it felt like a normal challenge. You stared, he stared, and time stretched between you both. But then… something changed. The air felt thicker. Your body heavier. You blinked once. It felt like it took longer than it should have to open your eyes again. You swallowed. Something felt off.

Your limbs felt distant like you weren’t quite inside your body anymore. You tried to look away—But your head wouldn’t move. "I...I-" "Tsk, tsk… You’re not trying to look away, are you? Ohh, but I can see that dazed look in your eyes already… how precious!" He started to scoot closer. Not fast. Not abrupt. No, he took his time, savoring the way your body twitched ever so slightly. How your breath caught, your fingers tightening into trembling fists against the floor. Your head refused to move. Your body felt so distant, like a marionette with cut strings, a doll that could only watch as its puppeteer inched nearer.

Your vision wavered, the edges blurring as if reality itself was losing focus. His eyes were all you could see. How could this happen? you were so sure he didn't have...any malicious...intent—huh...? What was going on...?—No, you hadn’t! You had to resist, you had to—"Mmm, that’s a good look on you… so unfocused, so lost…" He suddenly interrupted your thoughts.

You blinked, but the action felt slow, heavy, like your body was moving through water. You knew—somewhere, deep down—that this was wrong. That you should snap out of it. But… that was so difficult. Thinking was… so hard. Your lips parted, but no words came out. Only a quiet, dazed sigh.

Shadow Milk Cookie smiled, only for it to falter as your eyesight ripped away from him violently, a frustrated groan escaping you as you squeezed your eyes shut out of defiance. "Oh? You still have some fight left in you?" His voice slithered through the air, a mocking lilt woven into his amusement. How predictable. How pathetic. Impossibly close now, his presence, looming, suffocating—but when his hands cupped your cheeks, you knew there was no escape. His palms were cool, but his grip was unyielding.

"Really now, I thought you were smarter than this." His thumbs trailed lower, brushing over your lips with featherlight strokes. "Oh, my dear, sweet fool…" His voice dipped into a breathy murmur, mismatched eyes drinking in every flicker of your resolve. "...I wonder... how long will that last?"

His grip on your cheeks tightened—just enough for his thumbs to press against your skin, coaxing you, urging you—until your lashes fluttered. A sliver of light slipped through.

And the moment your gaze met his—

The air in your lungs vanished. And oh, how he grinned.

"Mmm… there it is."

His voice was nothing but a purr, smooth and saccharine as he drank in your struggle. His grip softened, shifting to cradle your face so delicately—as if he hadn’t just crushed your resistance in the palm of his hand.

"Much easier when you don’t fight, isn’t it?"

His thumbs stroked your cheeks, his tone mocking, indulgent—but there was something darker beneath it. "Go on, little puppet…" His breath ghosted over your lips as his mismatched eyes pulled you deeper, deeper, deeper. "Be good for me, yeah?" He murmurs lowly Before you could even process it, his lips were on yours—slow, deliberate, consuming. A kiss meant to unravel, to claim. His fingers pressed gently into your skin, holding you there, grounding you— or perhaps, chaining you.

And when he finally pulled away, he didn’t need to command you to look at him this time.

Because you already were.

A single finger tapped lightly against your forehead as if to mock the emptiness settling in. His victory.

"See? Much better when you don’t think."

--

you guys, rate my hypnosis writing I need it!! These ideas are just sooo juicy.

[urmum-lovesme]

Can you right more of toxic!rafe x toxic!reader please. The first one was so good

more Toxic!Rafe Cameron and Toxic!Reader. . . say less

Rafe's Rover was parked somewhere off the far side of the Cut, deep between the trees far enough from prying eyes but still close enough that the sound of nearby waves carries through the cracked windows. The scent of weed lingers thick in the air, mixing with the familiar scent of the cars air-freshener. Smoke floats around them, illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard lights. Y/N leans her head back against the seat, letting out a slow, drawn-out exhale, a white cloud curling above her. 

“You’re a bad influence.”

“You’re acting like you didn’t ask for this.”

Rafe, reclined in the driver’s seat, lazily flicks ash down into the Diet Coke can she'd brought in with her, now long empty.  Y/N tilts her head toward him, her eyes half-lidded. 

“I didn’t ask to get this high. . . can't feel m'legs”

“That’s the point.”

Rafe chuckles, passing the joint back to her. She takes it between her fingers, bringing it to her lips and inhaling slowly. The burn is familiar, comforting even, but everything feels heavier, slower. The song playing through the car speakers- some crappy frat boy music Rafe switched on- feels like it’s vibrating in her bones. He watches her, his gaze lingering too long. She exhales the smoke in his direction, eyes meeting his through the haze. 

“What?”

“You look good like that.”

Rafe shrugs, amusement flickering in his darkened gaze. Y/N scoffs, but the lazy grin tugging at her lips betrays her. 

“You’re so fucking predictable.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that mean?”

Rafe shifts in his seat, tilting his head slightly. Y/N hums, tapping her fingers against her bare thigh, her sock-clad feet resting on the dash of the car. He'd always scold her when she did that, calling her spoilt, sometimes his hand coming out to drag her feet to the floor; but she never listened to him because who was he to tell her what to do?

“Means I know exactly how this is gonna go. You’re gonna get cocky, say some stupid shit n' piss me off”

“Nah. You’re wrong.”

Rafe takes the joint from her resting it between his fingers before speaking, his voice lower now. She raises an eyebrow at his disagreement. 

“Oh? Enlighten me then.”

Rafe exhales, smoke trailing between them like a ghost as he places the joint down onto the can in the cup holder and leans over slightly, his forearm resting on the armrest between them. 

“We’re gonna sit here, finish this, and then…” He glances over at her lips briefly before looking back up to her eyes. 

“You’re gonna get all clingy n'whiny and start touching me.”

“Fuck you Cameron.”

Y/N lets out a laugh, shoving his arm and Rafe grins, but he catches her wrist, holding it between his fingers as he turns to face her fully. Y/N doesn’t pull away, just tilts her head, challenging.

“I’m right though.”

“You think you know me so well.”

“I do.”

He responded as his grip tightened just slightly. The air shifts, tension thick between them. The weed only amplifies it- the way time seems to stretch, the way the world outside the car feels insignificant compared to whatever this is between them. His other hand lifts the joint to his lips, taking a slow drag. It’s burning close to the end now, the paper crackling slightly as the embers glow red. Y/N watches him, eyes heavy-lidded, her lips parting slightly. 

“You gonna finish that by yourself?”

Rafe exhales slowly through his nose, shaking his head to himself with a quiet chuckle. Of course she’d say that. She always does this-pushes just enough to get under his skin.

Spoilt princess

Without a word, he takes another hit, deeper this time, letting the smoke sit in his lungs. Then, before she can say anything else, his free hand finds her jaw, fingers pressing into her skin as he pulls her closer. His lips brush against hers- barely, just enough for her to feel how warm he is, how intoxicatingly close. Y/N doesn’t move away, doesn’t even think to. Instead, she parts her lips just slightly, and that’s all Rafe needs. He exhales slow, deliberate, pushing the smoke into her mouth, their breaths tangling, heavy and heady. Her lashes flutter, her fingers wrapping around his wrist as she inhales, taking it in, her body buzzing with the mix of weed and him. Rafe doesn’t pull back right away. His lips hover near hers, close enough that she can feel the smirk tugging at his mouth. 

“Happy now, brat?” 

His voice is low, teasing, dripping with something heavier. Y/N exhales softly, the last remnants of the smoke slipping past her lips. Her head feels light, her body warm, and his words send a shiver down her spine. But she doesn’t let it show. Not yet. Instead, she tilts her head, looking at him

“Almost.”

Rafe raises a brow, his thumb still resting against her jaw, pressing just slightly. His thumb glides across her skin before it tugs against her lower lip, tugging it down teasing her like he always does.

Like he knows he can.

Y/N’s breath hitches for a fraction of a second, but she covers it well, her gaze flicking up to meet his through her lashes. Slow, deliberate. She leans in, close enough for her lips to ghost over his, for their breaths to mix in the muggy air of the car. But she doesn’t kiss him. She just breathes in like she’s savouring him, stretching the tension between them just enough to make it unbearable.

Her hand drags down his arm slow and lazy, her nails skimming his skin before trailing lower- over his ribs, the plane of his abs, until her fingers graze his belt buckle.

And that’s where they stop.

Resting there.

Waiting.

Rafe watches her, his smirk growing sharper, his grip on her jaw never faltering. He exhales through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s holding back an amused grin.

"Told you I was right."

[xuchiya]

love gravity || kang yeosang || one-shot

| genre: fluff. slice of life. | mentions: not paying attention to crosswalks (don't do that). yeosang being ... yeosang 😍

The city hums with the usual evening rush—cars honking, pedestrians weaving through the crowd, and the cool night breeze carrying the scent of roasted chestnuts from a nearby stall. You tug at the lanyard of your school ID, slipping it off and placing it on the back pocket of your jeans, letting it hang behind you like a tail, a habit you've had for as long as you can remember.

You barely register the change in the crosswalk signal when the world tilts beneath you.

One moment, you’re stepping forward, and the next—

A firm grip tugs at your ID lace, pulling you back just in time before a speeding cyclist whizzes past where you were about to step. The abrupt force sends you stumbling, your feet struggling to find balance against the concrete. But before gravity can claim its victory, an arm circles around your waist, steadying you.

The scent of warm chocolate and cedarwood fills your senses, grounding you as much as the hands that keep you upright. You blink up, wide-eyed, heart hammering in your chest as you meet the gaze of Kang Yeosang.

“Careful,” he murmurs, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips.

Your breath catches. He’s close—so close that you can make out the flecks of gold in his brown eyes and the red spot of his birthmark, the gentle curve of his nose, and the way his lashes cast soft shadows against his cheeks under the glow of the streetlights.

“I—” Your words fumble as you will your brain to catch up with reality. Your ID lace dangles loosely between his fingers, the very thing that tethered you back to safety. You gulp, heat creeping up your neck. “Sorry, I didn’t see—”

Yeosang tilts his head slightly, still not letting go. “You should be more careful. You do this often?”

You nod, a sheepish laugh escaping your lips. “Yeah. Bad habit.”

A soft chuckle rumbles from his chest. “I’ll have to keep an eye on you then.”

Your brain short-circuits.

Before you can recover, he finally releases your ID lace, though the warmth of his touch lingers like an imprint on your skin. With one last glance, he steps away, seamlessly blending back into the flow of people crossing the street.

You exhale sharply, pressing a hand against your chest as if that could slow your racing heartbeat.

You were in trouble.

And the worst part? You didn’t mind one bit.

this happen to me back at the university, my friends and i were about to eat somewhere and i wasn't looking at the light stop and i went ahead and walk. and surprise suprise, my friends all LIKE literally their hands were either on my head, on my pony tail, my shirt and I knew for sure that my other friend grip my arm.

note: i have zero female classmates and yes, all of them are males and that's how they take gentleman to the next level.

[t0riiiis]

"just wanna show my girl how proud i am'"

waterpoloplayer!reader & lacrosseplayer!chris

Thinking about...

chris congratulating you after a long game of you being stuck with a bitchy and overly aggressive girl, game going into overtime, getting kicked and scratched,and even with the all this,by the smallest amount of luck, your team won.

after giving the team high-fives you ripped your cap off, walking or better yet, dragging yourself over to Chris, he met you half way, hugging you and holding you tight. "I'm so fuckin' proud of you, you killed it out there," he kissed your forehead no care about how drenched your hair was or the lingering smell of chlorine in you hair and body. You hummed trying to pull away, feeling bad about wetting his clothes with your wet suit and body, "chris 'm getting your clothes wet" you sighed into his chest standing limp, the kicks, stratches, tugs, and exhaustion finally catching up to you after your adrenaline ware down. "don't care, just wanna show my girl how proud I am," you didn't try to fight it anymore just stood limp taking a moment to relax.

you stood for a while, fully putting all your weight onto chris, "jesus christ baby, how many punches did you take today?" he could see the scratch marks bright red, and the nail marks all across your arms and shoulders, "i dunno, number 21 was a dirty playing bitch the whole time," you sighed feeling the ache in your side from where you'd been kicked, "I don't know how you do this, swear if it's not you being kicked you're being drowned" "hm, it's fun though, I always end up getting them back anyway" he chuckled softly rubbing your back, "you don't get them back, you take them down with you."

"as much as I'm enjoying this, I smell gross, I need to change, and I'm getting your clothes wet" you laughed softly pulling away from him to go get dressed just for him to pull you back to him and give you a soft kiss to your lips, you giggled pulling away after a bit "Okay seriously lemme go change and then we can go somewhere once we're back at school" "Okay, hurry up though, still gotta give you more kisses to show how proud i am of my girl" you smiled and gave him one more quick kiss before quickly running off to go change. yeah this game was exhausting and might've been exhausting but Chris showing up for you made it all worth it.

torispeaks🌾- my 2nd public apology also,#21 when I catch you....

tags- @secretlocket @wildfluer @sturns-mermaid @freshloveee @zebonos @ch6rm / @st6ined @chrisissobabygirl @immaqulate @strnilolover @submattsgf @joces-wrld @throatgoat4u @jensturnss @sweetshuga

[glossypolaroidkisses]

It starts over something so ridiculous you’ll probably forget about it in an hour, but right now? Right now, it’s the most important debate of your life.

And Luigi? Oh, he’s in deep.

“You’re telling me—” He gestures wildly toward the counter, brows furrowed, hazel eyes locked onto yours like you’ve just confessed some deep personal betrayal. “—that you actually think putting the forks handle-side up in the utensil holder is correct?”

You cross your arms, lifting your chin. “It is correct.”

He blinks, stunned. Like you just told him the sun rises in the west. “No. No, it’s not.”

“Yes, yes it is,” you insist, biting back a grin. “It makes them easier to grab.”

“No, it makes them dangerous.” He’s shaking his head, muttering under his breath like he cannot believe this is his life right now. His hands move in frantic, impassioned gestures, those long fingers flexing like the words alone aren’t enough to express his frustration. “You’d rather grab the sharp end of a knife—”

“I don’t put knives in there.”

“—or the pronged end of a fork—”

“Luigi, they’re forks.”

He exhales sharply, pressing his hands to his temples like you’re actually giving him a migraine. “They can be weapons. Do you know how easily I could stab myself like that?”

You roll your eyes. “I think you’ll survive.”

That does it. His brows shoot up, “Oh, don’t fucking roll your eyes at me.” His voice drops, low and sharp, as he steps in closer. Close enough that his warmth prickles over your skin. Close enough that you can see the way his chest rises and falls, how his jaw clenches, how his eyes flicker to your mouth for half a second before snapping back to yours. “I’m being serious,” he says. And he is. His gaze doesn’t waver, his shoulders squared, his whole damn body locked in like this is a battle of principle now—not just cutlery placement.

And maybe that should annoy you, maybe you should roll your eyes again just to see him seethe, God, why is this so hot?

Why is it so devastatingly attractive when he gets worked up, when his voice sharpens, when his large hands move like he has to use his whole body to argue? He’s so expressive, every word laced with conviction, every motion full of intent. He speaks with his whole chest, and it does things to you.

Your breath catches, heat creeping into your cheeks, low in your stomach, winding tight between your legs. This argument is so unnecessary. And yet, you can feel your pulse in your throat.

You press your lips together, trying—failing—to contain your giggles, but the heat behind them betrays you.

Luigi catches it immediately. His hands drop to his hips. “Are you—are you laughing right now?”

You shake your head, but your smile gives you away.

His eyes narrow. His mouth parts like he’s going to say something, but then he just stares, head tilting slightly, like he’s studying you. He exhales, slow and sharp, dragging a hand down his face. “Unbelievable.”

“I just think it’s cute how much this matters to you.” you tease.

His expression goes flat. “Oh my God.”

“You’re all hot and bothered over forks.” You grin, purposely pushing his buttons.

His eyes close. He tilts his head back, pressing his hands against his face like he needs divine intervention.

And that just makes you giggle harder.

Luigi looks at you then lets out a short, dry laugh—one of those disbelieving ones—and suddenly he’s moving.“Yeah?” he murmurs, voice lower now, rougher. His hands find your waist, his grip firm, fingers pressing in just enough to make your breath hitch. “You think it’s cute?”

You nod, beaming up at him. “Adorable.”

He huffs out a laugh through his nose, eyes darkening, lips parting like he’s about to say something else—but instead, he just leans in and kisses you.

It’s firm, deep, a little frustrated—like he’s still got too much energy left from arguing and is desperate for somewhere to put it. His hands tighten at your waist before sliding up your back, keeping you right there, right against him. The heat of him is dizzying, the way his fingers press just enough to remind you how strong he is. You sigh into his mouth, thighs pressing together, and— He notices.

His smirk deepens against your lips, his grip tightening like he wants to feel every little reaction he pulls from you. His body is all firm muscle against yours, warm and solid and so in control even when he’s flustered.

When he finally pulls back, his breathing is uneven, his gaze heavy-lidded as he drags his eyes over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, the way you’re still gripping his shirt like you might pull him back in.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “You are so lucky I love you.”

You hum, running your hands up his chest. “I know, baby.”

His eyes flicker, playful, sharp. “But,” he adds, smirking now, “I will be rearranging the forks later.”

You grin. “We’ll see.”

His brows lift. "Oh, sweetheart." His voice dips lower, lips grazing the curve of your jaw as his fingers squeeze at your waist. "We will."

a/n: kinda rushed, hope you enjoyed it;) thank you babes @littlestl4mb & @amoungusbartholo for the encouragement to write this imagine!! mwah<3🤭

tag list 🏷️ my loves ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ @cherrysolo @slavicdolls4mangione @iinfinitelimits @poohkie90 @luweegeeswifey @number1yearner @noname123sposts @straw8berry @lavenderbabyyy @littlestl4mb @amoungusbartholo (lmk if u wanna be added or removed xx)

i need to get into an argument with lu so damn bad 😭 i just know that man goes all in. he doesn’t know how to let things go, doesn’t know how to give up the fight. keeps arguing with you even when you’re over it. AND he fucking stares you down the whole time. his eyes would actually never leave yours. he’s nodding his head at himself the whole time as he talks bc hes soooo certain he’s right. his massive fucking hands are moving in tandem with his words <3 you roll your eyes and get dismissive and he just raises his brows and goes “don’t fucking roll your eyes at me, you brat. i’m being serious.” lol but then you just bat your lashes at him and give him a little sweet and demure pout and he gets sooo soft on you

[lsunstreakerl]

on a scrapbook max run atm... 2.2k, daniel POV. meeting max. mentions of violence and blood, nothing terribly explicit. this piece of paper goes closer to the front of the scrapbook :)

"Shit-"

Daniel hauls Jev back, practically tripping over his own feet as they haul ass backwards away from the encroaching Fog.

They stop when the Fog does, several feet away.

Jev clears his throat.

"I was under the impression that we just had a unit over how Fog does not move."

Daniel can feel his pulse pounding in his ears, fingers twitching.

"Except for when it's displaced somewhere, right? There was like, one fucking footnote about it."

Jev makes a face.

"Dan, if it wasn't on the study guide I promise you I didn't read it."

Daniel groans, eyeing the Fog warily.

"Displacement means there's something in there that isn't supposed to be, yeah?"

Jev eyes him, sweaty hair plastered to his forehead. Daniel should get him a headband, one of the frilly ones. He'd probably wear it.

"Do not suggest what I think you're about to suggest."

Daniel cringes.

"I think we should make sure there's not someone who needs help."

Jev sighs, heavy and long, before he adjusts the wraps around his wrists, tightening them.

"If there is anyone in there, they've gone insane already. Just so we're on the same page."

Daniel quirks a grin, blood starting to rush in his ears.

"Still worth saving Jev, that's the whole point of this academy gig."

Jev bitches all the way back to the Fog, muttering under his breath.

"For the record, Danny, the point of the academy gig is killing things. Saving people is an afterthought."

"Maybe for you."

Daniel wants to be different, wants to prioritize keeping people alive over avenging those who have already passed.

Stepping into the Fog is always unsettling, feels like all of his organs have switched spots, like everything has been moved a few inches the wrong way.

He's getting hopped up already, dialing in as he takes a deep inhale.

Wet, Fog, blood, persistent smell of mildew, ozone-

His eyes narrow. Jev is kneeling on the ground, pulling a glove off.

"Hey, Jev? Do you smell ozone?"

Jev tilts his head, mildly exasperated.

"I don't have honey badger nose, babe."

He presses his hand to the ground, eyes closing for a moment, before he opens them again.

"Disturbance this way."

Daniel makes a face.

"Ozone smell that way too."

They walk in silence for a few minutes, fingers clasped tightly together. Jev is better about initially finding people, but once Daniel has a track he's impossible to shake- it makes them a perfect team for Fog Retrieval runs, where someone might be lost.

Jev wrinkles his nose.

"I'm smelling it now."

Fog messes with the senses- direction, sight, hearing- but oddly enough it doesn't particularly interfere with smell. Vettel has a whole theory on it, something about natural predators and such, but Daniel usually tunes it out.

There's a scrape behind them, and Daniel twists around, eyes widening. He's ready, he's always ready-

Jev squeezes his hand.

"Not real."

Daniel blows out a slow breath. He's trying to stay collected, but it's hard when everything in him wants to fight.

Jev comes to a complete stop, spinning to stare weirdly at Daniel. His hair looks-

"Mate, why is your hair all...?"

Daniel makes a poof motion with his free hand. Jev's hair looks weirdly staticky, starting to frizz.

"So does yours, Dan."

He lifts a hand up, patting at his curls. They're frizzing out, losing the soft ringlet structure Daniel's actually been working pretty hard on.

He lowers his hand, staring at his arm. There's a sinking feeling in his gut, and the hair on his arm is standing straight up.

"Jev?"

He's met with wide eyes. This isn't a typical Fog reaction- it's not very Fog-like at all, it's almost the exact opposite. Fog thrives on oppressing and confusing the senses- Daniel feels more on edge right now than he ever has before, twitchy and starting to hit the edge of paranoia.

It's not just his abilities acting up here, and it's clearly affecting Jev as well, who runs his hands over his arms, looking worried.

Static, ozone...

The Fog doesn't have weather events. It's not supposed to, anyways.

"Keep going?"

Jev bites his lip, but he nods.

"Keep going."

Daniel links their fingers together, trying not to let the unease crawl up his gut into his chest. He knows they're both experiencing it, but some part of him is hoping against it.

"Static and ozone?"

Jev squeezes his fingers, eyes focused ahead.

"Real."

Fuck.

He hears the scraping behind them twice more, the Fog playing at the edges of his paranoia, flashing shadows in the corner of his vision. They hadn't expected to be down here this long- wandering victims to the Fog don't get very far, either eaten by natural predators or losing their minds rather quickly.

Whatever they're tracking, whatever's down here that's capable of displacement- it's in deep.

He has the fleeting thought that they should've called for an older student, or a professor. Someone who knows what to do when the Fog is acting atypical.

Keeping to routine is the only way any of them survive when they come down here. If the routine is changing...

There's an eardrum shattering crack, sending both Daniel and Jev to their knees for a moment, head spinning. Daniel is suddenly acutely aware of every part of him, completely on edge.

There's one noise, in the Fog, that they all know is real. It's a a noise that the Fog isn't capable of mimicking, a noise they're all taught young.

When a predator dies down here, they scream.

It's a haunting wail, one that's always made Daniel feel like there's an ice pick driving into his skull, stabbing out his eyes, but it's worse for Jev, sensitive at a base limit, and he lunges forward, curling his hands tight over Jev's ears and tugging his head into his lap, curling over him the best he can.

It feels like it goes forever, until it abruptly cuts off into silence, eerily quiet in the absence of its scream.

Daniel carefully uncurls from around Jev, eyes wide. His hair is on end, and Jev's is turning into a staticky mess even worse than before.

There's a weird popping noise around him- Daniel can't quite figure it out, like the air is snapping where he can't see it, surrounding him.

The smell of ozone is overwhelming. His lip curls at the faint sound of footsteps. They're staggering and offbeat, like the person is stumbling, uneven. Jev is still shaking, unconscious until his senses balance back out, which means it's just Daniel to protect him.

Daniel against whatever just killed a predator.

His fingers drift down to his boot, where he keeps a knife, and his eyes are trained in the direction the ozone smell is strongest, stumbling footsteps coming his way.

The figure that comes into his line of sight-

Daniel's first thought is that he's Northern. The white and orange suit gives it away, even if it's splattered with crimson, blood in varying stages of freshness.

The air is snapping around him, tiny little sparks and flashes, and there's a smell that Daniel is uncomfortably familiar with as burnt flesh. His gloves and arms of the suit are burnt black, charred through the protective plating.

Daniel's second thought is that he's strong. To have killed a predator- and clearly a few others, if he's reading the suit damage right- by himself is a testament to raw strength.

His third thought is that he and Jev are already too late, because the Northerner is insane. His eyes are bright and blue where he stares at Daniel, a cut on his forehead dripping blood down his face, and he has a split lip, swollen spots of purple across his cheekbones.

Daniel swallows, tugging Jev closer to him.

The Northerner tilts his head slowly, eyes dropping from Daniel to Jev in a sharp motion. Everything about him is sharp- there's no smooth movements, even his breathing is jerky and halting.

Daniel doesn't have any experience dealing with people from up North, besides Kimi. The older seniors handle any outreach, but Daniel knows their reputation- blunt, abrasive, dangerous. They don't lose. They don't work in teams either.

He's still not sure how Vettel convinced Kimi to come back to the academy with him, and Daniel's no Seb- and the figure across from him is no Kimi.

"Hey, look at me. Not him."

His voice comes out steadier than he feels, like reprimanding a dog. Vibrant blue eyes snap back up to meet his. The air pops around them.

Daniel's hair is still standing on end.

Now that he's looking... Daniel squints, trying to see past the caked on blood and bruises.

He's young. Practically a kid, if Daniel had to guess.

The Northerner- the kid- lifts a hand, jerky and twitchy as he extends it to Daniel. He's holding something, dark red dripping from between his clenched fingers, but he's watching Daniel intently.

"Stuck... food?"

His voice is rasping and soft, and he's got an accent, a lisp over some of the letters. Daniel doesn't understand for a moment, trying to separate the words. Stuck- he's asking if they're lost, probably.

Food... he's asking if they need provisions. Daniel knows what people who are lost in the Fog can do, they're all taught in emergency survival class. That doesn't mean he's ever actually eaten predator before. Last time they'd talked about it Lewis had asked if it upset the local ecosystem, using the top predator as prey.

They never had figured out an answer, and Daniel is staring it right in the face now, raw predator heart dripping blood down his palm.

"Uh, I'm okay for now. Thank you."

The boy takes a jerky step forward, eyes bright even as he drops to his knees, hitting the ground with a crack that makes Daniel's own legs ache in sympathy.

He's still looking at Jev.

Daniel curls a hand protectively around Jev's head, hiding him from view. Just because the kid still has words doesn't mean he's safe.

Far from it.

The kid looks confused before his eyes dart back up to Daniel, head tilted again.

"Scream?"

Right, he's trying- he's trying to figure out why Jev is hurt, with no visible injury. Predator screams are incapacitating to anyone, so Daniel's not sure how...

He nods anyways, and the kid makes a face. Daniel leans back on his heels to try and get a glimpse of his ears, and he can spot an old trail of blood from the kids left ear.

He's probably got hearing damage already, if he's been-

Been killing them for food.

Jev shifts in his lap, and the kids eyes snap back down at him, narrowing. The air pops threateningly.

"Whoa, easy, Jesus. Easy. He's fine, he's really sweet actually. He's not going to hurt you, mate."

The kid stays completely still, not even blinking as Jev gets an arm underneath himself, groaning.

"What the fuck happened?"

His voice is slurred, and Daniel gently grabs his face, twisting it towards him as Jev gets his legs under him.

He tries to keep his voice level, sounding as calm as possible even though he's sure his eyes are telling a different story.

"We found a friend. He killed the predator, which was very kind of him, and now we're going to see if he wants help getting out."

Daniel's not entirely sure getting out would help the kid at this point- he seems too far gone.

He's still holding the predator heart, but his hands are in his lap, and Daniel realizes what he'd thought were black gloves are some other kind of material, synthetic and twisted in a way that can't possibly be comfortable.

It almost looks like they're melted into him.

His fingers don't move, stuck in a half curl, like he'd made a clawing motion and hasn't been able to uncurl them.

The unease is growing as Jev meets his eyes, nodding before he settles in a cross legged position, meeting the kids eyes.

"Hey mate. I'm Jev. Our frizzy haired friend here is Daniel, since he probably didn't tell you that. We're on our way out of here, if you wanted to hitch a ride."

This is why Jev has better scores on battlefield soft skills than Daniel does.

The kid blinks, eyes still wide before he shakes his head, jerky movements. He can't twist his head to the left all the way.

"Nee, I kill."

Daniel blinks.

"Sorry?"

He frowns, the movement sending a fresh run of blood from his lip, lifting an arm to gesture at the Fog around them before gingerly lifting the predator heart.

"Kill."

Jev makes an understanding noise, which would be nice if Daniel understood.

"You're here to kill predators."

His voice is soft in contrast to the way the words send chills down his spine. It's been discussed as a hypothetical at the academy before, more as a discussion on morality and ethics than an actual option.

Sending someone into the Fog indefinitely, for the sole purpose of killing as many predators as possible before they die themselves- it's completely unethical.

The kid is down here anyways.

He nods at Jev, blinking.

Daniel squeezes Jev's fingers tightly. If the kid is insane or not doesn't matter anymore- he's a walking precedent. People are going to want to see him, to figure out the prolonged effects of Fog.

Professor Lambiase has entire articles about what extended Fog exposure could do to an adolescent brain.

They need to get him out of here.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

A Shoot Star || Odysseus ||

A/n: low key teared up a little for this one.

The palace was quiet.

Too quiet.

The halls that had once been filled with laughter, the sound of Odysseus’s voice, the warmth of his presence— now felt hollow, empty, aching.

You sat at the edge of the balcony, your hands folded gently over your lap, your gaze turned toward the heavens.

A single shooting star streaked across the sky.

And for the first time in years, you let herself whisper his name.

“Odysseus…”

The wind carried your voice into the endless night, as if it might somehow reach him, wherever he was.

Your heart ached.

Your body remembered his touch, his warmth, the way he had kissed you before he left, promising he would come back.

That had been so long ago.

And yet, you still believed.

You closed your eyes, your voice soft, trembling, full of longing.

“I saw a shooting star and thought of you. I sang a lullaby by the waterside and knew If you were here, I’d sing to you.”

You gently traced your fingers along the stone railing, feeling the rough, familiar surface beneath your touch.

This was the very spot where you had stood beside him so many nights before—before war, before Troy, before the gods had stolen him away from you.

Now, you were alone.But you were not broken.

You tilted your head toward the sky, your voice barely above a whisper.“You’re on the other side as the skyline splits in two.I'm Miles away from seeing you But I can see the stars from here and I wonder, do you see them too?”

A gentle breeze swept through the palace, carrying the scent of the sea, of salt and longing, of distant places and forgotten promises.Your heart ached with the weight of missing him.

With the knowledge that even if he was alive, he was far, far away.

But somewhere—

Somewhere, beneath the same sky, he was looking at the stars too.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your dress, a single tear slipping down your cheek.But you would not let yourself despair.You had to believe and you had to hope.

Because you knew—deep in your bones, deep in your heart.

That no matter how far apart you both were, your love had not faded.

"So open your eyes and see.The way our horizons meet.And all of the lights will lead.Into the night with me.”

You let out a soft, shaky breath, pressing a hand to your chest.Your love for him had not wavered.

Not after ten years of war.Not after ten years of waiting.

Not even now, as suitors filled the halls, as Ithaca begged for a new king, as the gods remained silent.

You knew.You knew he would come back.Because Odysseus always found his way home.

And when he did—

You will be waiting....always waiting.

"And I know these scars will bleed.But both of our hearts believe,All of these stars will guide us home.”Your voice wavered as your nails dug into your palm

You closed your eyes, a single thought echoing in your mind.

Come home, my love.

And far across the sea—Beneath the same stars—

Odysseus whispered your name, too.

He will come home

[jinx-xxed]

Beautiful Thing Caged

Chapter 4; If you hear my voice

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Tell me the difference between the first two images. You can’t. Anyway, I’m so so sorry this took so long 😭😭 I’m praying to god that it won’t be this much of a wait next time, my writing block beat my ass 🫠 it is my promise that the next chapter is gonna actually have the good stuff in it <3

⇦ Part 3

Summary; Nobody told you how stressful being on the run was going to be.

Content; Werewolf AU, modern AU, werewolf Kylo Ren, human reader, or are they, scientist reader, soulmates, angst, being on the run, government fugitives, modern version of a Force bond?, mind communication, Target shopping trip woohoo, possessive Kylo, needy Kylo, brief scenting mentions, transformation, Kylo’s wolf form, Kylo knows more than he’s letting on

[Every chapter has specific content warnings]

Wc; 5.9k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

“You look tense.”

You glance to your right. “Who, me? No, I’m fine. I’m so fine. We’re just on the run from the government. That’s fine. I’m just hiding a beast man in my car. Yes, yeah, this is fine.”

There’s an awkward sort of silence that stretches between you afterwards. You can’t stand it, it leaves you alone with your thoughts for too long. You manage to unhook your hand from white-knuckling the steering wheel to crank the radio, some pop song from the 80s pouring through your speakers. You barely comprehend whatever words the guy is singing, but it helps give you a raft amidst the ocean of your mind. Something else to focus on besides Kylo hunched uncomfortably in the passenger seat and the possibility of being followed.

There’s been nothing so far, which you’re more than grateful for. Your eyes flick between the road and rearview mirror every two seconds, expecting some black van to pop up over the horizon’s edge to chase you down like in the spy movies you’ve seen. But it hasn’t happened and it honestly only makes you more uneasy. The rational part of your brain—which has been fighting for its life nonstop—keeps trying to tell you that it’s the dead of night and Kylo killed most of the security in the facility; you have some breathing room. It doesn’t keep your palms from sweating and your heart from threatening to beat out of your chest though.

The world around your car passes in a blur because of you going way over the speed limit—about thirty over in fact. The impossibly tall trees of the surrounding forest are illuminated by your passing headlights and you can only hope there’s not a cop car nestled among them somewhere. You brush that thought away in case it finally causes you to have a stress-induced heart attack.

At least Kylo seems calm. He hasn’t said much to you, probably because he can see how fast your brain is turning. There’s a million plans going through your mind, and he doesn’t want to be the one to disturb you. He instead keeps himself busy by studying your car, fascinated by the piece of machinery. He doesn’t touch anything since he still has blood smeared all over his hands, something you’ll have to clean ASAP. His shirt is stained too. So are his pants. And his feet. And his face. God, he’s a bloody mess. His eyes consistently stay locked on the window, on the trees that pass by in brown and green smudges. You know he wants to go back out there, but it’s too dangerous and… you can’t lose him like that. You grip the wheel a little tighter.

You manage to cut your drive time in half, your small neighborhood coming up faster than you would’ve thought. Your car trembles as you haphazardly veer into your driveway, barely managing to turn it off before you’re halfway out of the door. You run to the passenger side, undoing Kylo’s seatbelt and urging him out. “Come on! C’mon, c’mon!” You say desperately, tugging his arm for emphasis. He doesn’t fight against you, he wouldn’t dream of it. He merely follows your lead, seemingly eager to do so.

You almost drop your house key with the way your hands shake but you manage to jam it in and unlock your front door, shoving it open so harshly that it slams against the wall on the other side. If it left a dent, you don’t care. You’ll never be coming back here again anyway.

You bolt upstairs, taking them two at a time and not bothering with the lights. It should unnerve you how well you can suddenly see in the dark, but you can’t spare a thought towards it. You bolt into your bedroom, immediately grabbing the big duffel bag from your closet and stuffing things inside. Only the essentials; comfortable and flexible shirts and pants, socks, underwear. As you tear your room apart, Kylo stands obediently behind you, head turning to take it all in. You wouldn’t be able to tell, but he’s overjoyed that you’ve welcomed him into your space. It’s a step you aren’t even aware you’re taking with him, but that’s okay. He’s more than happy to wait there breathing in the abundance of your scent and looking over all of your things.

Until you’re shoving him out and towards the bathroom. “You need to get all that blood off.” You mutter, pulling back your shower door and turning on the faucet. You let it run for a moment before deeming it hot enough. You give the bottom of his shirt a single tug. “Take these off.”

You find that you can’t even acknowledge the fact he’s stripping right in front of you, every toned muscle and scar and freckle in perfect visibility. You only have the energy to spare a single glance that you use to look over his abs, but refusing to go any lower than that. The way he’s so unashamed, the way he just stands there like it’s normal, is new to you. It makes you glance away and clear your throat. You motion for him to get under the water and it immediately turns red when it hits him, running down the drain in bloody streams. You hand him a washcloth. “Use this to scrub all that off. You can use my soap if you want to, I don’t care. Just don’t take too long.”

He glances at you, trying to hold your gaze but you look away. “Okay.” His voice sends electricity jolting through you, the sound having been so rare throughout all of this that it still manages to shock you.

You hurry out of the bathroom, missing the way Kylo takes a long inhale of your shampoo, practically ingraining the smell into his mind.

You go back into your bedroom, dropping to your knees to dig around under your bed until you can find the old box you’re looking for. You call it your “disappearing in a hurry” emergency kit. Working for the government did not help your paranoia, but at least it ended up preparing you for a situation you never thought would actually happen. Inside there’s a burner phone, a first aid kit, a small utility kit, roughly a thousand dollars, a flash light, batteries, a hunters knife your dad gave you for your birthday, and a contact list. You take it all and sort it into either your duffel bag or the backpack you decided to also grab.

After changing out of your lab clothes, you check your watch—2:58 AM. Almost two hours since everything changed and yet none of it feels real. You almost wish you’d simply wake up in your bed at any moment and brush all this off as a crazy dream. You know that won’t happen though, the blood crusting the undersides of your fingernails is proof enough. With that thought, you force yourself to stand despite how weary you feel. You turn and can’t help the screech that leaves you when you find Kylo standing naked in the doorway, water still dripping off his body. “Jesus!” You exclaim, putting a hand to your chest to try and calm your constantly racing heart. You’re seriously going to have a heart attack; you can feel the silver hairs starting to take root.

Kylo’s head tilts. “Did I scare you?”

“Fucking- yeah, you scared me!” You brush past him and grab a towel from the bathroom before throwing it at him. It doesn’t do anything of course, but it makes you feel a little better. “Now dry off!”

You sigh, looking down at his clothes that were left in a heap on the floor. You definitely don’t have anything of his size in your house to replace them. The material is black and there’s not that much blood on them… You decide they’ll work until you can find something else.

Kylo pulls his clothes back on, the black t-shirt straining against his muscles in the way you remember. His ears stand alert and ruffled at the top of his damp hair, his equally damp tail protruding from the base of his spine. Right. That. You hum in thought, rifling through your closet again until finding an old baseball cap from Bass Pro Shop. “Here.” You say, standing on the very tips of your toes to reach up and secure the hat over his head. He winces as you shove his ears under the cap. The thing just barely fits him but it does the job.

Then you hand him a pair of flip flops that are at least three or four sizes too small. “Also wear these. Until I can get you something else.” He wrinkles his nose at them but doesn’t object, making a valiant attempt to fit his feet into the flip flops. His heels hang off the back but it’s better than nothing. It still looks ridiculous though and you both know it.

“Is there something we can do about this?” You ask, lightly holding his tail in your palms. Even with it being wet from the shower, it still feels remarkably soft and thick. It twitches in your grasp, like he wants to pull away but refrains from doing so.

“If you’re asking if I can make it disappear, then no.” Kylo says roughly, like he’s struggling to contain himself. The muscles in his jaw visibly work beneath his skin.

“Stuff it under your shirt.” You say.

“What?”

You don’t repeat yourself before your grabbing his tail, lifting up the back of his shirt, and trying to stuff it inside. His entire body tenses and then he whirls on you faster than you could ever hope to react. The tips of his claws threaten to dig into your wrists. “Knock it off.” He snarls at you, his fangs in perfect view.

“Why? You need to hide that thing.” You snap right back, glaring. “Unless you want to get caught again and killed. Your choice.”

He releases you with a huff, turning his back and reaching to try and fix his tail himself. “It’s sensitive.” He mutters.

“Oh.” You say. Then you pause, now realizing you really shouldn’t have just grabbed it out of nowhere. ��Ohh. Sorry.” He grunts—a perfectly noncommittal response.

You grab your bags, slinging them over your shoulders and huffing at the weight. You give your room one last look—all your posters and tiny collectibles, your few stuffed animals, the books on your bookshelves… all of it is getting left behind. You’ll never see it again. You’ll miss your bed most of all, you think. It always managed to hug your body in all the right ways. You swallow thickly and turn away from it, instead leading Kylo back downstairs.

You grab the family photo on your tv stand, finding yourself unable to leave it behind. You try not to linger too long on the faces of your mother and father. Then you rummage through your kitchen, taking a miscellaneous haul of canned foods and a few water bottles. Kylo offers to take some of the things from you and you don’t object, your arms having quickly become too full. “Alright, let’s keep moving. I doubt time will continue being so generous.” You say, looking at the clock on your stove. 3:27 AM.

Back outside, you throw everything in the trunk of your Nissan and clamber into the front once more. You quickly back out of your driveway, your headlights illuminating your house for a final time. It’ll probably be swarming with agents soon. It fills you with remorse, but you have to shake it off. You should be glad to leave that empty place where you locked yourself inside day in and day out, too afraid to interact with anyone because of your job. This’ll be good for you. Or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself.

You glance towards the glove compartment, remembering that you’d stuffed the gun you’d taken in there. A much safer alternative to carrying it on your person. It’ll be good to have in case you ever need it, although when you have Kylo with you, you doubt that you will. Precautions and what not.

You follow the familiar roads towards the gas station that sits at the edge of your small town. Most things in this place are within walking distance, nothing straying too far except for the government facility that sits about an hours drive away. The town is full of rumors because of it, and that’s part of the reason you stayed away from the residents. You didn’t want any questions. It left you alone for the last five years of your life and for some reason you’re just now realizing that. Maybe it’s because you finally have someone with you after all that time.

You don’t get a chance to think on it anymore as you pull into the 24-hour gas station. You step out to get gas first, filling your tank to the brim. You’ll need it. Then, after you parked closer to the store, you motion for Kylo to get out. You refuse to leave him outside by himself, hence why you put so much effort in trying to hide his wolf attributes. The tail sticking up his shirt definitely looks awkward, but it seems he flattened it enough to where it doesn’t look… horrible. It’ll be a mercy when you can get him new clothes.

You use the ATM attached to the side of the gas station, taking out as much as possible from your account. That turns out to be 2.3 thousand. Added to your thousand from your emergency kit, you think it should be enough for the time being. Once you leave the area you won’t be able to use your card anymore though. What a pain in the ass. You sigh as you pull open the door, that familiar gas station smell hitting you and filling your nostrils.

You don’t need much, just a map and a few extra snacks you can tear into in the car plus an energy drink or two. You tell Kylo to get anything he wants and it comes at no shock that he takes a bag of beef jerky, the meaty smell probably calling to him even through the plastic. You head to the register with your haul, haphazardly laying it all in front of the cashier.

The young guy says your name with familiarity and a smile. You have to look at his name tag to jog your memory. Mason. “Oh, hey! I haven’t seen you around for a while. Let alone at this hour.” He says. His brows crease. “Is everything okay? You look… awful.”

You try and laugh it off. “Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine. Just a lot of… research lately. Needed some late night fuel.”

He nods. “Totally, totally. You sure, though? Don’t forget it’s always important to take a-“

Mason’s words trail off from a growl that comes rumbling out of Kylo, his sharp teeth just barely showing between his lips. His eyes with their slitted pupils look downright scary in the harsh lighting. You quickly smack him on the chest, making him shut the hell up as a blush creeps up your neck. “Just check me out, please, Mason.” You say, fumbling to get your card out.

“Woah-kay. Sorry.” He mumbles, now doing a very good job of avoiding looking at you or Kylo as he puts everything in a bag. He tells you your total, you pay, and then you’re grabbing your stuff. “Hey, if you need anything..” A fierce glare from Kylo cuts Mason off again and has you rushing from the gas station, tugging the beast man out behind you.

“I need you to not growl at everyone else you meet so we don’t raise suspicion.” You hiss as soon as you’re back in the car.

“He was asking too many questions.” Kylo retorts while tearing open the bag of beef jerky with his teeth.

You roll your eyes. “My point still stands. He’s going to get interrogated about that. Just- keep it in check.” He only huffs at you. Another noncommittal response from him, but you’ll take it.

Once you’re back on the road, you take your phone out of where it was resting in the cup holder. “Can you break this?” You ask Kylo, handing it over to him. He was in the middle of eating his jerky but puts it down to take your phone. “Like, in half.”

His face scrunches in concentration for just a second before there’s a resounding snapping sound. “Like that?” He asks, holding up the now two halves of your phone.

You will admit you’re unnerved by how quickly he did that and with such ease too. But he did shatter that seemingly impenetrable glass back at the facility so really you don’t know what you expected. “Yes… like that. Thanks.” You take the two pieces, seeing how he broke the SIM card as well from where he decided to cleave it. Very nice. You roll down your window and use all the strength you can to chuck it into the trees beyond. You’ll make that up to Mother Nature sometime later, but for now you’re just glad to have that glorified tracking device out of your car. You can relax just the slightest bit.

Kylo opens one of your chip bags for you, setting it up on your console so you can multitask eating and driving. You have no set destination yet, your only goal for now being to get as far away from the facility as possible. They have to have people deployed by now, someone would’ve reported the alarm. The thought makes your palms clammy.

You steel yourself with a deep breath. You have a long journey ahead of you.

» ☆ «

You pull into the Target parking lot as the sun rises over the building’s edge, washing everything in that peaceful, orange glow. You wish you could mimic that feeling for yourself but it feels impossible as you usher Kylo out of the car and hurry across the asphalt with him right on your heels. He’s looking around at everything, utterly fascinated by the shopping center, and you have to keep a hold on him to make sure he doesn’t wander in front of a car.

The baseball caps you both wear hide the upper halves of your faces for which you’re grateful when you pass under security cameras, the things making your skin crawl. You drove straight through the night, only stopping for the occasional and necessary pee break—more than a few ended up being in the middle of the woods. You made it across state lines hours ago, but you still felt the tension in your shoulders. For all you knew, there was some nationwide alert to be looking out for people matching your descriptions and a government agent would tackle you to the ground as soon as you step foot in the Target.

That in fact did not happen as you walked through the sliding glass doors.

You go straight towards the clothing section since Kylo’s bloodstained, singular outfit with horribly small flip flops can only last him so much longer. His tail threatens to slip from the back of his shirt every two seconds despite his best efforts to keep it in place. You begin to look through the selection of men’s clothing, seeking out anything black or dark colored. Thankfully with it turning to colder seasons, that’s most of what’s out. Kylo clearly has no inclination towards what he wears so you have to take charge and pick things out for him.

You’re lucky that a large size in most apparel seems to fit him. There’s some strain here and there but you have to admit you like the way his muscles push against the fabric. You manage to get three shirts, two pairs of pants, an extra large hoodie, socks, boxers, and a different cap just so he has one that doesn’t grate so much on his ears. It was all fairly easy but shoes on the other hand…

You groan as you look through the boxes, trying to find the right size. “Why do you have to be so massive?”

“You say that like I chose to be this way.” He says, pulling off another pair that didn’t fit him right.

“Well, it definitely feels like your fault.” You mutter. You take out a few pairs in size 12 that you managed to find, laying them down haphazardly next to where he sits. You’ve been looking for shoes for thirty minutes already, with you going back and forth whenever another pair doesn’t work out. You’re getting antsy. You don’t want to stay in one spot too long, not when you’re still too close to where you came from. You breathe a sigh of relief when a pair of black Nike’s seems suitable for him.

“Alright, we’ll check out all your clothes first and then go get some extra food.” You say, both of you carrying large bundles of items between you.

You go to the self-checkout, feeling far too wound taut to interact with another human being. Kylo hovers over your shoulder like an imposing wall as you scan everything, throwing them into the too-small bags. The total wasn’t as much as you thought it would be, but it was still enough to make you huff in disbelief. You stuffed the mile long receipt into your back pocket, then hurrying to the bathrooms.

You dig out a shirt, pants, the boxers and socks, the hat and the hoodie, forcing them towards him with the shoe box. “Here, find the biggest stall and go change. Throw out your old clothes when you’re done.” He stands there looking at you expectantly and it takes you a second to realize before you scoff. “Kylo, I can’t follow you in there. I’ll be right here.”

He gives you the saddest expression he’s been able to muster since you’ve known him, reminding you exactly of a lonely puppy. If you aren’t mistaken, there’s even a whine that comes from him and it threatens to break your resolve. No. You can’t go into a men’s restroom. You give him a shove towards the door. “Kylo, go. You’ll be fine.” He finally listens to you and disappears inside but he’s definitely not happy about it.

As you wait outside, you almost wish you actually had gone in with him. You don’t know if it’s because of what little sleep you’ve gotten or whatever it is between you that bonds you both together, but your anxiety without him next to you skyrockets. You tap your foot, you bite at your nails, your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest, scenarios play in your head of something bad happening in a simple bathroom.

It all disappears when Kylo comes back out a few minutes later. He beelines to you, immediately pressing himself against you and nuzzling into your neck like he needs your scent to be able to calm himself. “Alright, alright.” You mutter affectionately, gently pushing him off you so you stop getting weird looks from people coming into the store. He relents, slipping his hand into yours instead. You certainly don’t mind, his large hand is warm and calloused and an instant comfort.

Looking him over, you see that the new clothes fit him remarkably well. He looks normal… or at least as normal as he can be with the huge scar on his face and an unnerving aura surrounding him. The extra large hoodie was a smart choice, the thing doing a much better job of hiding his tail beneath it.

Hand in hand, you lead him towards the grocery aisle, also taking a basket on your way. You grab mostly canned or boxed goods since you had no idea when you’re going to be able to find someplace to rest. You throw in some fruits and simple vegetables like carrots and also two packages of steaks after Kylo wouldn’t stop staring at them. You know his tail would be wagging if it was freed of its cotton confines. You get toiletries while you’re at it, replacing a lot of the things you had to leave behind at your house and adding new things for Kylo.

You feel like you can finally breathe when you at last leave the Target, the multitude of white bags split between the both of you. They get stuffed into your backseat and then you’re back on the road.

“That wasn’t too bad, right? I’m just glad I could get you some clothes.” You say, casting a sideways glance at Kylo. He looks far more comfortable. You’re glad.

He looks down at himself, his tail now freed and tucked across his legs, his hat removed to show his ears. He plucks absently at the cuffs on his hoodie, running his thumb along the ribbed texture. “They’re nice.” He says, voice softened with something you can’t quite name. He’s silent for a moment, his jaw working and left ear flicking once as he debates on his words before swallowing. “Thank you.”

Your fingers tighten briefly around the wheel, your nod small. He sounded so unsure, like he’s never had a proper reason to thank someone before. “Mhm.”

» ☆ «

The day passes in a crawl.

You drive, and drive, and drive.

The only things you know are the leather of the steering wheel and the droning of the radio.

You’ve gotten through another state, leaving the facility further and further behind. You can feel the burning beneath your eyes, the way your muscles bunch and quiver. You’re past the point of energy drinks or old gas station coffee being able to help you so you instead stay awake using your urge for survival. Adrenaline has brought you this far, surely it can bring you a little farther.

But where are you even going?

God, you really didn’t think this through, huh?

All of this is crazy, something you’ve had to come to terms with multiple times over. Breaking a werewolf out of a government facility, making an enemy of said government, driving to god knows where without sufficient preparation. And for what? Just because you “felt a connection” to some beast man you barely know? You realize that you’re insane and you probably should’ve checked yourself into a hospital before going through with any of this.

But instead here you are, exhaustion making everything feel heavier as the sun sinks below the mountains in the distance. You realize then how much your body aches despite your stretches, how your stomach is twisting around itself in its hunger. You haven’t paid much attention to anything besides Kylo, Kylo, Kylo—and you’ve paid the price. Darkness threatens the edges of your vision, your neck feeling too weak to hold up your own head. Your frayed mind tells you how they’re right behind you, that you’ll be captured and this was all for nothing. You’ll die in the same place this all started.

“Stop the car.”

The sudden voice startles you, snapping you out of your spiral and forcing you to wake the fuck back up. “What?”

Kylo’s looking at you. “Pull over.”

You blink, shaking your head. “Wh- What? Why?”

“You need to take a break. You’re going to collapse.” He says simply, though there’s the tone of demand behind his words.

You’re embarrassed he was able to tell the state of your mind but you can’t disagree with him. You slowly ease your car to a stop along the small road that cuts through a lush forest, only wide enough to fit one car going either direction. You find a flatter strip and veer off the road, tucking your car as far into the trees as it would allow without you getting stuck. It’s not much, but it’ll keep it hidden in the dark and keep people from getting curious.

You open your door and step out. You find that your legs shake uncontrollably and can barely support your weight, making you brace a hand on the warm hood of your car. Kylo is by your side in a second, looking at you with concern and trying to offer support. You brush him off again like you did at the facility and you can see the frustration on his features. “I’m fine. I just need a minute outside of the damn car.” You mutter.

You dig a few things out of the backseat including the map, a bottle of water, and an apple. You then traipse through the woods while trying not to trip and fall in the dark with Kylo right on your heels, who’s navigating the rough and uneven terrain with the ease of someone who’s lived in it his entire life. You find a small clearing with a felled log and promptly prop yourself up against it, the slightly damp, cool bark a balm on your back.

You spread the map out on the grass before you, using rocks to hold down the corners. While drinking your water and practically inhaling the apple, you try to look at where you are and where you plan on going. However, all the different tiny and multicolored lines keep blurring together into one giant, incomprehensible mess. You can’t keep your thoughts straight—or your body for that matter. You keep teetering off to the side when you lose focus, your limbs too worn out to keep you upright.

You groan, resting your face in your palms and digging your fingers into your eyes, trying to push away the burning exhaustion. It feels like your eyes are closed for only a second but when you open them again, there’s a massive black wolf standing in front of you with Kylo nowhere in sight. An involuntary, startled scream erupts from you before you recognize the large scar bisecting the fur on its face.

“Kylo? Holy fuck, is that you?” You breathe, eyes wide and body frozen until the creature nods his head. “Oh my god.” You don’t know what else to say besides that, so you repeat the statement a couple times over.

His wolf form is huge and a little terrifying. You know that if you were standing at full height, he would still be a head or more taller than you, similar to how he was as a human. His fur is sleek and full, stretching nicely along his powerful, muscled body and only being interrupted by whatever scars he holds. His brown eyes shine brighter than they did before, his pupils narrowed to slits. An apex predator standing in front of you so calmly like this is a little unnerving, like it shouldn’t be real. Like he should be ripping your throat out any second.

I would never harm you.

His deep voice reverberates inside your head, echoing across your brain and making you jump. You’re sure it looks like your eyes are about to fall out of your head from how wide they are as you gape at him. The wolf’s mouth hadn’t moved and yet you could hear him clear as day. It was weird and otherworldly, sending a shiver down your spine. “How in the hell are you doing that?” You demand, voice barely above a whisper in worry that you’d ruin this moment.

We’re connected, you and I. It allows me inside your head. You could do the same if you were in your proper form.

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean by that?”

His big head shakes. We can discuss it later. You’re far too exhausted for that now. You need to rest, it’s been nearly two days.

You scoff. “Out here? In the woods?”

He tilts his head, ears flopping with the movement. You’ve always loved wolves—they’re so cute. The woods are a safe place for someone trying to hide. Nothing will happen to you out here.

“How very reassuring.” You say, even as a yawn interrupts your words. He’s right, it’s been almost two days with no sleep and very little nutrition. You’re exhausted and on the brink of passing out. You don’t even have the energy to argue, because what else would you do? Find a hotel? Your nerves wouldn’t possibly allow for something like that.

So you oblige him. You find a little spot cushioned with moss and thicker grass, easing yourself down onto the forest floor. It’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, a little chilly from the October weather, but that’s quickly remedied when Kylo settles in behind you. He curves himself perfectly along your body, putting one big paw over you to pull you into him even further. His form practically engulfs yours, his soft fur warming you like a fire. His tail curls up around you and then all you know is him. He smells like pine trees with an undercurrent of comforting campfire smoke, filling your senses and releasing the tension from your muscles. You feel the rise and fall of his breaths with the way you’re pressed into him, the air from his nose tickling the hairs on top of your head.

But even with all that, sleep still seems too far from your grasp. You stare out into the woods, your paranoia eating away at you and making you think you see dark figures amongst the trees. Making you think that any noise along the road is a vehicle full of government agents primed to take you away. The cold moss does little to soothe the anxiety-induced flush in your face, your body trembling from your self-sabotage and imaginary enemies.

I hate to see you like this. Because of me. Kylo’s voice is quiet in your head, full of remorse. Please, sleep. You need it.

Your fingers dig into the grass, your teeth grinding together almost painfully. What if something happens when you close your eyes? What if they find you? You move a hand up to cover your face, the freezing cold of your palm soothing against your cheeks burning from your anxiety and stress. “I- I know… but I just-“

His form presses closer to you, which you didn’t think was possible. If something passed by, you doubt you’d even be visible within his dark fur. His head dips down to nuzzle against your head, trying so desperately to soothe you in the only ways he knows how. I will protect you. Go to sleep. I can’t feel you when you’re like this.

“Feel me?” You mumble, the question slurred by your exhaustion.

Your emotions, your thoughts. It’s all muddled because you can barely think straight. He explains, annoyance biting into his last words. He’s actually upset you haven’t been looking after yourself. The idea of someone caring about you that much seems utterly ridiculous. Rest. I’ll keep you safe. His words sound so sincere with such a deadly threat to them that you can’t help but believe him. You saw what he did back in the facility, you watched him wash off the blood.

Your eyes finally close, unable to resist any longer as the dark of night consumes the forest. Your sleep is uneasy, but you consider yourself lucky to have fallen asleep at all. You know it’s only because Kylo is there and you fully trust in his promise to keep you from harm.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Tags (comment if you’d like to be tagged next time!); @coldheartedmar @hazydespair @bullet-clubs-bitch @paristheonewhoreads @s1eepy-bear @takeyour-pants-off @toraar @witchywannabe3263

⇦ Part 3

[honeyhour]

“well, to be fair, i did bring that up and it made your brain blue screen, so i thought you wanted to move on. just for the record though, i happen to like you the way you are. of course there’s still no harm in wanting to better yourself... i could probably benefit from some of that too.” who couldn’t? knowing este and her typical perfectionist tendencies, it’ll be a mighty long process before she’s even close to satisfied. “i’m not jealous, i’m perfectly happy with my height. i’ve gotten this far with it. if i ever need to see something up high, i always figure something out.” maybe she should start using one of those little stools you can buy. that’s probably safer than scaling counters to reach the top shelf like she has in the past. “films? i’m open to trying anything once, but i prefer not to be sad when i’m watching something... musicals are fun.” music is another huge element of putting together a skating performance; arguably one of the most important. it makes sense that she would find enjoyment in it elsewhere too, especially when it's done by people who are far more talented. “ew no, i do not wear tutus. costume or dress would be the usual term… if you’re lucky, i can show you mine one day. you said your favourite colour was red, right? i think i have one of those tucked away somewhere.” she’s tried just about every colour imaginable, some more flattering than others. considering how much they cost, brushing the dust off and letting them see the light of day again wouldn’t be the worst thing. might as well get her money's worth. “i couldn’t do that! what if i marked your pretty face? i’d never forgive myself.”

there is something to be said about how easily they toss the word 'couple' around as though he's not already in a relationship himself but given the parallel trajectory of his interactions with both sisters, it might end up being more apt in the long run. until then, the only way to nurture this is in secret and he doesn't know for how much longer that's required. "you're right. maybe we don't have to focus on the details like how i'm an asshole to seemingly everyone but you? believe it or not, i am trying to be a better person... maybe you're the first and only step i need to get there." likely all wishful thinking but with their interactions up to this point, it seems like she's content. not asking him to change for the 'better'. "okay so if it's an obvious advantage, does that mean it's a bad one? you're just jealous. fine — we can argue about something else if you want? what's your take on films? what kind do you like?" a bit of a jarring switch in topic but how else do you organically get to know someone outside of just asking them a bunch of questions? "you think i'd fit in your leotard?" he asks with a snicker. "that's what they're called right? not tutus?" his ignorance is showing, hoping that the benefit of the doubt here will earn him some extra brownie points and more of that brilliant smile. "noted — you can knock me out with your tiny fingers if you want. i'll try not to do anything egregious but no promises."

[bambi-kinos]

imo many of those things you list as Paul's abuse of John are only abuse if they were in a defined, committed, exclusive relationship. Which you say they weren't, and you say Paul refusing to define the relationship and be honest about it was the worst of his abuse. Those are mutually exclusive.

I see what you mean and I sorta agree? Like I don't think Paul was in the same league as their peers in the music industry. He's too well balanced for that.

But I also think that he neglected and manipulated John a lot with everything he did. It honestly sounds to me like Paul was ghosting John while he was pulling his Prince of London shtick and that left John alone as a vulnerable person. For someone like John, trapped in their situation where they're apocalyptically famous and they have no one but each other, I just don't see how it couldn't be abusive to be a part of John's support network for so long and then just...drop him. Because the allure of being in Swinging London was so strong.

And yeah it is balanced by the fact that Paul had to live his own life but that still leaves John out in the cold. Paul refused to commit to him and refused to lead the conversation as only he could. John wasn't going to take those steps unless Paul said "I think we should take these steps." It left them in this hellish limbo where they weren't one thing but also weren't the other and Paul kept John there very deliberately because he was counting time and keeping his options open. John realized how much of his life he had wasted on Paul who had never intended to actually go through with any plans or hopes they may have had for the hazy "after the Beatles" time period. Like what is that, that Paul decided somewhere inside him that he didn't want to continue on with John, that he wanted to get married to someone else and have kids with someone else but he also wanted to be a Beatle? Which was supposed to be his monument to loving John, the great big thing they did together?

Paul said himself that he and John couldn't be married and stay Beatles the entire time. I think that kind of manipulation and stalling for time as Paul waited for Miss Right to walk into his life, all while having no intention of acting on whatever he promised John when they were kids or maybe right after Beatlemania hit... I dunno, to me that stretches way past "being an asshole" and into "negligent abuse." Paul looked the other way when John's depression was peaking. Then John must have felt used after he spent the summer in 1967 living with Paul and then Paul snatched that away by having his Gay Panic after Brian died. And the truth is that Paul did use John and did screw with his head, even if it was unintentional. Abuse can be just as unconscious as conscious.

It's definitely not the same thing as what John did but Paul was a great deal slimier about it and then he has a way of wiggling from that kind of responsibility. So I understand and sympathize with a lot of John's anger.

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

I’ll recognize you even through a thousand copies

Warning ⚠️; Minor Character Death, injuries, blood, fluff. Bad German

Pairing; Steve Roger/Male!Commander!Reader

Summary; Even tho S.T.R.I.K.E faced heroes and villains from many dimensions, you were still able to recognize yours. It didn't mean you didn't hurt seeing them dying.

Note; I’ve been playing STRIKE FORCE and it hit me that we are killing the other versions while kicking Steve’s ass. Made me sad so I wrote this.

Credit: @cafekitsune

The little town was a battlefield with nothing left standing or so. You walked through the destruction, gun in hand, searching for survivors. You felt sick thinking about what you had to do, but you were going to do it; there were no other choices. Those heroes and villains from other dimensions were beyond saving; Ultimus had not only broken their minds but also their souls transforming them into his puppets.

Ultimus who didn't care about a single one of them; they were meats for the grinder. No. But you did. You had memorized how many of each you had killed, trying to keep them alive in your mind. It was a burden. But if you didn't, who would do it? They had no one to grieve them but you, The Commander tasked with killing them.

You stopped by a body, bile teasing your lips as your eyes fell on Bucky’s lifeless eyes. Not yours, thank God; he wasn't even present for this battle so it was easy to know. You still kneeled by his side and took his vitals; his body was clay-cold and rigor mortis was already settling in. You sighed and closed his eyes at the same time as yours. Hopefully Steve wouldn't see him; that Bucky looked almost identical to his best friend.

You heard shouting somewhere to your right and you left the body alone; you were going to point his position later for disposal. Right now you wanted to know what was going on.

After walking around a fallen building you saw Steve, injured and bloody, stumbling toward Fury. Naturally, the man caught the soldier and helped him down, shouting for help. You smiled sadly, shaking your head; how did Fury become so blind? Anyway, you weren't — couldn't — let the superchery go any longer;

- “Don’t bother, Fury. It’s not our Steve; ours doesn't have that shade of blue — it’s darker, remember? — and the shield is missing a bump,” you pointed out as you kneeled behind the other Steve.

Fury all but pushed the injured soldier away from him and you caught him in your arms. He was far too injured to represent a threat; the man was dying and you doubted he had wanted to use his last breath to kill. You offered the copy of your boyfriend a smile and cradled him against your chest as he spit blood over your neck.

He didn't have long to live.

- “It’s okay soldier, you can rest now. The battle is over and you did your best,” you told the other Steve, trying to give him comfort. “Your Bucky is waiting for you.”

- “B-Bucky…” The dying man choked and raised his hand, causing Fury to point his gun toward him; you stopped Fury by simply raising your hand. “I—”

- “I know,” You replied, holding his head as you heard Kurt popping behind you.

- “Mein Freund! Maybe you shouldn't be so carefree with them,” Kurt whispered, his arms circling your shoulders and he looked over them to the dying Steve.

You simply looked at Kurt and the blue mutant had the decency to not repeat himself. He knew how you had a soft spot for all of them, how you just couldn't stand there and let them die alone. It wasn't the first — or last time — you would hold one of them as they took their last breath.

Kurt let go of you and kneeled next to the fake Steve. You watched as your friend took his hand and prayed for him; the blond man kept looking at you all that time, his blood soaking your uniform. You took his other hand and squeezed it as you saw life slowly leave his blue eyes and it wasn't long before he became as limp as a ragdoll in your arms. Kurt closed his eyes and you put him down before passing your hand through his hair.

That was the thirtieth Steve Rogers you watched die since Ultimus had begun his invasion.

You heard your Steve before you felt his hands on your shoulders; you had learned to recognize them so quickly. He had a certain way of walking and you wondered if it was intentional. You looked up as Steve kneeled behind you and squeezed your shoulders. His eyes filled with emotions you couldn't identify as he stared at the body of his doppelganger.

- “I am still not used to it,” Steve admitted in a whisper as you were left alone.

Fury was barking orders, asking for the collection of the corpses and Kurt was back at bothering Logan; you could see them in the corner of your eyes.

- “Me neither. Each time I feel like it’s you I am losing, even if I know they are not you. It’s so easy to recognize them, I don’t know how others don't see the differences,” You replied with a sigh, closing your eyes and nuzzling your face in the crook of Steve’s neck.

He was injured, bloody, but far less seriously than his copy. It probably wasn't his blood anyway.

- “That's why you are our Commander; it comes so easily to you recognizing our own. Even Fury has a hard time… even me,” Steve admitted as he rested his chin on top of your head.

- “Funny how I never once saw a single of my copy,” You pointed out only for Steve to pull you closer against his chest.

- “Maybe there is only one you,” He said and you laughed.

With tears in your tired eyes, you let Steve force you back on your feet. You looked around you, taking in the destruction and carnage; thank God you had been able to evacuate the place before the portal had opened. The battlefield was a bloody mess. How none of you had died was a mystery you didn't want to focus on; you didn't have the luxury to lose a single battle after all. It didn't mean your guys weren't injured, but they would heal and be ready for the next battle.

Steve led you away and you soon realized he made sure to avoid any dead bodies left uncollected. You smiled — it didn't reach your eyes — and hooked your arm to his, thanking Steve silently. He too hated their sight, after all; it reminded him of the war. You knew because of all the nightmares he had, even at your side. You both had them.

Funny how it was those same nightmares which had made you grow closer.

You could remember those cold nights walking through empty corridors, trying to chase away their ghosts from your mind only to encounter Steve with the same haunted gaze as yours. Sharing coffee and pastries you often joined in the training room, beating down punching bag after punching bag and sometimes cracking in each other's arms. The first time you saw Steve crying was after a bunch of Bucky Barnes had passed through a portal and you had to kill them; Steve kept begging for forgiveness, crying until he had thrown up. You kept him in your arms until he almost passed out, sharing his pain.

You snapped out your memories as Steve pulled you inside a tent; the scent of disinfectant hit you and you tried to leave the tent, but Steve tightened his grip on your arm. You stared at each other, knowing damn well you weren't getting out.

- “We’re alone and you are hurt, let me take care of you,” Steve said, almost pleading.

- “Not my blood and you need it more than I do,” You replied and hissed as Steve rested his hand above your hip; a bullet had scratched you there, inches away from your guts. “Okay, you win.”

You saw Steve smile, a real smile, as he helped you take off your clothes. You sat on a medical bed only in your underwear, cursing under your breath as Steve cleaned the scratches and the bullet wound. Really, you wanted to bolt outside even if it meant ridiculing yourself; you hated being patched up. Cleaning and taking care of others? Any day! Especially Steve, but yourself? No, thank you!

- “You really are the worst patient ever. How Hank hasn't strapped you to a bed yet is a mystery to me,” Steve chuckled as you flinched away while he tried to stitch you up.

- “He tried, once; I bit him and didn't let go until Jean made me,” You admitted and Steve laughed louder.

This time your smile reached your eyes.

Steve cupped your face in his hands — the scent of disinfectant and blood turned your stomach upside down — and leaned down until your foreheads touched. You closed your eyes, fingers gripping his shredded suit; you felt his way-too-warm skin on your fingers and the blood that soaked it. You pulled on his suit and Steve stepped closer as you slowly dealt with said suit.

It didn't take long for you to undress him and your hands found his waist almost immediately while your eyes took in the bruises and cuts all over his body; you were in a way better shape than him. You didn't have to talk and Steve sat by your side while you took the first aid kit from him.

It felt like an eternity cleaning and patching him up; Steve wasn't careful enough you thought, but you also knew where he came from. There was no changing Steve Rogers neither did you want him to.

You kissed his bandaged shoulder after tying a knot and making sure it wouldn't come loose. Steve passed his fingers on your nape, sending shivers down your spine and you chuckled; he played prude but you knew better. You both froze hearing the sound of footsteps on the gravel and turned your gazes to see Fury peeking inside the tent. He stayed still, eying the both of you before rolling his eye.

- “Dress up you two, we are going home. There’s been another alert; you’ll get all the time to play doctor later,” Fury groaned before leaving.

Steve turned as red as a tomato before grabbing his suit. You on the other hand laughed so hard that your ribs hurt and you lay down on the bed. Steve slapped your side, mumbling something about hurrying and you chuckled. Still, you listened and dressed once more.

You tried to ignore the feeling of the blood sticking back on your skin. Tried to not think about who it belonged to and headed toward the helicopter. Fury stood in front of the opened door, waiting for you and Steve. You wanted to leave your boyfriend behind, order him to rest and heal, but you didn't; Steve wouldn't listen anyway. Captain America wouldn't rest until you did until all threat was gone.

Steve helped you get inside and immediately jumped in next. He sat by your side and pressed yourself against his side; seeking his warmth and comfort.

Fury ignored you, like always and you closed your eyes as he began speaking about the portal. You didn't listen, opting to take a nap instead; Steve would explain it quicker anyway. You smiled as you fell asleep and felt Steve’s arm around your shoulders.

Your Steve, the one you could recognize even surrounded by thousands of his doppelgangers. After all, that one was yours and only yours.

[winteringdream]

016. the match

synopsis : the girls soccer team hasn’t been doing great since the school year started. when nicholas starts taunting you about it you make a bet with him. will the two of you figure your differences out when your soccer team has to play against his?

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a/n: verryy long chapter so i hope you enjoy!

The bleachers are filled with students, lots of familiar faces but also a lot of unfamiliar faces. You glance over to the boys team, they were also scanning the crowd, some occasionally waving when they spot someone they recognise.

“Y/n! Chaehyunnie!” You hear the voices of Ningning and Isa call out. They’re waving bright banners with “Go Girls!” written on them.

Chaehyun and you wave at the girls, and they hold up the banner above their heads.

“Haven’t seen it this crowded since freshman year.” Chaewon tells the team, “Which means we have to win.”

“Ayy come on Chae, it’s not that big of a deal.” Liz laughs, giving her a pat on the shoulder.

“I was trying to be motivational.” Chaewon sighs, “Guess it didn’t work that well.”

The team bursts out in laughter, a few girls telling Chaewon they thought it was very inspiring.

The laughter of the girls causes the boys to look up. Nicholas catches sight of you, one hand on Rei’s shoulder, laughing at your team captain.

“Earth to Nicholas?” Ej calls out, and Nicholas snaps back to reality. The other boys have started warming up somewhere else, he didn’t even notice.

Nicholas can see K and Yuma snickering at him, but he ignores them and quickly jogs over to his team. He needs to get his head in the game, but it is hard to do so when his opponent is his crush.

“Don’t go daydreaming when we’re on the field.” Ni-ki, the center midfielder, comments when Nicholas joins the group circle doing stretches, “Otherwise I won’t pass any balls to you.”

Nicholas turns to Maki, the left wing, who he frequently passes balls to. Maki looks at him with puppy eyes, telepathically pleading for him to pass the ball when playing.

A short whistle sounds from the referee, calling the captains to the center of the field.

When Ej jogs back to the team all eyes are on him. “They take the ball.” He says, earning groans from the team.

“I told you to choose tails.” Taki groans, but he tenses up when he sees Ej glare at him.

Meanwhile Chaewon has also returned to the team. “We take the ball.” Chaewon cheers. “First win of the day, one more to go.”

As the game starts, it is evident that the girls team has improved a lot. Ej was pleasantly surprised by the amount of skill the girls had managed to gain in such a short time.

Nicholas is really trying his best to focus, but the way you play, the way you shout for the ball, the way you play with such passion, it's so attractive to him. He's never felt this way before, but now that he's experiencing it he's sure of it. He likes you.

"Nicho!" He can hear Fuma call out to him, and he snaps back. You had just dribbled past Fuma, and was now heading straight towards Nicholas.

Without hesitation Nicholas starts running towards you, his mind racing on how to steal the ball away from you.

He decides to go for a tackle, but before he knows you're tripping over his feet, falling onto the field. Nicholas doesn't see it, his eyes focused on the ball. Only when he has passed the ball to Ni-ki does he look back.

Nicholas, now kneeling beside you, seems oblivious to the momentary shock. His eyes, wide with realization, darted from the ball back to you, lying there stunned.

A second later, his expression softens, and he quickly reaches down to you with a concerned look on his face.

"I didn’t mean to knock you down like that!" His voice was full of regret as he crouched by your side, his tone soft, almost apologetic. His hand hovered in the air, unsure, like he wasn’t sure if you needed space or help.

You sit up, your body a little heavy because of the collision. The scrape on your arm stung, and your chest felt tight, still recovering from the hit. It wasn't that serious, you realise, as the initial shock of the fall wears off.

"Hey, are you alright?" Nicholas asks, his voice lowered, more careful now. His eyes scan your face, looking for any sign that you were hurt, genuinely worried.

You could see the way he hesitated, like he was holding himself back, unsure whether to reach for you again or to give you a moment. His usual confidence in the game had evaporated, replaced by concern.

"It's fine," You reply, quickly regaining your composure as you lift yourself off the grass. You pat him on the back, telling him not to worry. And before he knows it you're running off towards Rei, who was busy attacking again.

As the game progresses it is clear the boys team is stronger. But for some reason, it didn't bother you that much anymore. It's the first time you're having fun, and the other girls seem to agree.

So, when the whistle signals the end of the game, you, along with Haerin sit down on the ground, exhausted.

"Wasn't this fun?" You pant, looking at the equally exhausted girl next to you. She nods, too tired to process everything.

"There's something even more fun waiting for you." She eventually says in a quiet tone. You almost don't catch it, but as you follow her gaze you realise who she's talking about.

You'd almost forgotten it. The bet.

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