#i should give will a sleeve tatto

[thesolaireslawyer]

Nose was itchy, went to rub it nearly cried

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - one (j.yh)

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

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

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

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 17.9k

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

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

“Fuck,” You breathe, “hey,” 

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

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

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

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I guess.” 

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

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

“Thank you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” He checks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?” He tilts his face up to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” He hums and stays relaxed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” He laughs, “of course, yeah,” 

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

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

The tattoo on your chest feels warm beneath your blouse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s yours. 

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

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

“You didn’t?” His hand falls. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head, “No,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A soulmate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His shoulders relax just a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” You assure him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good,” You nod, “don’t worry,” 

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

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

“Am I good?” Yunho checks. 

Your eyes flick over him fast, “Yep,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He really is yours. 

It turns out that later means much later. 

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

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

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

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

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

A soft knock at the door makes your stomach lurch. 

You’re frozen. 

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

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

“I waited,” You manage. 

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

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

He nods, “Come to my room?” 

“Are you sure?” Your eyes widen. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the heavy door shuts behind you, you sigh. 

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

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

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

“It feels pretty real,” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You what?” Your eyebrows raise. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Completely,” He nods, “did yours?” 

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

“Does it feel,” He starts.

“Warm?” 

“Yes,” He nods, “and tender?” 

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

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

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

“You want to see it?” He surmises. 

“Only if you’re comfortable,” 

His lips quirk, “I’m comfortable,”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

He shakes his head, “Not before today,” 

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

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

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

“You feel that?” He asks, “Right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it always feel like that?” 

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

He smiles, “Your sister found her soulmate?” 

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

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

“Younger,” You say.  

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

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

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

Your heart quickens and you nod. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Your voice is thready. 

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

“Yes,” You agree, painfully quickly. 

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

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

You wonder what more will feel like. 

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

You nod. 

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

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

“You can feel that?” 

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

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

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

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

“Feel alright?” He murmurs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He feels so right, so essential under your touch. 

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

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

“Yunho,” You shiver. 

“Cold?” He gravitates a little closer. 

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

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

His lips are on yours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to slow down,” He manages. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Overwhelming,” You nod, exhaling softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You straighten up again, finding his eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your tight hands uncurl. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s yours. 

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

“This is real,” You murmur. 

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

“You’re mine,” 

“Yes,” He grins. 

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

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

“Together,” You nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is nice,” You smile. 

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

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

“It is,”

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

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

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

 “I had no idea,” 

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” You perk up, “Who?” 

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

You sigh, letting his softness calm you again. 

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

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

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

That wakes you up. 

Your eyebrows raise, “Stay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With me?” His eyebrows raise. 

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

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

“It is what it is,” 

“Are your parents soulmates?” He asks softly. 

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

You watch his eyes widen in surprise. 

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

“For status?” He surmises. 

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

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

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

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

“It could,” 

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

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

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

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

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

Your smile at his warm expression. 

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

Your throat constricts, tears threatening for a moment. 

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

“Very,”

“I’d like to meet her,” He smiles. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

“She’s funny,” He smirks. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Your eyes feel heavy. 

“Yeah,” He kisses your forehead. 

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

“Mhm,” He yawns too, “me too, jagi,” 

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

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

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

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

Nuzzled against his tattoo, you drift.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Naive is what it is,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long?” Seonghwa manages. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Yunho laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mouth feels dry. 

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

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

You both wait. 

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

Yunho nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” Yunho curses. 

You both slept straight through Yunho’s alarm. 

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

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

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

Did you already get up and get ready?

Your work bag is still here…

Not funny, girl, where are you?

Did you make it back last night? 

Can you answer me?? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seonghwa huffs a laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With some guy?” She stands. 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” You say again. 

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

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

“Iseul,” Your cheeks heat. 

She points at you, “I’m right!” 

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

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

“I can’t,” You press, “leave it,” 

“Why are you being so weird?” 

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

“I’m not letting this go,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” 

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

“Fine,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You miss him. 

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

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

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

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

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

So you’re as awake as I am? 

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

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

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

Nope - You tease back. 

Was she upset? - He asks. 

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

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

How was Seonghwa? - You tap out. 

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

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

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

That’s good - You send back. 

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

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

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

Why’s that? - You tease him. 

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

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

So who did she guess? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exactly - You reply. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your thighs press together - Yunho?

Yes, jagi?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you have headphones? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want me? - You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

I was tossing and turning. 

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

You send him another emoji, the blushing face. 

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

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

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

Wearing? 

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

I asked you first.

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

A heavy sigh passes through your lips. 

“And you?” 

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

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

Me too 

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

Me either - You confess. 

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

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

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

You message him one last thought - What about you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” You murmur in a whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s good, that’s so good,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Uh-huh,” You manage. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” He murmurs, “you okay?” 

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

He hums, a quiet, lazy laugh, “Ah,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, baby?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” 

“Are your headphones still in?” He asks

“No, but I can switch back,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[gabessquishytum]

Hot Chef! Hob + kid fic prompt

Dream has food issues okay, and for this and number of other reasons, including that he now has full time custody of Orpheus and can't just forget meals or feed his son soy sauce packets 🤷🏽‍♀️, Dream (well his sister) hires a home chef.

Now there will be food in the house, that Dream learns to warm up and Orpheus has vegetables to eat. What Dream wasn't expecting was a gorgeous man, covered in tattoos that come with [fun] stories, who's great with Orpheus. Many days pass where Dream breaks from writing to find Hob and Orpheus making dessert together.

Dream is smitten.

I ABSOLUTELY love this, we need more chef Hob stuff!!! He's so perfect. My preference is for Hob cooking Indian food a lot, but honestly I just love the whole idea of him in the kitchen,,, sleeves rolled up,,, tattoes on display,,,

Hob is great. Normally Dream can handle breakfast, it's the one meal he has a reasonable grasp on (pour cereal, pour milk, burn toast, make more toast, etc). But at weekends Hob comes in to do a special cooked breakfast like pancakes, omelette, vegetable umpa, oats idli (which is Dream’s new favourite thing, its the only thing he can stomach in the morning and it fills him up properly). Hob is fun to have around and it really feels like a family breakfast, which is great for Orpheus. He's really coming out of his shell and it makes Dream a little misty eyed.

Most of what Hob makes is cooked and frozen to be heated up later, but he insists on doing fresh meals occasionally. Dream is convinced that Hob just wants to make sure that he eats, and he's not as annoyed by that as he probably should be.

"Good food is my love language." Hob explains with a shy smile. "It makes me happy to see people eat."

And Dream tries to convince himself that Hob is talking about Orpheus, there, but... he's not sure. Sometimes Hob gives him steamy looks across the kitchen that Dream wants to melt right into.

Maybe he should ask Hob to make a romantic candlelit dinner for the two of them. Dream still has a fridgeload of issues, but he's smart enough to know that if he doesn't snap Hob up for himself soon, someone else is going to. A man with biceps like that who can cook?? Dream needs to put a ring on it, asap. If Hob will have him...

(He will.)

[newbieineverything]

Platonic Soulmates AU pt3

Prev || Next

Two months after the New Year, the Moby Deck was moored on one of the captain’s favourite spots for relaxing in an effort to keep Ace with them for more than two days.

Who could have known that the whitebeards were so soft?

Deuce thought gratefully while trying to find Ace, he knows that this time he wouldn’t be in the crowd.

He’s truly grateful that Oyaji saw how special Ace is and that the crew was able to convince him to join. 

The previous months were the happiest he has seen Ace look. And it helps that with Whitebeard it’s the safest Ace could be.

And with Ace’s eighteenth birthday, he thought it will only be better for his friend, however, he immediately isolated himself and started going on missions far from the Moby with no rhyme or reason.

He thought maybe he didn’t get Luffy as a soulmate or maybe life decided that Ace didn’t suffer enough and gave him no soulmate. 

He wanted to give him some time to process it, If Ace went to this degree to get privacy to process it so be it, but he wasn’t getting better and he couldn’t corner him for a while but now is finally his chance to get through to him.

Finally, he found him on nearly the other side of the island in a secluded place.

“It has been hard to get a hold of you lately captain we’ve been worried.”

"...Sorry for worrying you."

“Alright, talk to me.” He started, sitting down next to him. “You know the deal, I listen, you talk and if it can be solved I'll help.”

“My Brother hates me” Ace stated as if it was a fact and not the most absurd thing he could say.

“What? Ace- No” Deuce chuckled uneasily, the fuck happened!? “Luffy could never hate you!”

“It’s not Luffy” 

What? Does he mean from the crew, what happene- 

“It’s Sabo.”

“...Ace- Sabo is-” He faltered, “You said he’s dead.”

“Yeah, I said-” He chuckled sorrowfully, a sound that should never ever be from Ace. 

“I thought so,”  His hand shook slightly as he pushed his sleeve up to show his tattoo. “But his mark turned blue.”

“His S turned blue, and I can’t think of anything else that’d make him fake his death and not tell me- tell us for Eight years that he was alive except that he hates me.” 

His hands were shaking when Deuce took it in his, worrying that he would hurt himself from how hard he was gripping his tatto.

“Ace, don’t you think you’re jumping to conclusions? There could be another reason it doesn’t have to be hating you!”

“What other reason could be?” He whispered. “It has been Eight years Deuce, It can’t be protecting us because no one on Dawn knows he's alive! He has been declared dead by his family and other than them no one would hide it from us!”

“...Maybe he needed to make everyone else think he’s dead? And- and when it’d be safe he’d tell you?” It was a weak idea and he knows it but Deuce can’t believe that someone who grew up with Ace could do that to him!

“They already declared him dead.” Ace’s voice was monotone as if trying to distance himself from what he was saying, “His family, the town, the kingdom everyone knew he was the one on the boat and his family tried to bury it. So there’s no one to protect us from.”

Deuce wants to cut in, but he knows the best he can do now is to give him a listening ear and support first and help second.

“It was my fault from the start.” Tears started falling and Ace didn’t bother wiping away.

“I thought I knew better, I thought if he was with his family he would be safe, he would be cared for, they could give him what I can’t, that sooner or later he would hate what became of his life and wish for his old one.”

“I let that trash influence me, I let my doubt and insecurities turn me against my brother, I decided not to go and save him, I was the reason he was alone.”

“So Why wouldn’t he hate me?”

“Ace-”

“And I know!” He heaved, “I know I deserve his hate!”

“But why!?, Why couldn’t he tell Luffy?!”

“Why couldn’t he just tell us he was alive and then leave? It was my fault! Not Luffy’s, Not Dadan’s or Makino or Gramp!”

“I could have lived with his hate I just wanted him to live.”

“Thinking that he was dead, living without him, I have felt less, like there’s this part of me- of my soul that died with him”

“And I-” He gulped, looking as if he was pained to admit what he’ll say next, “and I want know did he never, once in those years feel like that? That no matter what he does, that gap in his life could never be filled.”

“Did he ever turn around expecting me to be there? Did he ever feel that his back is unprotected because I wasn’t there?”

“Do I even have the right to wish that my absence from his life affected him as much as it did me?”

“I get why he wouldn’t tell me” He whispered, lowering his hat to cover his face, “but why, why would he not tell Luffy?”

Deuce squeezed Ace’s hand wanting- no, needing him to focus on what he’ll say and not on whatever is going on in his brain.

“Ace you didn’t deserve this,” He started slowly. “You were a kid who life loved to screw with, who did the best he can for those who loved, and if somehow your brother really blames you for anything then know he’s wrong” 

Ace’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth no doubt to object and defend his brother.

“No hear me out, whatever happened you were ten, you had no control over any of it, you’re a good person, a great captain, who’s loyal to his family and a great brother and I doubt anyone who knew you for more than a week could hate you, there must be another reason, alright?”

A skeptical hum is all he got and he knows it’s the most he can get now.

Right now the best they could do is finding Sabo. The easiest way would be waiting for his birthday, surely seeing the mark will make him come to Ace or at least make himself easy to find. 

“Alright, you know when his eighteenth birthday is? If it’s soon we shoul-”

“NO!” Ace yelled, grabbing his shoulders “No, I have to find him before he gets his marks!” 

“What! why?”

“Because I need the truth from him before he discovers that he’s stuck with me and decides to sacrifice his freedom for me!”

“Ace-”

“Deuce, he knows me, I know him, even if he hates me Sabo is the kindest person to live, if he discovers that he’s soulbonded to me, he’d force himself to forgive me or reconnect or something!”

“This is why I have to find him before the next month, I need the truth and not whatever crap he would pull because he’s being kind!”

This is why he took missions non-stop? To find Sabo? Not because he was guilty?

Who’s he kidding it’s Ace it’s definitely both.

“Alright alright we will do it your way, we will find him before your birthday, BUT we need help you spent two months already randomly searching now we need an expert.”

“...Who is it Haruta?”

“No, Your Grandfather, hear me out, He’s a high-ranking marine He must have more connections to the civilian side than us, If your brother was a pirate we would have seen his bounty so he must be a civilian and I doubt that Whitebeard’s network would be focused on the civilian side let alone outside of the Grand Line, your Grandfather is our best shot at this”

“...You’re right.” Thankfully he looked convinced hopefully Garp would be able to help. 

“and his connection with the revs could be useful too.”

Having found something to focus on other than his self-deprecating thoughts Ace looks better already, hopefully, Deuce’s faith in his brother is rewarded or he will make sure that Sabo won’t have a peaceful life ever again.

Seas what would his captain do without me? Can't believe he forgot such an important-

“DID YOU SAY THE REVS!?” 

[the-fiction-witch]

Hi Beth

TV SHOW THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE BENNY X READER  RATING: FLIRTY AF 

I grabbed my bag from the back of the taxi, I paid him and headed down to the little dirty stairwell, I tried my best not to focus on the smell and the dirt on the walls. I went down to the door knocking on the old metal door. I waited a moment noticing the light above the door flickering back and forth I heard the door unlock and open sharply revealing an odd-looking been watts, he stood behind his door, he had bare feet, his tight blue jeans without his belt his button on his jeans undone, his blue floral kimono around him but not sitting quiet right as if he had slipped it on a second ago, his hair a little messy even more so then benny's usually was

"Hi beth!" He smiled fixing his hair "I uhh I didn't know you were coming to new york?" he says giving me a little;e one-arm hug and a cheek kiss

"I'm heading to France for a tournament and to see Clio. had a day spare so thought I'd come up and see you" I explained as he let me into his apartment I noticed the moment I got in I saw something was up. his apartment always looked like some little basement with a bed and chess boards but... there was food in the fridge, there was a clear table, there was laundry on, the place was clean and tidy, there was a fucking vase of flowers on the dining table a few candles going scented candles! the whole place smelt like lavender and lemons he fixed his hair looking a little nervous

"I uhh I wish you'd phoned."

"Why? busy benny?"

"Uuuhh well... kinda," he says sheepishly

"With what?" I asked putting my bag down looking around the place, other than the candles there was little light on, other than what was on in the bedroom the light coming through the window and glass door. I looked at him noticing how sheepish he looked and I noticed something by his shoulder "What's that on your neck benny?"

"Nothing!" he yelped clamping his hand over the marks on his neck "Just uhhhh...  bug bite"

"looks like something bit you" I laughed "whats going on benny?"

"Nothing..."

"Benny?" I heard a voice call I jumped a little and glanced at him he seemed to try not to look at me rubbing the back of his neck

I know the voice came from the bedroom so I went over towards the door going to open it

"Uhhh beth maybe you should uhh go sit down" he says

"why? something you wanna hide from me benny?"

"nothing, nothing its just you know... maybe we should play some chess" He says

"open the door benny" I smirked pushing him away a little and opening the door to his bedroom and there I stopped short, there was a woman in his bed. a very beautiful naked woman sat against the wall with the covers wrapped around her snuggly a compact in her hand fixing her blood red lipstick, her hair a mess a little.

"Hi" she smiled "aren't you going to introdue me?"

"Uhh yeah. honey this is Beth harmon" he said

"Hi beth" she smiled to me

"Beth this is... well"

she rolled her eyes and got up from the bed tucking the covers around her arm she stepped over to me taking my hand giving it a gentle kiss making eye contact with me "Y/n watts" she smiled "I would on your cheek but... my mouths been busy" she winked "I'll go and get a layer or two on" she smuiled giving benny a kiss before she walked off to the bedroom the covers not covering her from behind at all exposing her back and ass a large back tatto brightly inked, benny was kinda staring at her as she walked away biting his mouth in that little way he always doesn when he wants to fuck something.

"Watts?" I asked glaring at him a little "I really hope that isn't your sister"

"No!... its a very long and complicated story"

"I think we got time" I smirked

"Fine" He sighed going and making some coffee as I took a seat at the dinner table "it was vegas last year. the one you didn't show to if you recall"

"Yeah what about it?"

"I met y/n. one thing lead to another and we ended up in her hotel room" he said sitting at the table too bringing me coffee

"did you know?"

"yes. and the next day we met up again in the bar and we uhh got a few drinks and all. and next morning. we where married. drunken wedding in vegas"

"So... whats going on now?"

"we decied to stay married. so she lives here now. it uhhh you came on a bad day it uhhh its our uhh Night" he explained

"What kind of night?" I asked not sure if I really wanted to know the answer

"Fantasy night" Y/n smiled as she returned from the bathroom in a skin tight black dress

"Who's where you doing?" I asked and benny just sipped his coffee sheepishly

"It was bennys turn this week" she smiled coming and taking her own coffee "so we where playing prisoner" she smirked petting bennys hair

"where you?" I smirked "who was the prisoner?" I asked and insantly benny m oved his kimono sleaves down I was curious why and y/n giggled putting her coffee down standing behind him resting hger chin on his head grabbing both his arms holding them put the sleeves back to reveal the two marks from rope on his wrists

"Guess who" she giggled

"I will make a note. don't visit on thursdays"

"Or tuesdays" He added

"Why?" I asked

"Tuesdays toy night" she winked going back to her coffee "But don't worry beth just a heasds up us all. or of course if you wanted to join in" she winked before going to get something else from the kitchen

"is she?"

"Bi yes. its fucking hot as shit" he answered "shes great my cute sexy little wifey."

"thank you my sweet sexy husband" she cooed back

"you two are cute" I laughed

"aww thanks beth. maybe we'll have you over one night you two can play some chess and then you can me can tie him up and spank his skinny ass" she smirked

"I like your wife" I smirked

"thats just what I was afraid of" he sighed "I knew you two would get along. just no conspiring you two"

"No promises" I smirked

"Not a single promise benny my darling"

"Fine" he sighed

"Wanna hear embrassing stories I'vesd leanrt since being mrs watts?" she whispered to me

"Hell yeah!" I smiled the tweo of us both boolting into the bedroom

"NO! girls! come on!" he complained

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Υεια σας, Θείτσα! Out of curiosity, what do people in Greece generally think of tattoos? I’m planning to travel there basically as soon as it’s safe, and I have some pretty noticeable tattoos that are hard to cover up. They’re not really huge, but they are in places that are easy to notice (I have one on each wrist and some on my legs). Should I expect any particular reactions from Green people when they see my ink?

Γεια σου! 💙 You don't have to use the politeness/formal plural when you've already called me auntie, doesn't make much sense xD (But it is the most polite greeting my aunty self has received 😁)

I think it depends on the tattoo. If one's tattoos are small and cute like a dove or a "love" sign (generalization :P) they don't receive weird reactions about it. They will most likely ask you what it's written or depicted on your skin. So, for your wrist tattoos I'd say you won't have any trouble. That's the "acceptable" form of tattoo here, although there might be some older and/or conservative people who will wrinkle their nose or might think the decision to get small tattoos as silly.

But if the tattoos are sleeves or cover the whole calf, then the reactions will be a bit different, toward the negative side. Half of Greece thinks such big areas of tattoos are unprofessional and even show a lowly and wild character. So they can even be perceived as threatening, even if the designs are just too many bunnies because it's just the "too much ink" people see first. Granted, it's mostly narrow-minded and people over 50 who think that, but that's half our population! 😂 So, as I see it, it's a 50-50 someone judges you negatively at first sight because of them. The other 50% thinks they are cool as hell!

People with big tattooed areas in hands and legs don't usually cover them because the situation is not that tragic. They are aware of how they are perceived but that hasn't changed their daily life much, and they haven't been made to feel ashamed or regret their decision to get tattoed to this extent.

It's expected that in Athens or Thessaloniki the public won't stare or judge that much, but if you go to the rest of Greece (aka towns) they probably will. An older aunty or a yaya might ve a bit shocked and not take you very seriously (because of the stereotypes I mentioned). But workers in different spaces, no matter their age, tend not to be annoying about it.

If you are polite and give to the prejudiced a warm smile and good attitude, chances are you will break some of their stereotypes and you wont receive negative reactions, except maybe a phrase like "tsk tsk tsk you're such a good girl, why do you have so many tattoos?" (Or they just might think of it and spare you the commentary :P)

*If anyone else lives in Greece and has different experiences please add to this post

[letspurpletogether]

The Bodyguard || (03)

↳ Summary: Your father is the Don, so you’ve pretty much had enemies your whole life. But when he fails to protect you like he should, you realize maybe it’s time for you to take the matters into your own hands and gather your own men. Perhaps, starting with that tattoed fellow over there with the bad attitude.

⇢ Pairings: bodyguard!Jeongguk x female!reader.

⇢ Warnings: explicit language, mafia au, dark subthemes, gratuitous sexual tension, tattoed!jungkook, future smut, gangster au.

⇢ Word count: 3.2K

[...]

“Is this how I should dress?”, the unconvinced tone in Jeongguk’s voice threatens to shatter your concentrated face as your hand skims across his shoulders to fix the suit collar. As promised you took him suit shopping that day. He’s having a little trouble getting used to the three piece suit you made him try-on. “Maybe the waistcoat is a bit much?”, he mutters to himself, but loud enough for you to hear and chuckle. The rest of the black suit, however, fits him like a glove. He stares at himself in the full-size triple mirror at the tailor’s shop, fixing the buttons on the vest.

With his fringe covering his forehead and part of his eyebrows, he looks more like a confused teenager in his way to prom, than an actual bodyguard. You wonder if this is the same man that was ready to hurt you on Jimin’s command.

“We can drop the waistcoat”, you say, brushing a speck of dust from the sleeve. Jeongguk grins relieved and is quickly is being removing the jacket to get rid of the seemingly uncomfortable vest. “And to answer your other question... Yes, you need to look like you’re actually a bodyguard to convince my father’s people you can be trusted”

With the waistcoat out of the way, you can admire better the way the buttons on his white shirt strain to hold his muscles back. You have a half mind to tell the clerk to go and fetch him a bigger size, but decide not to in the end. If he hasn’t complained, why would you? Some eye-candy never hurt anybody.

“We have to do something with that hair too”, you inform. Jeongguk turns to you, halfway through the process of sliding the jacket on again. He brings a hand to his messy hair and pats the fringe.

“Why? What’s wrong with my hair?”, he even manages to sound bashful. Honestly, where the hell did the gangster who threaten to cut your head off go? You recall he said he didn’t mean any of that, that it was Jimin who told him what to do just to scare you. But you still remember the look in his eyes, dark and heavy. His gaze could’ve easily pierce through your skin if it had been possible. Was all that an act as well?

“I can’t have people thinking I hired a high-schooler as my head of security”, you simply reply without looking at him. It takes an effort not to keep dwelling on Jeongguk’s duality and what it could mean. “We don’t have to cut it, but I’ll need you to style it differently”

“Oh, okay...”

“Also, lose the silver loops”, you gesture towards the cheap jewelry on his ears. Jeongguk frowns, you can tell he doesn’t like that as his hands come to hide the earrings like they are his most valuable possession. Although... come to think of it, maybe they are.

“Why?”, he asks, wryly.

“Because...”, you take a step closer to him, and sway his hands away. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “it’s diamonds or nothing, baby”

And this time you are sure you are not imagining he blush that creeps up his face when you give him a playful wink.

[...]

You leave the tailor shop several hours later with a whole set of suits following Jeongguk’s tastes and your specifications. After that, you stop at a high end cafe on the way to grab something quick for lunch. You notice the way Jeongguk’s eyes shine with anticipation for a moment when you tell him he can have whatever he wants, just to be replaced by a more controlled expression. “Isn’t this place too expensive?”, he then asks, his tone is low, reserved. “I don’t even see prices in the menu”.

You roll your eyes and flip a page of your menu over. “I’m buying, darling. Don’t sweat it”.

“Oh... okay...”. He replies almost in a whisper and you take a peak at him from behind your menu. He’s shrunken himself in his seat, one hand playing nervously with his new diamond earrings. For someone his size, he really knows how to make himself look small.

It’s at that moment when the waiter decides to make an appearance, and ask for your order.

“I’ll just have a iced tea, thank you”, Jeongguk smiles with his lips tightened. You arch an eyebrow but decide to leave it like that for now. Why was this boy so difficult to spoil?, you keep on wonder when he refuses to take a bite out of your chocolate cake even though he was practically drooling at the sight of it. He probably accepted the suits and the earrings because it was all part of the job. But when it comes to things he wants, he seems to restrain himself, you make a mental note to try again with something else later.

After getting the check, you and your new bodyguard walk back to the car.

“Where are we going?”, Jeongguk asks right before opening the car door for you. Is a task that your driver Mr. Song usually does, but throughout the day, Jeongguk has taken the liberty to step out first and do it for you. Not that you are complaining, and certainly Mr. Song isn’t either. He’s an old man, driving you around all day must be exhausting as it is so it’s only fair the youth steps up.

“Get in the back with me”, you tell Jeongguk as he motions to secure the door. He hesitates for a moment, eyer darting uncomfortable between you and the door. He’s probably wondering why are you asking him that now when in earlier rides you always make him sit next to Mr. Song.

He doesn’t question you out loud, though. He just gets in and closes the door after him.

Mr. Song starts the engine and you leave the cafe behind.

You can see Jeongguk futile attempts to fix his suit in that position through the corner of your eye. Since he didn’t unbuttoned the jacket before sitting down, the fabric is all crumpled around his middle and he doesn’t seem to understand what the problem is.

“Here, let me”, you lean forward and undo the silver button. “You have to do this every time you sit down, and button it again after standing up. Got it?”

“Yeah...”, he adverts his gaze from yours, and scratches his forehead. Is he embarrassed or upset? You can’t really tell with scarce light inside the car. “Sorry, I will”.

“Where next, Miss?”, Mr. Song’s question drags your attention back to reality. You’ve failed to provide direction to your chauffeur and now you’ve been driving in circles around the boulevard.

“Take us downtown, Mr. Song.”, you reply, eyeing Jeongguk. He looks back at you with sheer curiosity. “I’d like to pay a visit to an old friend”

“Hangsang, Miss?”

You smirk.

“Hangsang, Mr. Song”

[...]

It’s two in the afternoon when the car stops in front of the famous and prestigious Hangsang Club. It’s facade is arranged to look like a futuristic take to an old temple, with neon purple, electric blue and deep black instead of the traditional red and gold. Atop the main door there’s a dragon sculpture with led-embedded scales that glow purple at night. At this hour of the day, though, the sunlight takes away all the magic of it.

You step out of the car and stride to the main door. Jungkook follows close behind, but you are soon stopped by a bouncer when your new bodyguard is about to push open the black gates for you.

“Sorry, doll face. We’re not open yet”, he says and you can’t help but regard him with exasperation. He must be one of the new guys the new management hired, you guess.

“Listen...” you uncover your cleavage to show the gold necklace around your neck. It’s a small medallion, with a fleur-de-lis engraved and three topaz at the very center, your family’s symbol- well, your father’s symbol technically speaking. You refused to have the whole thing tattooed on you like some slaver’s mark. The first time your father suggested it, the necklace felt no less than a property tag, but at least you could take it off whenever you wanted. Nonetheless, it proved useful at times like this, when you wanted people to know who you were so they leave you alone. “If you want to keep this job, doll-face, you better memorize this face”, you simply say and gesture Jungkook to open the door for you.

The bouncer takes a moment to focus on the necklace instead of your boobs, but when he does he can’t hide the panic in his eyes. He lowers his head and for a second you really thinks he is going to bow down to you.

You fix your hair and jacket, and walk past him into the club.

“Listen, Jungkook...”, you stop when the door closes behind you. You are standing in a dark entryway, a cristal chandelier hangs above your head casting a dim red light. The walls surrounding the room are painted a mate black, contrasting with the marble on the floor. Right ahead the room stretches in a narrow hallway that ends in velvet curtain. “I’m going to need you to stay here while I go in”.

“What? Why?” His protest takes you by surprise. Does he actually care? Is he taking his job seriously?Or is he just very good at pretending? Either way, you don’t want him anywhere near Hoseok. It’s not that you don’t trust him- well, you don’t; its really you don’t want Jeongguk to find himself in a dangerous position ahead of time.

“Why what?”

“What if there’s- Uh...” he stops mid-sentence and takes a step back. You hadn’t realized he was standing so close to you, and it raises a red flag inside your head the fact that it doesn’t bother you at all. You hear him clear his throat. “If you need anything... I don’t know. I don’t like this place”

You pat his shoulder. Again, that hint of pure innocence in his doe-like eyes that feels too good to be true. How can a thug manages to look so harmless when you’ve seen the voracious darkness in those same eyes before? This boy is like a walking contradiction you are yet to understand.

“I’ll scream if I’m in danger. Make sure you hear me”, you half joke, and continue towards the velvet curtain. It’s best if you don’t dwell too much in Jeongguk’s complicated personality. He’s not your friend, he’ll never be. He’s not even your real employee... He’s your stepbrother hired assassin, whose sole purpose is to kill your father. You know you mustn’t forget that.

[...]

“What are you doing here, y/n?”, Is the greeting that welcomes you the moment you walk through those curtains. You can recognize that voice anywhere, he’s sitting at the bar, his back to you but you find his gaze through the mirrored walls covering the licor shelves.

The main space is mostly empty. Black chairs arranged upside down on the tables, all pushed together at the far right corner to make room for the unplugged polisher machine. The air is slightly tainted with the smell of bleach and something metallic.

You’ve lived long enough with your father to understand what that smell means and you don’t want to ask.

“How did you know it was me?”

You hear him chuckle before he turns around on his high chair. Jung Hoseok always looks good. Fitted black suit, dark hair brushed back in and those gold brimmed glasses he pretend to need just for the aesthetic. He leans back on his elbows and looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you not aware of the commotion you’ve caused?”, he says, and you notice the martini glass on his hand. He takes a sip and look at you again. “Seriously, y/n. You had to go to Jimin?”

You don’t want to have this conversation with him right now, so you opt for ignoring the question. Instead you make your way to the bar and sit right next to him.

“I thought you’d be happier to see me”, you attempt to take his drink but he’s faster and pulls away, giving you a reprimanding look.

“Sorry if I don’t fancy trouble itself arriving at my door step”, he places the glass out of your reach and sighs. “What do you want”

“I though we were friends”

“We are. But I also work for your father, darling. And you just fucked up real bad”

“I just want information, Hobi. Nothing else”,

“What kind of information?”

“About the Jade Warriors”, you ask. A silent chuckle falls from his lips, and he just shrugs in a way that’s trying to tell you he doesn’t know anything. But of course, that’s a lie. He always knows more that he tells. You’d have to be more direct and gauge his reaction. “I know they’re gone. I also know my father ordered their disappearance”.

He clicks his tongue. “You know I can’t really discuss that with you”

“How long have we known each other, Hobi?”

“Since you were little”

“Since we were little”, you correct him. But Hoseok shakes his head in response. “Come on, you said we were friends”, you insist a little more. “I’m asking out of curiosity, as a friend. I won’t tell if you don’t. Please...” Hoseok sighs in a mixture of annoyance and surrender.

“It is all history now, y’know?” he shrugs again, but this time an uneasy hand runs through his hair. “It happened like twenty years ago, your father hired the Warriors for special deliveries every once in a while. But the leader got greedy, and stole some of the cargo. When the boss found out, he wasn’t pleased...”

“So he killed them?”

“I don’t know the details...”, he makes a pause, and takes a look behind his back. There’s no one else in the club, at least no one else that you can see. Hoseok leans closer to you. The next thing he says comes out more like a whisper. “Just that yes, he gave the order, and... well, my father delivered. Like he always does”

“And he killed all of the Jade Warriors?”

“I suppose so”.

“Even the children?”

Hoseok grimaces. “Of course not. There were no children in the Warriors, not that is above my father to kill the innocent children, but- you get the idea.”

No children? Hoseok says it was twenty years ago, for a child to be able to remember what happened he must’ve been over five or something, and that would mean he’d have to be in his mid twenties now. You recall Jeongguk doesn’t look much older than you. Could it be that he has an amazing memory and was able to remember things from when he was but a baby... or the other less satisfying option would be that he plain lied to you about his motives.

“What is going on, y/n?”, Hoseok’s voice breaks your inner monologue and you try hard to maintain a composed face.

“Sheer curiosity, it’s all”.

“Curiosity killed the cat”

“Yeah... but satisfaction brought it back”

“You don’t have nine lives, y/n-ah”, Hoseok regards you for a moment and then shakes his head. “Whatever it is your are getting yourself into, don’t. Gangs are bad news, and everyone knows who you are in this town. That’s why your dad stopped working with gangs a long time ago”

“Right. And the White Tigers are...?”

“That’s different”, Hoseok shakes his head. He stands up and makes his way around the bar to set at the bartender’s station. “We are family ever since my father married your aunt”, He grabs a bottle of bourbon from the shelves and two glasses, he sets them in from of you and pours two shots. “It’s now work if it’s a family business.”

“I suppose you are right”

“So... “, Hoseok pushes one shot glass closer to you and takes for himself the other one. “Have you met him?”

“Who?”. A sly smile appears in his face as he brings the shot glass to his lips and drinks it all down in one motion. You hesitate at first, but it’s past midday anyway and you follow his lead.

“Well, your future husband, of course”.

An annoyed sigh leaves your lips, the burning sensation down your throat still there. “Not yet, I don’t even know which of the three I am marrying. I just hope I don’t have to find out walking down the isle”.

Hoseok chuckles and pours you two another round. “There’s this high-society party happening at Wangto this Saturday night, you know... The Kims are on he guests list I bet you can get Hyuna to squeeze us in”.

“Maybe...”, you smirk, very well aware of where this is going. “Is a Mr. Min Yoongi on the list as well?”

“You know me, darling”

“Fine. I’ll talk to her, see what I can do”.

“That’s my girl”

(c) 2019-2020 letspurpletogether

[giogama08]

Bokuto Koutarou, Soulmate Au

I love this himbo so much. I tried to make this fic a little different and get inspired from here (changing it a little), sorry but I’m just a hopeless romantic. Hope u like it! and as always sorry for my English.

In a world where everyone was destined to meet their “other half” by just looking at their wrist could be what some called “Practical”. After all, everyone has their soulmate’s name tattoed on their wrist. You just have to find the owner of that name and you would have your happily ever after. Sounds easy, right? Well, not for you. You don’t believe in soulmates. Even if destiny has already selected someone that’s supposed to be “perfect for you”, you don’t trust on that kind of luck.

You hate so much when people tried to see what name you have tattoed. “Oh, I don’t know anyone with that name but I know a guy who knows everyone in town” people always said. “If I needed a significant other, I would find it myself, thank you” you normally answered. You were exhausted to the point where even started to use bracelets or long sleeves to cover your wrist so people could stop staring at the name printed on your skin.

One day, a heatwave was stroking the city so using long sleeves or any other accessory was kinda suffocating. In order to hide your tattoo, you covered it with makeup. It was a little exaggerated (you thought) but really didn’t want to deal with anyone about the matter.

While you were out, walking through a mall, you spot a sports store. ‘I need a new pair of running sneakers’ you thought before entering. It seemed that the AC of the place was broken since it felt like a sauna inside. You moved as fast as you could, trying to choose a pair between the endless selection of shoes. It didn't pass 10 minutes yet before you decided that the heat was just unbearable. 

“Forget it! I don’t need them that bad” you said to yourself, as you were already rushing to the exit. Before you put a step outside, someone grabbed you by your arm.

“Hey! Wait! That’s my name!” Said the person who stopped you. You didn’t have time to look at the said person. As soon as you heard those words your attention immediately flew to your wrist. ‘Darn’ You thought. Because of the heat, your sweat erased part of the makeup and made the tattoo visible enough. You cursed the makeup brand mentally.

You stared in frustration as to how the mark started to gradually vanish. When it was gone, you turned to face the person. Your heart skipped a beat. He was definitely not what you expected to see. He was tall, strong, and handsome. How many people have the luck to say that their soulmate was that good-looking?

He showed you the brightest smile you have ever seen, taking your breath away.

“Nice to meet you, (Y/n). I’m Bokuto Koutarou... but I guess you already know that so forget that I said that” He said rubbing his neck bashfully. 

You took a few breaths before speaking (it was kinda difficult to concentrate with him staring so intense at you). 

“Nice you meet you, Bokuto-san, I guess... Don’t take me wrong but I don’t really believe in soulmates. I think is just a psychosomatic phenomenon, because how does it even work? someone decides it or is it just random? I consider that it works because it affects people at a psychological level...”

“You’re saying a really complicated thing” He interrupted you. “But I think I got your idea. Basically, you're saying that ‘soulmate’ is not the same as ‘falling in love’, right? ”

“Well... In a simple way, yeah”.

“I agree with you!” He sounded so hyped that you flinched. “If things were already written in stone there would be no point in fighting for one’s dream. That’s why it’s my job to make you fall for me!”

“Say what now?” You were dumbfounded.

“Leave it to me! Now that I’ve found you I would do anything on my power to make you happy and ensure that I’m your best choice!”.

“You WHAT?”

“Think about this. You had already my name on you, make sense that I at least try to fight for you, doesn’t it?”

“How does that make any sense?!”

“Don’t worry, I promised you that someday you’ll fall for me, even if it takes me a hundred years!” He was completely ignoring that you were being overwhelmed. ‘How was he so confident?’ you thought. “We should exchange name numbers! We can have our first date in a park nearby...”

“Wait! But why?” Bokuto enthusiasm was catching cuz you felt a rush in your blood. “Bokuto-san...”

“You can call me Koutarou” He cut you. You hesitate a second but continue.

“Koutarou... Why take all the bother for a stranger that you just met? especially one that just said that didn’t believe in this pseudo-raffle” He just smiles at you, blushing a little.

“To be honest, finding my soulmate was the last thing on my list. I had enough things to worry about to care about someone I didn’t even know... But after seeing you, I thought it was worth 'the bother’ for someone as pretty as you” He stared at you with an intense look and that exact moment you knew you were already doomed.

“You are kinda obstinate” You declared after a little pause, fighting the butterflies on your stomach.

“I get that a lot!” He replied with a cocky smile. You giggled at his statement.

“I don’t think that’s something you should be proud of” You sighed, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Ok, let’s give it a try”. You said cheerfully, ignoring that he was now blushing at you.

[jeong-uwu]

Sunflowers ~ Lee Jeno

Genre: Fluff, maybe???  Fem!reader x Tatto artist!Jeno

Word count: 1,2k

Warnings: Mentions of cheating (idk if that counts as a warning tho), none

a/n -  I’m so so so sorry for a late and possibly kinda bad update, school has been killing me, even though it’s like three weeks since the second semester started. Also, this is like one of my first long fics (It’s not even that long tho, lol), so I really hope it at least turned out decent! I’m sorry for the shitty end, heheh<33

---

The doorbell to the little flower-shop rang, letting you know that a customer had arrived. Looking up you were met with the nervous eyes of none other than Jeno, the tattoo artist that had just started working at the parlour across the street.

“Oh, Jeno! What brings you here on this fine autumn day?”

He looked up, obviously startled by your voice. He fumbled with the sleeves of his hoodie and cleared his voice, ears tinted red.

“I was wondering if you could help me pick out some flowers for my girlfriend?“

“Of course, what’s the occasion?”

“We’re, uh, celebrating our one year anniversary.”

You found his nervousness sweet, and in all honestly you understood why he was nervous. Although you were single it was easy to see how much this meant to him.

“Okay then, champ. What does she like?”

---

The selection of flowers ended up taking quite some time. Jeno was meticulous and payed a lot of attention to the details of the arrangements. In the end you settled for a bouquet of red roses with lilies as fillers. Simple and elegant.

You had to admit that you were enjoying his company, and this flower-choosing session had really allowed you to get to know more about him. 

He had thanked you profoundly and left with a promise to update you on how the date went the next day.

As he was headed towards the door he paused, and his eyes lit up as he turned around, facing you.

“Oh, I almost forgot to ask you, What’s your favourite flower?” His eyes glinted mischeviously

You gave him a small smile.

“Sunflowers.”

---

You had grown quite close to the quiet tattoo artist across the street. Countless hours had been spent laying on the floor of his studio, listening to the calming sound of his pencil as he sketched up new ideas for tattoos while you did some research on your new hobbies. In the evening you’d sometimes hang out on the rooftop of your apartment complex, watching the stars 

You came to adore his small quirks, like how he’d always put way too much sugar in his coffee, or the way he’d give you small drawings of sunflowers to cheer you up when you were down. Come to think of it, you had slowly come to adore him.

That’s how you ended up here, a couple of months later. You had been in the kitchen, preparing a late night snack, when someone knocked on the door to your apartment.

You instantly knew who it was, as a familiar voice quietly called your name from the other side of the door.

When you finally got to the door, the sight that met you made you gasp. Jeno’s eyes were red and swollen, obviously from crying, and his hair and clothes were a mess.

You quickly ushered him into your small apartment, directing him towards the livingroom while you went to te kitchen to make him some hot chocolate.

Entering the livingroom again, you made sure that he was covered in blankets and comfortable before sitting down beside him on the couch.

“What happened?” Your voice was soft as you leaned into his side, providing as much comfort as you could.

You felt his body tremble as he let out a shaky sigh.

“She...” he paused, collecting himself, and stopping more tears from entering his vision.

“She cheated on me. My girlfriend cheated on me.” His strong façade crumbled right in front of you as tears filled his eyes and he sunk into your shoulder.

“Am I not good enough for her?” His voice was small when he asked. It made your heart ache.

You wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer. 

“Don’t you ever think that, okay? You are so kind and clever, and funny. It’s her flaws and insecurities, her fault, not you. Never you”

You cupped his face, drying his tears. It broke you to see him like this. You had silently watched him being treated bad for the last month, beating yourself up and not knowing what to do. Deep down you were just glad that it was over. Jeno deserved so much better.

You embraced him, letting him cry on your shoulder, as you rocked him back and forth, planting a soft kiss on his head.

You stayed like this for the rest of the night. Holding your first love, and with each of his sobs you felt your heart break a little more.

---

It had been three years since the night Jeno came crying on your doorstep, and your friendship with him had only grown closer.

It was not unusual to find him in your flower-shop, helping out when he had time, or in your apartment at the strangest times. That’s why you weren’t suprised when you woke up to the sound of someone rummaging through your cupboards in the kitchen.

You jumped out of your bed and walked out of your room, not bothering to change out of your pajamas.

Entering the kitchen you found Jeno preparing breakfast for you by the stove. He looked up at you, cheeks tinting red when he noticed your bare legs.

“You’re here early.” Your hands found their way around his waist as you watched him prepare the eggs.

“Ah, yeah, I figured that I should thank you.” He eased into your embrace.

“Thank me?”

“Yes, just for everything you’ve done for me. I’d be lost without you.” He turned his head to catch your gaze, and squeezed one of your hands.

You smiled in return, pink dusting over your features.

“Need any help?” You picked up a spatula, prepared to help.

He laughed and shoved you away.

“Hey, I’m supposed to be treating you, not the other way around!”

You playfully rolled your eyes as he shoved you in the direction of the livingroom.

Dropping down on the couch you couldn’t help but smile at the boquet of flowers Jeno had left on the table. Sunflowers, your favourite.

When you got closer to the table, you noticed a small card tucked in between the flowers.

Picking it up you couldn’t help but admire the intricate drawings. It was obvious that Jeno had put a lot of time in to making the card.

When you opened the card Jeno’s elegant handwriting filled the page.

Y/n, you mean the world to me. Will you be my girlfriend?

You were at a loss for wors, unable to believe that this was happening.

You heard said boy clear his throat.

“So... What do you say?” He sounded so vulnerable, so different from the confident and cheery boy he usually was.

Turning around with a big smile you immediatedly threw yourself at the boy behind you, causing him to loose his balance and the both of you falling onto the couch.

You pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek that was now the attractive colour of a fire engine.

“Love, I’d feel honoured to be your girlfriend.”

[boshaw-manor]

‘But I will never forget!’

‘Do you think he’ll answer?’ John fiddled with the rubber antenna of Rook’s radio, his fingers shaking a little.

‘Nah.’ Jacob shook his head, bracing his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers.

‘He might.’ Faith said quietly, sinking back into the armchair she was sitting in. The three of them exchanged uncomfortable glances as they waited for Rook to return. This was a situation they had never expected to be in. Faith had been the first to bend the knee to the resistance, joining them out of fear for her own life. Now she was Bliss free but still suffering with ingrained withdrawal symptoms. Pastor Jerome had told her they would go eventually but that these things need time. After that, Rook decided that offering olive branches may be a better strategy rather than painting her hands with more blood; innocent or not. Jacob was second though hesitant at first. It was only when he saw how unravelled John had become that the soldier devoted himself to the resistance. In fact, Jacob was present when Rook approached John and was probably the reason why the youngest Seed agreed to wave the white flag as well.

‘How long does it take to go to the toilet?’ John groused, leaning back into the sofa and letting his fingertips draw nervous circles atop his knuckles.

‘When nature calls.’ Jacob shrugged, narrowing his eyes at the radio that stood on the table. ‘He ain’t gonna answer anyway so this is all a waste of time.’

‘We won’t know unless we try.’ The washed-up siren spoke softly, drawing into the cushions that surrounded her. Finally the door to the bathroom swung open and Rook entered, fastening her belt and sitting on the sofa between the Seed boys.

‘You guys ready?’ She asked. John looked pale, Jacob stoic and Faith anxious. None of them said anything to her. ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ Rook turned the dial on her radio to line 13 and pressed down on the button.

‘Joseph?’ The line fizzled a little bit as she released the receiver, waiting. ‘Jacob are you sure-‘

‘It’s line 13.’ He stated matter-of-factly and John nodded in agreement.

‘It’s always been line 13.’

‘Right...’ Trying again, Rook pulled the radio closer to her mouth. ‘Joseph?’ There was a very short crackle of life and she looked to the siblings. He was there, just not speaking. Rook gestured for one of them to say something but they all stared at eachother, lips buttoned tight. Releasing the receiver again, she slapped a palm to her forehead. ‘One of you say something for the love of God!’

‘Well I mean, it should be you really.’ John elbowed Jacob who gave a deep set scowl.

‘Why the fuck should I?’

‘You are the oldest.’ Faith said quietly, tugging at the sleeves of her white jumper.

‘You aren’t even blood, you don’t get a say in this!’ Jacob growled, scuffing a boot on the floorboards. It shut her up, sending her lips into a smooth line.

‘He will listen to you though.’ John’s voice was quiet as he looked to his oldest brother with a pleading expression.

‘Oh for- fine! Fine!’ Jacob snatched up the radio and jabbed the button aggressively. ‘Joseph, we know you’re there.’ A long pause of silence filled the room. ‘Stop bein’ an ass and answer us!’

‘Jacob!’ Faith exclaimed, her delicate eyebrows scrunching downward as she have him a critical eye.

‘Give it.’ John leaned over the Deputy and snatched the radio from his eldest brother, who rolled his eyes so hard Rook thought they were going to fall out of his head. ‘Father-I, I mean Joseph! We uh, we’ve surrendered to the resistance and uh we-we-we uh-‘ The former baptist stumbled over his words nervously, each stutter evidence of the deep set fear he had for Joseph and the repercussions of his actions. Rook had never seen him so rattled. Emotive speeches were usually right up his alley.

‘Jesus fucking Christ.’ Jacob grumbled, running a scarred hand through his ginger hair. ‘Spit it out John, we ain’t got all fuckin’ day.’

‘Well it’s not exactly easy Jacob!’ John’s tattoed fingers left the receiver for a split second as he stole a tense breath. It felt like his heart was going to burst through his ribcage and go walking around the room. His skittish blue eyes rolled up from staring at the radio to land on Faith. With a trembling hand, he extended the communications device towards her. ‘You sure you don’t want to try?’

‘I’m not blood remember.’ She said pointedly, giving Jacob a short glare before regaining her composure. ‘I’d rather not talk to him. He... he...’ Her body physically shuddered at the thought and she clung to herself, shrinking down against the many pillows that decorated the armchair in a desperate attempt to seem smaller.

‘So we’re back to square one then.’ Rook sighed, pressing the balls of her palms into her eyes before reaching a hand to John. ‘Since all you guys do is fucking bicker.’ Curling her fingers to gesture to him to hand the radio over, Rook tried to compose the twisting feeling that was causing havoc in her stomach. He slowly placed the device in her hand and she hunkered down on the sofa, crossing her legs so that one knee touched Jacob’s thigh and the other John’s. Faith gave a small nod of encouragement from across the table as Rook sighed heavily and pressed on the receiver. ‘Joseph. It’s time to give up. Your family are all here and have surrendered. Don’t you think it’s time to let it all go?’

‘Those I love have turned against me?’ Joseph’s voice came through as a crackle and the room became tense. Faith tugged a pillow onto her lap as a shield, John’s finger found itself slipping between one of Rook’s belt loops and Jacob’s mouth slunk down into a thin line. ‘You act as though I did not see this coming. As though God had not warned me that this would happen.’

‘Just stop! Stop with all the ‘God told me this, Gold told me that’ nonsense for a minute.’ Rook leant forward, placing herself as close to the radio as she could. Three pairs of blue eyes burned into the Deputy, desperate for protection though they wouldn’t say it out loud. ‘I’m giving you a chance to hand yourself in and be free of all this madness. We can help you Joseph, we can fix all of this. We’ll forget all about it and-‘

‘But I will never forget!’ His voice almost echoed inside the room as he screeched angrily down the line. John’s grip on Rook tightened, clutching onto the small tag of fabric that was meant to keep her belt in place. Jacob’s hand defensively landed on her knee and pressed down even though his sightline was staring straight out of the attic skylight. Faith buried herself between more pillows, a choked sob bleeding out between the gaps in the fabric. ‘You have taken my flock, taken my family and turned them into renegades. They wanted to be with me, they wanted to be with God. But you have stolen them and poisoned their minds against me.’ Joseph paused and let out a long, tempered breath that seemed to waft out of the receiver and paint itself on Rook’s skin. ‘Punishment will be served unto those who deny the word of God. That includes those who have chosen to walk the path of the Sinner.’ And with that, a loud bang rippled down the line and cut it off. He’d shot out his radio.

‘Well that could’ve gone better.’ Rook sighed, tossing the device onto the table and dragging a palm over her face. She hadn’t realised how much she’d been sweating. Jacob’s hand raised from her knee and hung in his lap whilst John unsnaked his fingers and leant back into the sofa. Faith’s head poked out of the mound of cushions nervously and Rook had to stifle a laugh. ‘You look like a gopher.’ The laugh bubbled in her stomach, escaping her lips first as a raspberry and then into a full blown chortle. Faith’s cheeks flushed pink and she giggled lightly, looking down at the huge fort she’d unwittingly created. John slowly smirked, pushing his hair back beneath his sunglasses and started to snigger lightly. Even Jacob’s lip twinged upward, turning into a slight chuckle that made his shoulder’s bounce.

‘Guys how did it- what the hell?’ Mary May pushed open the attic trap door, head emerging from the ground which only sent the four of them into even more hysterics. ‘What’s so funny?!’

‘G-g-gophers.’ Rook managed to muster as John slapped her leg and cradled his abdomen. Wiping tears from the edges of her eyes, Rook glanced around the room and smiled even harder. It was the happiest she’d ever seen Jacob, John and Faith since she landed in Hope County. And she had to say, it felt a damn lot better laughing with them than it did holding them at gun point.

[imagining-sio]

Escapism V

Biker!Bucky X reader

Chapter V: James 

Something defintely changed over the next few weeks. I found it odd that Rumlow kept his distance, I hadn’t heard a peep, nor even seen his face. Surprisingly, I had no encounters with any officers even though I had been expliitly told by everyone that they were in his back pocket. 

That and the fact Bucky was now the replacement for thor in the ordering of coffees. Every time he came in he gave a wierd excuse for Thor not being present, of course it was to please Edna, whom took it in good strides. Eventually, she just found it to be amusing to see what outlandish thing he could come up with.  

It was the same case this morning, I walked back from handing a beverage to a small pair of men in suits. They looked like they were travelling, they mostly kept to themselves and didn’t really talk to anyone else but each other. They clearly weren’t from around here. 

Enda looked up at the door when the bell jongled, signalling a new customer walking in. She glanced over at me with a satisfied look. 

My neighbor nervously sauntered into the shop. His white shirt stained with grease, as was his usual attire. His tattoed sleeve on his left arm drew attention from some of the customers, mostly the ones who were ogling him. I couldn’t blame them, I still don’t know how his legs could have fit into the light wash jeans he wore. 

“Hello James; is Thor off sprocketing again?” She said with raised brows, watching his nervous, shifty expression. He stuttered over his words, his arm rubbing the back of his neck; extending his shirt to reveal the left half of his hip, as well as what type of under wear brand he uses. 

I took a deep breathe before walking by him, occaionsally setting dirty dinnerware upon the tray. 

“Good morning Bucky,” I said slyly, making him jump. 

“M-morning Y/n.”

“The usual James?” Enda asked, catching the man’s attention. 

“Hm- Oh! yes, please.” He replied, almost doing a double take. 

“Something on your mind?” I eavesdropped from the back room. Occasionally peeking over my shoulder, watching Barnes self destruct. 

“oH, NO-NO; just jittery from not having coffee yet.”

“Isn’t it after you have coffee that you get the jitters.” Enda prompted to ask, smiling at his wide eyed expression. Enda laughed, which only to make Bucky ore on edge. 

“I’m messing with you James, You know where to sit. We’ll get you order for you.”

“Thanks Edna. And please, don’t call me that.”

“Well apart from your, Mother who else is going to?” She said walked back into the backroom, giving me a smirk. 

“What?” I furrowed my brows, drying my hands off. 

“If you two aren’t together by the end of this week; I’m gonna have to talk to his mother about it.”

I swore I almost dropped the plate I had in hand. There was still a loud clatter, but thankfully nothing broke. 

“Why me? What makes you think I wanna be with him.”

“Oh, please. You two argue like you’ve been married for years. Yesterday, you had a debate for five minutes on wether or not sprocketing was even a thing.”

“Because its not!” I said, my tone defensive. 

“Well, I think you two are good for each other.”

“Where could you get that from.” I threw the towel over the drying rack, untying my red apron from my outfit. I grabbed the large bags that held all of the sandwiches while Enda put the drinks in their carriers. I held the door open with my waist, making sure she was able to walk out first without problem. 

“Here you go James,” She handed him the drinks. 

“Thanks, Ed.” He pecked her on the cheek, making the elderly woman blush. 

“Ready to go?” he turned toward me, a small smile gracing his lips.  I nodded my head, his smile grew contagious and spread to my lips as well. He strode ahead of me, making sure to open the door, even though his hands were full. 

“I could’ve gotten that you know,” I told him. 

“I know.” He smirked, his charm bouncing back full force. I could only roll my eyes fondly. 

“So, anything new happening?” I asked as we walked down the street toward the crosswalk. 

“Not much, we’re still havig trouble landing a place for the cookout next week. We usually have it at the park, but the farmer’s market threw a wrench in our plans.” 

“Oh?”

“No one really wants a buch of gearheads at a farmers market with their exhaust pipes.” He shrugged, pretending it didn’t bug him. I knew better. Bucky, as well as the rest of the shop had been trying to get me to go, almost pestering me everyday.

“Is there an alternative?”

“Not at the moment no. Wanda doesnt wwanna use the bar, we kinda trashed it last year. We helped clean up, but she doesnt wanna risk having to buy another jukebox.”

“I see. Was it you or Sam who broke it?” I nudged mockingly. He chuckled, his shoulders jutting forward as he laughed. 

“Nah, that was all Tony, when he’s drunk he likes to trick things out. He may be a genius but he can make some stupid desicions when wasted.”

A though popped into my head at that moment. I watched as the crosswalk turned green, signalling our right of way. Not that it mattered, there weren’t enough cars to make a difference. 

“You could have it at my place.” I blurt out. As soon as the words left my lips, I winced, not wanting to see nor gage his reaction. 

“Really?” he lit up. 

“I mean, yeah. I have private access to the lake. My backyard should be big enough. Just as long as they park on your side of the street. I just finished gardening.” I shrugged, trying not to make it out to be a big deal. 

“Are you serious? This isn’t a joke?” 

“Why would I be joking Barnes?” I shook my head exasperated. 

“You would do that?” we walked into the shop’s large garage entrance. Steve immeadiately went to grab the coffe, quickly skirting out of peripheral. Sam walked up on my flank, eyeing my neighbor as he slid the bags out of my hands. 

“I-I mean yeah. It’s neighborly.” I said lamely, my shoulders hunching up to my neck. He blinked at me, his mouth slightly agape. I took a sheepish step back, swallowing the butterflies jumping around my stomach.

“Well, lemme know when you guys wanna have the cookout. I can-“ I started, but I felt a jolt forward. Bucky grabbed hold of my arms and envoloped me in a tight hug. His arms encased my width easily. I could only inhale the scent of his greasy shirt, sensing the mixture of motor oil and his oclonge he used. I slowly started to reurn the favor. 

“You don’t know how much this means to me.” He pulled back, far enough that I was still in his grip.

“It’s no problem, really.” I deflected, trying to stop the bright red tint flaring upon my cheeks. For once I was actually excited to have friends over. I was excited to have friends. 

Little did I know; thats where it all went haywire. 

It took me a whole week to make sure my home was spotless. I had mostlikely cleaned the house three times out of sheer panic. The bathroom was cleaned almost everytime I used it. I stocked my fridge full of beverages both alcoholic and non. 

I started the day as usual. I showered and got dressed in a casual crop top and destroyed jeans. I roamed around the house barefoot, since I had no need ot be going anywhere. 

I tried my hand at baking around lunch, and was somewhat sucessful. I made three batches of biscuits, which was plently for the whole group. However when it came to sweets, I failed in that department. 

As I wafted the smoke detector with my rag, I heard a knock on the door. No one was supposed to be here for at least two more hours. Then again, no one ever showed up on time. 

“Just a second!” I shouted, finally getting the smoke detector to stop blaring, I strode toward the door. 

“You guys are a little early dont you think-“ My words fell out of my mouth. 

“Actually I think I’m right on time.” Yon Rogg turned around, a smug smile plastered on his face. He peeked over my shoulder; analyzing my home. 

“Love what you’ve done with the place.”

“What are you doing here?” I tried to remain emotionless as possible, but my white knuckle grip on the door proved otherwise. 

“I wanted to see how you were doing. Can’t I see my favorite person in the world?” He strode into my home, tainting it with every step he took. I pursed my lips, taking a deep breath. I looked out across the street, seeing my neighbor walking out the door. My adrenaline spiked as soon as I saw his bright blue eyes. He waved from across the street, calling my name. I shook my head, slamming the door; hoping he understood. 

“You’re neighbor seemed pleasant.” Rogg spoke up from the kitchen, helping himself to the fresh biscuits. 

“What do you want.” I stated, venom spilling out of my voice. 

“I wanted to say Hello, Y/N,” he took a bite of the baked delicacy, eyeing me up and down. 

“No you don’t.” 

“Oh, you know me so well. I love how clean the place is. Looks like I may have rubbed off on you.” He stood before me. His stature towered over mine, the alarm bells in my head were running at full volume. 

“I told you we were done.” I took a step back, only for him to follow with me. 

“Oh, I could never be done with you, honey.” He set the biscuit down on the counter. His tone turned dark, I looked past him to fnd my purse, whee my pepper spray was kept. 

“Did you really think you could hide from me? You give yourself too much credit.” He backed me up against the wall. His hand slammed flat next to my head, makign me jump. 

“You could never get rid of me, sweetheart. You know how the game is.” I flinched as his hand came up to my face, caressing my cheek. 

A knock came at my door, jutting the conversation to a halt. I ducked out from under Yon, walking toward the wooden gate to my threshold. Upon opening it, I was relieved to find my neighbor on the other side, with a stack of small boxes in hand. 

“Hey, Y/n!” He smiled, though I could see the concern in his eyes; “I know I’m early but I thought I coud help set up for tonight.”

“Thanks,” I smiled, making sure that the man in my home would never see my neighbors face. Not if I had anything to say about it. 

Bucky had other ideas. 

“I tried going through you gate but it was locked.” He stepped inside, giving the man in the kitchen a hard glare. 

“I didn’t know you had company.” He said plainly, though I could easily spot the suspicion in his tone. 

“Yon was just passing through town. Thought he would say ‘hi’. Don’t worry, he’s not staying.” I spoke before the man could get a word in edgewise. 

“Yes, I was just leaving actually. I have many clinets to get back to as you well know. Kree Inc, won’t take care of itself.”

“Kree Inc?” Bucky set the boxes down on the breakfast table near the window. 

“You never heard of it?” Yon asked incredulously, adjusting the linen suit he wore 

“No, can’t say I have. We don’t here much in a small town like this.” Bucky stood straight, sizing the man up; “How do you know Y/n.” He jutted his chin as Yon walked up to him, standing toe to toe with the man. Bucky still had an inch over him, as well as a few pounds of muscle. 

“Y/n is- was, my fiance.” Yon straightened his tie dismissively. Bucky’s eyes widened at the statement, his fists balling up. He looked at me, the disbelief still evident. I could only cast my gaze on the floor, nodding my head. 

“Well then, aren’t you two the happy couple.” Bucky smirked as he watched Yon’s expression harden. I fiddled with my watch upon my wrist. 

“Bucky,” I chided him. 

“Well, been nice meting you John,” Bucky stuck his left hand out. Yon raised a brow, but met the man’s hand with his own. The two shook hands, but something was different. They stared each other down like they were looking down the barrel of a gun. For Bucky’s case he might as well have been. Yon however, he grmaced near the end of the shake, finally relenting his hand. 

“Quite a grip you got.” Yon rubbed his hand, walking past the man and toward the door. 

“Y/n, my dear, always a pleasure.” Yon pecked the side of my cheek, it took everything in my power not to gag as I reached for the front door.

“Just go,” I muttered under my breath, the desperation in my voice made him smile. It was sickeneing. 

“Nice to meet you, Billy.” Yon said over his shoulder as he passed through the threshold. I slammed the door before Bucky could retort. That didn’t stop him from trying. 

“It’s Bucky!” He shouted. I ran up to him, covering his mouth with my hand. He gave me a quizzical look at my actions. Once I heard the start of his engines I remained silent. I waited with bated breath as the engine of his expensive sports car drove off and finally out of earshot. 

“What did you ever see in him?” Bucky said with disdain, his hand encasing mine. I shoved him as hard as I could, causing his back to knock into the counter. He merely laughed at first, before he saw my enraged expression.

“What is the matter with you!” I shouted, wringing my hands through my hair. I began pacing. 

“Wait; what did I do?”

“What didn’t you do James!” I threw my arms up exasperated; “You don’t know him like I do Bucky. He will pick you apart bit by bit. Trust me I know. He isn’t a CFO for nothing.”

“So, I could take him.” He crossed his arms childishly. 

“This isn’t something you can punch your way out of, James.” I pointed at him. He eyed me from where I stood, a glint in his bright blue irises. 

“Since when did you call me James,” He snorted. I rolled my eyes. 

“Since you decided to barge in and almost start a fist fight with my ex.” 

“So what, he probably deserved it.”

“You don’t get to make that choice.” I retorted.

“Oh, and you do?” 

“YES!” I shouted, my hands resting at my hips. I watched as Bucky’s expression changed, his eyebrows furrowing. He gyrated his hips, making his upper body follow with him; pushing himself off the side of the island’s ledge. He uncrossed his arms as he approached, still not uttering a sound. I stood straight as his left hand reached out, liftng the hem of my crop top a little highter; thus exposnig the raised line of tissue on my side. 

“He do this?” He traced the scar with a delicate, feather light touch. The back of his finger caressed the scar, as if it were still fresh and would reopen if he put too much pressure on it. I tried to cool the warmth pooling in my stomach, only staring at his face, which was locked on the eight inch long scar. 

“Yeah, he did.” I whispered beneath my exhale. His nostrils flared, he bit his bottom lip hard as he raised his head. He took a deep breath, his chest heaving a few times. He backed up a few steps, his arm rubbing the back of his neck. His other fist balled up again, I could hear his knuckles crack from the pressure. 

“Bucky-“ My stomach dropped. 

“I’ll be back.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna kill him.” I heard him mutter under his breath. He marched toward the door. Now the alarm bells were sounding in my head. 

“What! Bucky wait!” I scrambled to stop him. I tried to grab his arm, only for him to evade my grasp easily. He was getting closer to the door. I had no choice. 

I jumped on his back, causing him to stagger backward from the weight. 

“What are you doing!” He shouted, one of his hands latching on to the underside of my thigh. He was quickly loosing balance, and we toppled to the rug covered floor, in a heap. 

“Do not go after him!” I wrestled with him as he tried to get back up. I latched on to his wrists, someway, somehow wrangling myself to get on top of him. I threw my weight into my arms, planting his wrists above his head on the floor. I straddled his waist, effectively planting his center of gravity to the ground. 

“Bucky, listen to me! Do not, under any circustances; go after him!” I heaved, finding the ordeal heavily exhausting. He blinked at me with his ocean blue eyes, his expression blank and half lidded. 

“I don’t care if you don’t like him. And for once in your life, just listen to me.” I lessened my grip tentitavely, gaging his reaction to see if he would try anything. 

“Okay.” He spoke softly, his word breathing life back into my lungs. My shoudlers sagged in relief, hanging my head as a sigh escaped my lips. I finally released my hold on him, but I was far too lazy to actually get up. 

I felt his hands against my hips. the sensation made my head snap back up to him. He was giving me a mischevious smirk. It was only then I realized the predicament I had gotten myself in. 

“You know,” he said, a smile growing on his face; “If you wanted me under you, you could’ve just asked.”

“You’re disgusting,” I couldn’t help but laugh, trying to quell the warm feeling in my stomach. His laughter didn’t make it any better. I stood to my feet, not bothering to help him up. I rumaged through the boxes on th eisland counter, finding a load of multicolored market lights. 

“What do I need these for? It’s not christmas.” I looked back at him, finding that he was watching me from the floor. He rolled his eyes, finally opting to get to his feet. 

“No, they’re for decoration; honey.” He placed the lights back in the box. Stacking them one atop another, he nodded his head int he direction of my backyard. 

“C’mon I’ll need your help.”

“Oh by all means then,” I replied condescendingly; “Lead the way fearless one.”

He laughed in respone, making me smile. 

After an hour, we had the all three boxes strung up all over the place. Some were stung along the edges of the dock, lighting it up like an airport runway. Others were around trees, and connecting between them. By the time we were turning them on, the sun was beginning to set beneath the mountain, casting the shadow needed to make the lights glisten. We exchanged glances, both satisyfied with our handiwork. 

Which was perfect timing, because that when weveryone was starting to show up. Thor brought his pickup, housing most of the food and chairs. Sam also brought his beat up vehicle, its model and make foreign to me. 

“Let’s get this party started!” he walked through the gate to my backyard, holding a pair of tongs and a bag of charcoal. 

“We gotta get the grill frist, dumbass.” Bucky rolled his eyes, elbowing the man. Wilson gave a defeated Aw in reponse before following the brunette. 

“Wow, I love what you’ve done with the place.” Wanda walked into view. I noticed she had a towel in hand. and her top was a halter bikini top. 

“You’ve been here before?” I asked. 

“My brother used to live here. He was close with everyone; we usually had the cookouts here anyways.” She smiled fodnly, as if recalling the memories in her head. 

A loud shout from Clint drew our attention, watching as he sprinted toward the dock. His flip flop caught on on e of the boards, causing him to stumble straight into the water. The brunette and I laughed. 

“Somethings don’t change though.” she laughed. Thor was setting up the snacks on the picnic table as if he’d done it a million times. Steve was carrying all the cups and plates, holding the gate open for Bucky and Sam, whom were arguing with each other as they brought the grill in. I watched as they set the large round grill down, Bucky, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. His gaze met mine, and he returned the smile I had on my lips. 

“Alright lets get this thing started!”Sam perked, pouring the charcoal on the grill. 

Everything hit me then and there. This rag tag group of people who welcomed me into there group with open arms. They were more than friends. They were a family. The fact they welcomed me into their group could only mean I was soon to be in their family as well. It felt safe, secure, stable. Like nothing I had experienced in a while. The cookout went with out a hitch. Music was palying, people were happy. I was content. Even with what had transpired earlier that day; I would usually start my way into packing up and heading to the next nowhere small town as fast as I could. For some reason, I didn’t want to leave this place. I wanted to build a life here. It was a profound feeling, but I knew I didn’t want to leave. I liked that feeling. I had become less tense over my stay here, I couldn’t let Yon try to ruin by simply knowing where I was. He was right, I could never hide from him. But I could be happy. Happy was something I hadn’t felt in a long long time. 

As everyone was starting to pack up and head out for the night, others were cleaning up, or hitching rides from the people who brought vehicles. It was hilarious to see a drunken Sam try and pawn a ride off of Thor, who was indifferent to the whole situation. 

Bucky however, hadn’t spoken to me the whole night. Yes, he had kept his distance, but I wasn’t so oblvious to feel his eyes on me as held conversation with the others. 

Bucky and Thor were draggin the grill back over to his place. Steve was escorting evryone back to their designated drivers. I was getting rid of the trash when Natasha walked over to help me. 

“You two need to get a room.” SHe said abruptly, makng me trip over my feet. 

“What?” I shot up. 

“You and Bucky. You two need to get a room. I am not about to lose forty bucks to Sam for another week.”

“Is there a bet I don’t know about.”

“Yeah a whole pool. We all took bets on how long it would take you two to get together. So far Sam is winning.”

“How come?” 

“Because he doesn’t think t’s gonna happen.”

“What if it doesn’t?” we tossed the used tablecoth in the trash. 

“Then Sam gets to play whatever he wants on the radio for a month, and he gets the cash money.”

“There’s cash!” my eybrows shot up. 

“Oh, yeah. Its split half and half in the shop. Everyone is in on it.” 

“You guys are weird.” I said, dusting my hands off on my pant legs. The gate creaed open, Steve and the afformentioned neighbor were back.

“You ready Nat? Clint’s been calling you.”

“NAT!” as if on cue, we could hear the man from the street. Natasha shook her head, small smile gracing her lips as she walked out of the backyard. 

“Night Y/n,” Steve gave me a burly hug and walked out behind her; leaving me alone with my extremly good looking neighbor. 

“Need any help?” Barnes asked, nervouse wringing his hands. 

“Nah, just gotta clean up the bottles in the kitchen. You’re welcome to join though,” I said, opening the glass door leading to my home. By the time I turned around, he was already at my side, his eyes lit up like stars. 

“I would love to.” He smiled brightly, his cheeks bringht pink, probably from all the alcohol we were drinking. I rolled my eyes, a smile forming on my face as I walked into my home. 

“Make yourself at home.” I waved to the couch, which was directly opposite of the island where the bottles had been placed. I grabbed a large trash bag and began placing the glass bottles in. As the black plastic bag grew heavier and more cumbresome, I stuggled to keep it open as I gathered more bottles. 

“Here,” Bucky said softly appearing behind me. His hand grazed over mine, reaching for the bottles. I looked up at him, finding a warm smile on his lips. I hled the bag open as he placed the remaining bottles in, finally tying the bag in tight knot. 

“Thanks.” I spoke softly, matching his tone. A bright flush of pink flaring on my cheeks, one that wasn’t from the alcohol. I set the bag down next to the trash can, a reminder for tomorrow. 

“I’ll take it,” Bucky reached out, his tattooed arm reached past my face. I raised the bag, standing sideways to legnthen my outstretched arm. 

“No,” I told him. 

“No?” 

“You heard me,” I gave him a satisfied smirk. I set the bag down with a thud next to my aluminum trash can. I turned around to find him lungin at me. I barely had time to dodge out of the way as he tossed me over his shoulder. 

“Bucky! Put me down!” I was laughing, much to my own chagrin insdie. He twirled around, making the two of us spin. 

“James!” I shireked, casuing him to stop. He was laughing at my predicament, walking toward my living room. 

“James, put me down this instant.” I said between my feats of laughter. 

“If you insist.” He dropped me onto the couch as if I weighed nothign. I flopped onto the cushions, bouncing as I finally came to a stop. I was laughing so hard it hurt. Bucky flopped on top of me, becoming dead weight. I struggled to breathe. I barely could get my legs out from under him, finally pyring them out on either dise of his waist.

“Get off you oaf!” I laughed, trying to push him up and away from my body. Both of us were laughing, mostly from the alcohol. His hands grazed the curve of my waist, his fingers ice cold; I jumped at the sensation. His head snapped up, a wry grin on his face. 

“You’re ticklish.” He said plainly. I shook my head violently. His grin only widened, his hands plastering themselves on my back. The ice cold palms made me arch my back, shireking at the subzero temperature. 

“James!” I desperately tried to pry him off of me, giggles spewing out from between my lips. 

“Say it again.” His voice dropped, his hands splaying out onmy bare skin under my shirt. I could feel his thumb rub back and forth as he did. All of the laughter I had caught in my throat. I looked up at him, his blue eyes gazing directly back at me. 

“What?” my eyes flitted between his eyes and his lips. 

“Say my name again.” he repeated, his tone even. 

“James.” I obliged, my hands grazing over his taught biceps. He dropped his head toward mine, his nose tracing a line up the side of my neck. 

“Again.” His tone dropped agian, making the pool in my stomach flare up. I dropped my head back onto the couch. 

“James.” My voice became more breathy. I felt his lips upon my neck, leaving a wet trail. 

“Again.” he said, barely above a whisper. My fingers threaded through his hair. I felt his lips encase my earlobe, only fueling the fire in my insides. I could feel one of his hands cradling the back of my head, his deft fingers carding through my locks as well. I could barely muster a thought let alone say anything, opting to close my eyes and revell in the moment. 

I only opened them again, albeit half lidded; when he ceased. I looked up to find him flitting between my eyes and my lips, slowly, excruitatingly, inching toward me. 

“James if you don’t-“

I didn’t have time to finish my sentence. His lips beat me to the punch. 

[not-rksophie]

i want you now

kt audition solo ┗ hey now by the regrettes (0:00-1:00 & 2:40-3:04) ┗ wc: 1318 w/lyrics | 1214 wo/lyrics

it’s an overcast morning as sophie walks out of the underground station. there’s a thick knitted scarf wrapped around her throat, and her guitar case hangs on her back. gangnam is always busy, and sophie makes her way through the throngs of people, headphones over her ears, trying to find the building she’s meant to go to. the kt entertainment building is tall and imposing, the big letters on the front making it easy to spot even among other high rises. 

she’s not quite sure what she’s doing, really, auditioning for a company that focuses on idol groups and bubblegum pop, when really that’s about as far from what sophie would like to perform, but she guesses if nothing else, it’s an opportunity to perform, and maybe make some contacts in the industry, get to know people. she hasn’t trained terribly for her audition, what with end year projects deadlines for uni just around the corner and taking most of her time, but she’s still confident that her performance is going to be at least decent. 

inside the building, the receptionist instructs her to sit down at one of the big sofas and wait for someone to come pick her up. sophie does, shedding her thick coat and scarf and playing with the sleeves of her knitted sweater. to an outsider, it may look like a nervous gesture, but it’s really for lack of something better to do with her hands, a way to let out her energy. she looks curiously around, at the pristine white floors and furniture, the posters of current and past artists on the walls. she tries to imagine herself coming here daily to practice, and her eyebrows furrow slightly at the thought. it clashes, the immaculate look of the company with her messy, pierced, tattoed self, and she can’t quite picture it. before she can dwell more on it, a voice interrupts her train of thought. “miss kim?” sophie turns around and finds a young girl there, probably not much older than herself, dressed in a sober dark suit, and waiting for her with a soft smile. “please follow me, we’re ready for you,” she says in a soft but firm voice, and sophie gathers all her things up quickly before following her further into the building. 

as they go up in the elevator, the woman explains to sophie the process of the audition, what they had already told her when she had called the number on the business card. she had thought it had been a prank at first, but after googling the name and phone number, it turned out to be real. after that, sophie hadn’t wasted much time before calling to arrange the audition. “remember, you get ninety seconds, don’t waste them,” the woman finishes just as the elevator doors open, and the make their way to one of the doors along the corridor. “good luck,” she says at last, an encouraging smile on her face as she opens the door and ushers sophie inside. sophie walks in, still a bit dazed at how fast everything is happening. for some reason, she had thought there would be a lot of sitting and waiting around, but clearly that’s not how things work around here. the door closes behind her, and sophie turns to stare at what looks like a panel of judges, all sitting behind a wide table, glasses of water and stacks of papers on it. the woman who had handed her that fateful business card – who sophie has taken to referring to as the “doctor” woman in her mind, since that was her costume that night – is there, a serious set to her features, as is katie kim. sophie may not have grown up in korea, and not be into the idol world, but she knows her anyway, if only because her classmates all seem to idolize her. there’s a couple more people at the table, all looking at her curiously, and after a second, sophie starts forward and bows, a ninety degree bow like her grandparents insist is polite. “hello, my name is sophie kim, and i’ll be auditioning for you all today,” she says with a wide smile as she comes up, her speech not overtly formal, but not too casual either, that weird mix that she always has done with korean. the doctor woman smiles at her, a small twist of her lips, before she nods and speaks: “whenever you’re ready.”

she drops her things by the door, and takes out the guitar from its case, hanging it over her shoulders. she wiggles a bit to make sure it’s comfortable, and plays a bit on the strings to make sure it’s tuned. she finally stands in the middle of the room, her beaten down converse and ripped jeans a contrast against the fashionable suits of the others in the room. the doctor woman gives her a small nod, and sophie takes a deep breath before she starts playing. 

the rhythmic strums and knocks on the guitar set the tone for the song, and sophie nods along with them, her eyes on the guitar at first, but quickly raising to look at the judges, lips spreading in a smile. she shuffles a bit in place, following the rhythm of the melody, once she starts just strumming the guitar. she soon starts singing, arguably the skill she’s come her to show, her inherent cheekiness coming out to match the playful lyrics. 

Hey now, what's your name? You're really cute and really nice I think we should go on a date Hey now, you've got it going on Hey now, you're like my favorite song

her voice is firm as she sings, that edge of roughness that it always has seeping through. she loves this song, one of her favourites from a group she likes just as much, and it hadn’t taken her long to settle on it for her audition. it’s comfortable and familiar, the guitar chords some of the first she learnt, and it allows her to play a bit more with her performance. 

Hey now, what's your birthday? Because I read in the book That my most compatible month is May Hey now, do you like my dress hair? Hey now, because earlier I looked a mess square

a playful smirk slips into her features as she goes into the second part of the verse, the knocks on the guitar back again. she’s changed the lyrics a bit, because really she’d never wear a dress, and even if the song is a cover, she wants what she sings to be true to herself. it’s that same honesty that comes through as she sings, the joy performing gives her clear to anyone watching.

Oh baby, you got me going crazy Oh baby, I want you now na-na-na-na-na now Oh save me, won't you help me? 'Cause baby, I want you now na-na-na-na-na now I want you now na-na-na-na-na now

a small guitar solo comes through, the chords changing a bit before she goes into the chorus, her voice finally belting a bit more. the rush of endorphins and adrenaline that performing gives her makes her smile widely as she sings, a small chuckle even slipping out. she shakes her hair off her face before she continues, slowing down as she sings the last line and plays the last chord on the guitar, the sound echoing in the big room. 

she smiles widely at the judges once she’s done, and bows as best she can with the guitar still hanging on her. 

“thank you, miss kim,” says the doctor woman, “you may leave now.” 

sophie nods and smiles, not really caring what they thought of her performance, just happy to play music and sing. “thank you,” says happily, gathering her things before she makes her way out of the room, lips still stretched onto a smile.

[chocolatemillkk]

A Different Side of Love (JM)

Request: Hi can I request a bad girl imagine with jack? She's kind of a player she has tattoos and jack's in love with her but they have more of a open relationship or something. You're a really good writer so whatever you write is amazing xx

"I've seen you before," is the first thing to leave her mouth. "Where do I know you from?"

"I'm not sure," Jack answers. "Maybe another party like this one?"

"Probably," she nods but Jack can tell she's still itching to pinpoint the exact moment she saw him first.

Jack was at yet another party in the nicer part of town. It was June-the first day of summer-and the air was still, the trees swaying slightly. That's when he spotted her, tattoos dancing along her collarbone and down one arm, others sprinkled on her hands and one on her neck. Her hair was piled on her head into something messy and she stood staring at her phone in frustration until she looked up and caught Jack staring.

"I like your tattoos," Jack says to cover up the staring.

"Thanks," She says.

"They're so detailed-there's so many," Jack laughs nervously.

"Yeah I've collected them over the years," she nods to his arm. "You've got a few too."

"Yeah, I want to get more soon," Jack glances at his. "When was your first time?" Y/N raises an eyebrow and Jack flushes. "Getting tattoed. Your first tattoo."

"This one," she lifts her leg and hitches up her skirt so Jack can see the tattoo on the top of her thigh.

"You went really big for your first one," Jack admires; the tattoo was three inches across.

"Go big or go home right?" She smirks.

"I like that attitude," Jack flirts. He points to his first tattoo which looks tiny in comparison. "That's my first."

"That's cool." She touches it with her fingers. "I was a lot more rebellious when I was younger," Y/N explains. "So I wanted to the things that would push all the buttons on my mum and dad."

"And now?" Jack laughs.

"A retired rebel," she jokes. "But still rebellious."

"Once a rebel, always a rebel" Jack says. He glances at her tattoos again, trying to decipher the ones going down her arm.

"I'm Y/N-are you going to introduce yourself?" She asks with a slight smile after the silence of Jack getting lost in her body art. She takes a sip of her glass, finishing off her drink, before setting it down on the ledge.

"Of course," Jack says casually. "Jack Maynard."

"Hm," she squints. "I know another Maynard."

"Conor Maynard?"

"That's the one, you know him?"

Unbelievable, Jack laughs. "He's my brother. I know-we look nothing alike."

"Oh babe that's an understatement. The two of you are day and night."

"So which one am I?"

"Hm," she tilts her head to the side. "Day."

"Is day sexier?" Jack jokes.

"Day's pretty good at flirting," she responds with the same smile.

"He's pretty good at some other things too," Jack tells her, and she looks him up and down before stepping closer.

"Like what?"

Jack brings his fingers to her chin and it's only a short distance before his lips are on hers. It's like she'd been waiting for the very moment as she puts her hand to the back of his neck to pull him closer and guides his other hand to her hips.

Without another word, the two rush out of the club and get a car to Jack's flat.

"No strings attached, right?" She said the first time, straddling his hips and a wicked grin on her delicately painted lips-now smeared at the edges.

"Right," Jack had said quickly, eager to be close again. Little did he know he would regret saying that later.

She was whispered promises and kissing in the dark. She was a quick grin and a sharp tongue and lips that tasted like rum and desire. Jack was an addict and the bedroom became his den where he went to indulge his secret and bring his world to life.

Jack began to look forward to when they would meet again, she was always on his mind, even his friends wondered why he was always so distracted. And Jack did get his feelings involved. He knew she was probably seeing other people-they hadn't made any promises to each other. But Jack remained devoted to her and tried not to speculate whether she was seeing other people or not.

"No strings attached," she would remind him again as they put their clothes back on even though they knew they would be back on the floor in a few minutes.

"None at all," Jack would reply, the lie tasting like pennies in his mouth.

"Good," she would say with a grin that was reserved just for Jack.

Until one late night in August when she stayed instead of leaving soon after. Jack hears her rummaging in the kitchen instead of the familiar sound of the door closing.

"Hey," Jack says softly to her back that was turned to him. "Did you want anything?"

"Just getting water," she says, fumbling with the glass. Her back still turned, Jack decides to walk towards her instead.

"You alright?" Jack asks, his arms wrapping around her waist and kissing the tattoo on the back of her neck before leaving one on her shoulder too.

"Yeah," she sighs, her voice cracking ever so slightly.

"Y\N," Jack turns her slowly and she grips the glass, not looking at him. He tilts her chin up until she is.

"I've just had a rough day-a rough week," she laughs dryly. "Nothing feels right."

She seemed different the last few days, Jack remembers. Jack had assumed she was getting bored of them and he'd stayed up thinking of ways he could convince her to give them a chance. If there was even a "them".

"Why?" Jack asks her.

"I don't know," she looks away. "Everything feels like it's falling apart. Just nothing really feels right to me anymore-"

Jack watches her trying to find the words to describe it but she stops mid-sentence and wraps her arms around his waist. She rests her head on his chest with a sigh.

"This is maybe the only thing that feels right to me right now," she mumbles.

Jack prays his heartbeat isn't as obvious-maybe there was an "us" after all. He pulls her into his body and strokes her back for comfort.

"Stay the night," Jack risks the moment by saying the three words they'd never spoken.

After what feels like hours, she pulls away from him and looks into his face.

"Really?" She asks.

"Yeah," Jack tucks her hair behind her ear. She leans her face into his palm so he kisses her.

"Won't it just complicate things?" She asks, her eyes heavy with clouds.

"Who cares?" Jack speaks the truth for once. "Uncomplicated was getting boring anyway."

She nods, one quick jerk of her head. "I'll stay."

They go back to the bedroom and this time it feels different, like something raw and unusual was burgeoning between them.

"I hope you don't snore," she comments when he hand her one of his t-shirts.

"I don't," Jack laughs. "I hope you don't hog the blanket."

"As long as someone's there to keep me warm enough," she winks before dropping her shirt to the floor.

Jack is mesmerized with the way her tattoos seem to come to life as her hands lift over her head and the shirt falls over her body. Jack remembers feeling intimidated when she'd first approached him, she stood so confidently and spoke boldy but here he had her and she was actually staying the night.

"What's on your mind babe?" She asks. Jack was staring at Y/N again and he'd forgotten, lost in thought.

"You," Jack says before he could really filter himself.

A smile cracks her face and completely transforms her expression. It's unlike the flirty one she gives him or the amused look she'd give. It makes her look five years younger-cute and carefree.

"My girls keep asking about you," she puts her arms on his shoulders. "They wanted to meet the guy I'm always texting."

"I thought no strings-" Jack begins but she puts her hand on his mouth.

"Jack Maynard you don't fool me for a second-you wear your heart on your sleeve and I know no strings attached means bullshit to you."

Jack waits for her to remove her hand from his face before he laughs.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" He asks.

"I was figuring it out too," she shrugs, rubbing the flower under her collar. "I've decided you're one of the good ones."

"Yeah?" Jack asks.

"One of the good ones...in bed-yeah," she laughs as she pushes Jack onto the bed and lands next to him. He rolls his body over her and kisses her with nothing to lose. He could finally take her on a date, introduce her to his friends, be more than friends in every way!

Once the two settle down Jack wraps his arms around her protectively and pulls her close in bed.

"I'm not very good at this," she whispers after a while.

"At what?" Jack mumbles.

"Relationships, being a girlfriend-being open. I've never had a steady boyfriend, people always judge my looks before they get to know me and I just go along with it. But I want to try to change."

"We'll work on it together," Jack says.

"Thank you," she squeezes his hand and Jack feels his heart warm for the woman in his arms. "You've already opened my eyes to a different side of love."

Jack was surprised, here he assumed she knew everything to do with love. He doesn't respond with words, simply kissing her instead.

"Remind me to show you the tattoo I got for you," she yawns.

"You got a tattoo for me?" Jack asks, not bothering to hide the surprise this time.

"A small blue flower, the colour of your eyes." She says sleepily.

"Does that mean I get one for you?" Jack asks, already thinking of what he wanted to capture about her the most. But Y/N was too tired to respond so Jack lets her drift asleep in his arms for the first time.

She was still whispered promises and kissing in the dark, a quick grin and a sharp tongue. But her whispered promises held through, and she kissed just as passionately in the morning as at night. Jack loved her soft and calming smile just as much as the quick grins and her sharp tongue convinced him of tender secrets shared between the two.

Jack met all her friends and eventually she met all his crazy friends and he felt proud as they loved her almost instantly. He'd never felt this way about somebody before and he'd never met anybody so edgy yet soft at the same time.

"Should I start creating the wedding playlist?" Conor asks the day Jack introduced her to them all. "You're looking at her like she hung the stars bro."

Jack laughs with a shrug, he didn't care that people knew how much he loved her. "You should've started yesterday." He claps his brother on the back. Conor pretends to panic before jumping to where his phone lays and searching for something.

"Your friends are very cool," Y/N comes up to Jack but before he could respond a songs been blasted on the speakers. Jack groans and looks at his brother who grins and then mouths along to the song: Can't Help Falling in Love.

"You still sure about that?" Jack sighs but Y/N just kisses his cheek and joins his brother in singing it.

[shawnmend-yes]

“You second rate spoon”

 * part two of you fucknugget series*

<-previous

Walking down the street definitely attracted some attention, especially on warm days like today when you decided to throw caution to the wind and go completely sleeveless, all profanity on show. Let them stare, after all these years you were definitely used to it by now. Still, it didn’t stop you from shielding your arm slightly behind your back or crossing it over your waist as you walked down busy streets. Like this one.

It was just another thing you mentally added to this list of things you hated your soul mate for, weird stares but more importantly the fact that you always had to wear long sleeves, work, school, baby sitting – especially baby sitting. You learnt that quickly after the incident with little Sophie down the street. You never did get invited back to their house.

“So lemme guess, Hot chocolate to go with no whipped cream but extra marshmellows and a flake?” Emily teases, nudging her elbow into your ribs. “Even though its absolutely boiling outside and cream is the best part of Any drink.”

You wrinkle your nose up at the thought, rolling your shoulders out in a mock shudder. “Cream is the absolute worst invention in the history of worst inventions.” She just shakes her head at you, rounding the corner beside you.

“Absolute nightmare” she mumbles under her breathe as she peeks out the corners of her eye at you. You narrow your eyes in her direction, as she fumbles in her bag for her purse. You take this opportunity to strike, bumping her with your hip and reaching forward to catch her just before she falls. “Im wounded” she mumbles, throwing herself to the floor and clutching her ankle. “Looks like you gotta get the drinks.”

“nope.” You argue, eyebrows raisng so high on your forehead that they may as well be trying to escape. “its not happening” you say again with a laugh as you take in her puppy dog eyes staring up at you.

“But… im injured.” She whispers, poking her bottom lip out as far as she can manage. You sigh and hold out your palm waiting for the familiar feeling of pound coins being dropped. “Iced tea please.” You roll your eyes, stalking towards your regular coffee shop. “Love you!”

You shoot a scowl over your shoulder as you push the doors open and head inside to order. “Y/n! Iced tea or strawberry lemonade?” you hear one of the usual staff ask with a grin from the back of the shop. Practically everyone knows you and Emily by name, of course.

“Tea please,” you reply with a smile, leaning on the countertop as you wait for him to get back around. “Busy day?”

“eh, not too bad. What was the excuse today?” Ben asks, bustling past you with a tray full of empty cups, pausing only to give you a quick kiss on the cheek as he dumps the load into the sink full of water.

You roll your eyes, spinning to drum your fingers on the counter as he rings up your order. “Casual but very realistic fall to the floor.” You slide the coins across to him not bothering to wait for the total, you already know it by heart. “Crippled.”

“Only mentally” he replies with a snort as he moves to make the drinks.

Its not long before your pushing your bag strap up your shoulder and taking a cup in each hand. “see ya ben!” you call over your shoulder as you nudge the door open with your toes. Glancing over your shoulder to see him throw you a quick thumbs up.

Next thing you register theres burning hot chocolate trickling its way down your front, staining you to look like you’ve rolled in a suspiciously liquidy pile of mud. Brilliant. Your surveying the damage to your not so white top when you hear them mutter under their breathe, “You fucknugget”. You freeze for a second and suddenly its not just the spilt hot chocolate on your top that’s making your blood boil.

“You little piece of absolute shit I swear to god if you weren’t my – if you werent I would end your life right here right now, in fact I still might because look at this” you seethe waving your arm frantically in front of his face. “do you know what its like to have THAT scrawled across you arm your entire life, the stupid looks for idiotic parents who just assumed that getting it tattoed on my arm was obviously my number one priority at age two WHAT FUCKING TWO YEAR OLD EVEN KNOWS THAT LANGAUGE SARAH.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, and for a second your bewitched staring at the two orbs of chocolate looking back at you in surprise. “done?” he asks, sarcasm dripping off his voice like acid. That’s all it takes for you to snap back to reality, to remember the situation.

“No im not fucking done you second raTE SPOON!” you scream watching his nose twitch as he presses his lips together. “I should just tip my drink over your head but oh fucking wait I cant even do that can I, of course not because you try to run me over, tried to KILL me and suddenly its my fault? Absolutely fucking not buddy. Not a chance.”

You blow a strand of hair out of your face as you attempt to adjust your bag on your shoulder without spilling any more of either drink. He offers his hand to you with a smirk, silently offering to take one of the drinks off of you. Resisting the urge to stomp your foot like a toddler, you push a drink into his outstretched hand and pinch the front of your shirt, flapping it gently in attempt to cool it down. You watch him swirl the cup gently, eyes crinkling lightly. “Something funny?” you ask with pursed lips.

“what kind of weirdo drinks hot chocolate in the middle of summer?” he asks, grin spreading across his face as you groan at him. He lifts it up as if to take a sip before catching the murderous glint in your eye. “What? Ill buy you another one.”

“damn right you will,” you state as you let the shirt settle down and shift your weight to the balls of your feet. “It’s the least you could do.”

He laughs outright at that, heading towards the entrance to the shop and provoking a smirk from you as you follow silently behind him. “and whys that?” he asks, eyes flitting to yours as he reaches to push the door open. You gesture to the large black tattoo covering your arm with a scowl.

“You think that’s bad?” he asks, arm shooting across in front you to rest on the door frame as he keeps the door back with his body. “Imagine having that whole paragraph written on your arm.” You lean forward, reaching a finger out to trace the small lines, almost giggling at the tiny capital letters ‘WHAT FUCKING TWO YEAR OLD EVEN KNOWS THAT LANGUAGE SARAH’

“At least yours is small,” you grumble as you duck beneath his arm into the coffee shop. “no one can even read it.” You say as you stroll towards the counter for the second time that day with a chorus of laughter behind you.

[minister-for-femslash]

Safe

Summary: After Julia meets a fellow Hedgewitch in her Survivors’ Support Group, she realises that the loss of magic has had wider reaching consequences than she could imagine.

Warnings: Rape and domestic violence

Word Count: 5,852

Author’s Note: A fic for Welters Challenge, theme 7: Black Out

The first thing Julia does is grab a coffee. Black, no sugar. A table has been placed at the back of the room with tea and coffee, croissants, doughnuts and an assortment of other snacks. Julia contemplates a croissant. She had a slice of cold pizza a few hours earlier, but nothing else and she knows she should eat. But her stomach churns and she can't bring herself to pick it up.

A woman joins her at the table. She has unwashed blonde hair that's scraped back into a tight ponytail, thick eyebrows and a gentle smile. Julia recognises her from the previous meetings. Melinda.

She forces herself to smile.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Melinda grabs a doughnut off the table and takes a bite. “Nice tats,” she says.

“What?”

Melinda points to her arm. Julia looks down and sees that the sleeves on her shirt are still pulled up to her elbows after her day long study session. Her hedgewitch tattoes are visible, along with the scars that accompany them.

“Thanks.” Julia quickly yanks down her sleeves and steps away.

The group form a crude circle in the centre of the room. The meeting only lasts an hour, it usually goes a little longer, but they're a few members short this time.

Julia doesn't talk much. She contributes when necessary, offers up words of comfort or support when it's clearly needed but mostly she listens, drinks her coffee and tries to ignore the very obvious way that Melinda stares at her.

When the meeting ends, Julia gathers up her stuff and heads for the door. She's the first out. The cold air hits her skin and she shivers. She rushes down the steps. Her book bag bounces harshly against her hip. She ignores the pain. All she wants is to get back to her dorm room, to lock the door and lose herself in research for her paper on tort reform.

“Which safehouse were you with?”

Melinda's voice carries through the air and Julia comes to a stop. She turns slowly.

“Safehouse?”

“You're a hedgewitch, right?” Melinda undoes the button on her sleeve and quickly yanks it up her arm. Her tattoos match Julia's. “Me too.”

“Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about.”

Melinda smiles.

Julia grips the handle of her bag.

“I have to go.”

-----

Julia misses the next meeting. Not deliberately, it's just she has a test in a few days and she needs all the study time she can get. She attends the next one though. It's a Saturday night, when she normally goes out with a couple of the students in her dorm.

There are few faces she doesn't recognise, but it's mostly the same the crowd. She heads to the craft table and makes herself a coffee. The large double doors creak open. Julia looks over her shoulder and sees Melinda step inside. Their eyes meet for a moment and Melinda waves, Julia offers a smile in return.

Melinda walks over.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hi.”

“I thought we'd scared you off.”

“Nope. I just had a lot of studying to do this week.”

“Studying, cool. Are you at school?”

“Yeah, law school. Excuse me.” Julia tries to step past.

“I'm sorry,” Melinda says. “I didn't mean to upset you the other day, asking about safehouses.”

“It's fine, really.”

“I suppose it doesn't really matter now, with magic gone and all.”

“No, it really doesn't”

Esther, an elderly woman with whispy grey hair and thin-rimmed glasses, claps her hands and the group take their seats.

Julia grabs a chair and carries it over to the centre of the room. Melinda follows.

“So, you do know what I'm talking about then,” Melinda says. She smiles. There's a charm to it, to her and Julia can't help but smile back.

-----

“What about anybody else?” Esther asks, after about forty minutes. The meeting seems to be slowing down. There's a silence. Everybody else looking at everybody else to see who is going to speak next and when nobody seems willing, people starts to gather up their things.

Julia clears her throat and slowly raises her hand.

“I have something...”

“Of course, Julia,” Esther says, a reassuring smile on her face.

All eyes are upon her. Suddenly Julis's throat feels dry and she takes a quick swig from her cup of coffee only to realise that it's now empty.

“I was...” Julia takes a breath to steady herself. “I was asked out, today. There's this guy in my constitutional law class. His name's Roger. We've been studying together, just the two of us and I knew he was interested, and then today he asked me out.”

“Did you say yes?” Esther asks.

“I wanted to. He's the type of guy that I would have been interested in, before, I mean. He's handsome and smart, and kind, I think. He wanted to go and get drinks tonight but I erm, I...”

“You came here instead,” Melinda says.

Julia nods her head.

“Well, that's alright. These meetings are important,” Esther tells her.

“They are. But, I could have told him I had plans, I could have rearranged it for another time. But I didn't. I just said no.”

“Why?” Somebody asks.

Julia's never seen her before, but she looks young, barely out of high school.

“These things take time,” Esther says.

“I know that, I do. It's just... I was seeing someone when... It was new but it felt like it could be something special, you know.”

There's a mutter of agreement from the others.

“The man that...” She takes another breath. “The man that raped me looked like him. Exactly like him and I can't... There are times when I can't keep the two of them separate, in my head. Whenever I think of Richard, I think of him and it's tainted. It's all tainted.” There are tears. She wipes them away quickly. “I know that these things take time but I'm not sure that I'll ever feel ready, that I'll ever be ready to say yes.”

“You will,” Esther says.

Julia nods her head even though the doubt still sits heavy in her chest.

“Looked like him how?” It's the same young girl.

“What?”

“You said he looked like your boyfriend. Looked like him how?”

Julia hesitates. She looks around at the other members of the group who are still staring at her intently.

“They were... They were twins.” Julia sighs. She slumps down in her chair as the others offer up their sympathy. It's a harsh reminder of why she never speaks, only listens. Why she never tells her story.

Her tears have stopped and she feels cold and numb. This is meant to be a place of safety. A place of honesty where they can unburden themselves, but Julia can't unburden herself. She can never be honest, not really, not completely. She can't tell them about magic or gods, she can never tell her story here.

Julia folds her arms across her chest and waits for the meeting to be over. As they pack away the chairs and fold up the table, the remaining crumbs of food shoved into bags, Esther approaches and gently places her hand on Julia's shoulder.

“You did well today. And I know it doesn't feel like it now, but you will get there. It won't be easy and it won't happen all at once, but bit by bit, day by day, things will get easier and when you're ready, you'll be able to say yes.”

“Thanks.”

Esther gives her shoulder a squeeze and then a pat, and then steps away to talk to some of the other members of the group.

“I know she means well but do you ever feel like she can be a little...” Melinda says.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to go and get coffee or something?”

“I've already had one.” Julia holds up her empty cup before she throws it into a nearby bin.

“Alright, do you want to go and get better coffee. I know this place just a few blocks over, they do an amazing cappucino.”

“I prefer coffee, black.”

“I'm sure they do a good one of those, too. So what do say, shall we get coffee?”

“Okay.”

Julia isn't sure why she says yes, but as they step out of the hall and the cool air hits her skin, she doesn't regret its. There's silence between them. Julia's surprised to find that it's not awkward, instead it feels comfortable as they walk the few blocks to the shop.

It's quiet.

There's a couple of college students in the corner and a rather tired looking father rocking his whimpering newborn as he tries to drink his coffee.

They head to the counter and Melinda orders a cappucino, a black coffee and two cookies, both chocolate chip. She pays and they find a table near the window. They sit in silence and Julia taps the side of her cup, it's still too hot to drink.

“So, do you miss it? Magic?” Melinda asks.

Julia takes a moment.

“I don't know.”

It's the truth.

“Magic has been wonderful and it's been cruel.”

“I miss it, sometimes.” Melinda says. “I miss that feeling. The one where you've been trying and trying to make a particular spell work and after all that time and all that effort something just clicks and you can feel the magic flowing through you. You know that feeling?”

“Yeah. I know that feeling.” Julia feels herself smile.

“The scars. Those are Marina's work, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. We sort of managed to get over it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It wasn't easy but we were friends, in the end.”

“Friends? Marina?”

“I know, it doesn't sound likely but yeah. Did you know her, Marina?”

“I know of her. She and Cathy didn't really get along.”

“Cathy? Was that the head of your safehouse?”

“Yeah. I met her at a woman's shelter.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. My now ex-husband is a mean drunk, and by mean I mean violent. He's also a cop, which made leaving him hard. It was the fourth time, I think. It took him longer to find me, but when he did he tried to drag me back home just like every other time. Cathy was one of the people running the shelter and she intervened. With magic. He tried to threaten her and she just sent him packing.”

“That's amazing.”

“Cathy was always doing things like that, looking for ways to help people.”

“So the exact opposite of Marina then.”

“Meeting her was like a revelation, you know. I could use magic to hide from him. So I joined her safehouse and I learnt every protection spell that I could.”

“And now? Do you still see Cathy?”

Melinda goes quiet for a moment and then she shakes her head.

“She died.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Something ripped out her heart.”

Julia's heart drops. Her stomach tightens, twists itself into knots. She picks up her napkin and starts to tear a strip off. She keeps her head down. She can't bring herself to look Melinda in the eye.

“I'm sorry,” she says again.

“Listen to me, telling you my whole life story. What about you?”

“I erm... I...” Julia feels sick. “I'm sorry. I need to go.” Julia stands up quickly, the chair legs scraping across the floor. “I'm sorry.”

“That's okay. I'll see you at the next meeting, right?”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.” Julia grabs her book bag and shoots out of the door. She can't bring herself to look back.

-----

Julia doesn't see Melinda at the next meeting, or the next, or the next. Julia attends, but she doesn't. Julia doesn't worry, at least not at first. There are numerous reasons why people miss meetings, Julia has missed a few herself. But after the fifth meeting with no sign of Melinda she becomes concerned.

She asks the other members of the group if they've seen or heard from her, and while there are smiles and reassurances, especially from Esther, there's also a tension in the way they all say no that makes Julia feel sick, that makes her pulse race.

When the meeting ends Julia makes a decision. It takes a little effort, but she manages to convince Esther to give her the address of Melinda's apartment building and instead of heading back to her dorm, she goes there.

There's are buzzers at the door, handwritten names above each one, some of them faded beyond recognition. Julia pushes the first button.

After a moment, somebody answers.

“Oh hi, I'm actually looking for someone who lives in this building. Her name is Mel...”

The line goes dead.

“Okay.” She tries the next buzzer. “Delivery,” she says, but the line goes dead anyway. She tries again and again. “I have a flower delivery. The card says for my love.” She expects the line to go dead again but then there's a loud buzz and the front door unlocks.

Julia rushes forward and manages to slip in before it relocks. One problem down. But as Julia looks at the stairs that lead upto the first floor she realises that now she's faced with another. Based on the buzzer there are at least thirty apartments in the building and she doesn't even even no which floor Melinda is on, nevermind which apartment.

She starts knocking on doors. She doesn't get an answer from the first two and the third tells her to get lost. The fourth and fifth aren't as abrasive but still, ultimately unhelpful. The sixth is a little old lady with a crooked back and wobbly legs.

“Hello dear,” the woman says.

She looks so frail and fragile that Julia feels guilty about forcing her to come to the door. The lights in the apartment are off, there's just the flicker of colours from the TV.

“Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for someone who lives in this building. Her name's Melinda.”

“Never heard of her.” The woman slams the door shut.

Julia stands there for a moment, shocked by how much venom and anger was in the woman's voice. She can't quite believe it. She knocks on the door again.

“Excuse me.” She knocks a little harder. “I don't mean to bother you but please, she's a friend of mine. I haven't seen her for a while and I'm really worried.”

The door is thrown open again.

“Go away!” The woman shouts.

“Please, I just need to know she's alright.”

“I said go away!” The woman waves her cane and Julia is forced to take a step backwards. “I know who you are.”

“I'm just looking for my friend.”

“Go away, before I call the police!”

Julia notices the bruises on the woman's arm.

“It's okay, grandma.” The voice is quiet as it echoes out from the darkness.

Julia bites her lip and swallows down the gasp. She tries to keep the shock she feels off her face as Melinda steps into the light of the television and Julia can see the large bruising and swelling on her right cheek, her black eye and deep cut across her bottom lip.

“She's okay,” Melinda says. “She's in my survivors group.”

The elderly woman looks at Julia for a moment. Her eyes narrow and her lips curl as she stares intensely, almost like she's trying to look into Julia's soul. She must deem her safe because a moment later the scowl falls from her face and she steps aside, her movement slow and shaky.

“Well, come in then, dear,” the woman says, as she disappears into another room.

Julia steps into the apartment and closes the door behind her.

“Hey,” Julia says.

“Sorry about my grandma. She can be a bit protective. Hi.”

“What the hell happened?”

Julia follows Melinda into the living room.

There's a symbol on the floor, white paint on dark, wooden floorboards. It takes Julia a moment to recognise it. It's not quite right, but that seems deliberate. It's clearly been adapted for a particular purpose. It's a Bindrune; a symbol of protection.

Julia leans down and runs her fingers along the edge of the symbol. It's empty. There's no power. It's just paint on the floor.

“He found you. Your ex.”

Melinda nods her head.

“I suppose it was inevitable, when magic went away. But I dared to hope that maybe enough time had passed that he'd lost interest in me.”

Julia feels sick again.

There's a rattle and Melinda's grandmother steps back into the living room with a tray in her hand. There's a large pot, three mugs and a plate of biscuits arranged in a spiral. She struggles. Her hands shake as she shuffles forward.

“Here, let me help you.” Julia stands up and takes the tray.

“Thank you.”

She places the tray down onto a small table in the centre of the room. Melinda's grandmother takes a seat on a beige coloured armchair and with a gentle groan she places her legs up onto a small rest.

“Milk, two sugars,” she says.

Julia pours the tea, adds milk and sugar just as she's told and then hands the cup to Melinda's grandmother.

“Thank you, dear.”

“You're welcome, Mrs...” Julia stops as she realises she doesn't know Melinda's surname. They might not even have the same surname.  

Melinda's grandmother chuckles.

“You can call me Mary, dear.”

“Are you... Are you alright?” Julia shakes her head. “I'm sorry. That was a stupid question, of course you're not alright. Is there anything I can do?”

“Thanks, but no. Not unless you have magic.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault.”

Julia feels bile in the back of her throat. She looks down at the tray and pours another cup of tea. She tries to hand it to Melinda but she shakes her head.

“Where is he now? Your ex?”

“At a bar somewhere, getting as drunk as humanly possible. He'll be back soon. You shouldn't be here when he does. If you are...”

“Bastard,” Mary mutters.

“I'm not leaving you here.”

“Julia...”

“There has to be somewhere you can go.”

“There isn't. Without magic, he'll find me. He always finds me.”

“What about your old safehouse? Maybe there are people there who can help.”

“It's gone. After Cathy's death everybody just left, there's nobody. The safehouse is gone. My friends are gone. Magic is gone. There's nothing left. There's just me, and my grandma and him.”

“No. There has to be somewhere. I can't let you stay here with him, not when...” She stops. “What about another safehouse?”

“You mean Marina? I don't think she'd be interested in helping me.”

“Except it wouldn't be Marina,” Julia says. “How quickly can you guys pack a bag?”

-----

It's easy to find. Easier than it use to be anyway, all of the protections and ward are long gone and all that's left is a shop front. Julia steps inside and the little bell above the door jingles.

Marty sits behind the counter, his bald head visible over the top of the magazine that he's casually flicking through. Julia walks over. The sound of her footsteps echo through the eery quiet of the shop. She leans against the counter.

“No,” Marthy says, without even looking up from the magazine.

“I need to talk to Pete.”

“No.”

“I said I need to talk to Pete.”

“Not gonna happen. You're done, Marina orders.” He mimes scratching little, red crosses into his arm.

“Me and Marina made up.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you kiss too?” He chuckles to himself.

“Just let me talk to Pete.”

“No.”

Julia sighs in frustration.

“At least tell him I'm here. He'll want to talk to me, I'm sure of it.”

Marty ignores him.

Frustrated, Julia reaches across the counter and snatches the magazine out of his hand. “I mean it. Tell Pete that Julia Wicker wants to see him.”

Marty stands up. He towers over her for a moment before he snatches the magazine back.

“Wait,” he says. He points to the door, and then disappears into the back.

Julia heads outside.

Melinda and her grandmother are leaning back against a small, brick wall, two rucksacks at their feet. Melinda's arm is around Mary, who looks even more fragile sitting under a streetlamp. Her skin is pale, her eyes bloodshot.

“Well?” Melinda asks.

“We just have to wait.” Julia takes a seat next to Melinda.

They sit in silence. Melinda is nervous, her legs bounce and she keeps glancing over her shoulder. Julia checks her watch. Ten minutes have passed.

Mary shivers. Julia takes off her jacket and gently drapes it across her shoulders.

“Thank you, dear.”

Julia checks her watch again. Twenty minutes, now.

“I don't think they're letting us in,” Melinda says. “If I'm not there when he gets back...”

“They're letting us in.” Julia jumps off the wall and marches towards the shop door, only for it to fly open before she gets there.

Pete steps out.

His hair is longer than the last time she saw him. It hangs down over his face and he gives a quick flick of his head to move it out of his eyes. He smiles at her. Only it's not so much a smile but a smirk.

“Julia,” he says. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you came to see me again.” His smirk fades a little as his eyes settle on Mary. “And you brought friends.”

“We need your help.”

“Really. Well you know the old saying, nothing comes for free. But I'm sure if you're willing, we can work something out.” Pete steps towards her. He reaches out and takes a strand of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. Julia flinches as he strokes it. She clenches her fists. His hand moves to her neck and he runs his finger across her skin.

She blinks and she's back on that bathroom floor with her hands tied above her head and Pete hovering over her. She tries to take a breath but it's like the air is lodged in her chest. She turns away from him and stumbles. She blinks again and now she's on the floor of her apartment and it's not Pete that's hovering over her, but Reynard.

She stumbles again. Her foots catches and she falls. She hits the ground hard and pain shoots through her. There are tears in her eyes. A sob escapes before she can stop it and her hands come up to cover her face. She shakes.

There are hands on her shoulders. They rest there gently, too gently to be Pete.

“It's okay. Just take a deep breath.” It's Melinda.

Julia tries to do what she says, but there's another sob and she hiccups. Melinda takes her hands and slowly moves them away from Julia's face.

“It okay. You're here, you're safe. Look at me, just look at me. You're here. You're right here, with me.”

“Christ,” Pete says. “You're more of a psycho that I thought.”

“Leave her alone, you vile man,” Mary says. She lifts up her can and whacks Pete on the arm with it.

“Hey.” He takes a step back.

She hits him again and again.

“Vile man!” She shouts, as she chases him back into the shop.

Julia focuses on Melinda and grips her hands tight. Her breathing becomes steady and the sobs die in the back of her throat as the image of Reynard begins to fade.

“That's good. Keep breathing and stay with me.”

“When Marina gets back I'm sure she'll be wanting a word,” Marty says before he steps away from Mary's cane and disappears inside the shop, as well.

“Are you alright, dear?” Mary asks.

Julia nods her head. She stills feels weak and shaky, but she tries to push herself up. Melinda takes her arm and they stand up together.

“Was he...?”

“No.” There's a level of uncertainty in Julia's voice. She holds onto Melinda and thinks about the bathroom, about the way he dragged his finger across her lips. About his words...

'How does it feel to know that I can do whatever I want to you?'

And she wonders. If her powers hadn't kicked in, if she hadn't broke free, how far would Pete have gone?

She feels sick. Her knees are still weak and she's painfully aware of the fact that she isn't holding herself up. Melinda is.

“Come on, lets get out of here,” Melinda says and they start to walk away from the shop.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I might know another place you can go. Brakebills doesn't usually take in Hedges but I might be able to talk to Dean Fogg and you can stay with me tonig... Wait.” Julia stops. “What did he say?”

“Who?”

“Marty. He said when Marina gets back.” Something sparks in the back of Julia's mind. “Oh you son of a bitch.” Julia steps away from Melinda, now able to stand by herself. “You clever son of a bitch, but you son of a bitch.”

She marches back towards the shop and throws open the door. The bell comes loose. It drops to the floor with a tiny clang.

“Hey!” Marty is back behind the counter.

Julia marches past him.

“Just finish reading your magazine, Marty. Me and Pete need to have a proper conversation.”

She heads into the stock room, only it's not a stock room. She knocks over a pile of empty boxes and sees the crudely cut hole in the wall. She steps through it.

Marty's out from behind the counter. He grabs Julia's arm and tries to pull her back, but she yanks herself free

Mary comes up behind him – along with Melinda – and slams her cane into the top of his head. He tumbles backwards into the pile of boxes.

“Grandma, you can't keep doing that,” Melinda says.

“I'm eighty seven years old, I can do what I like. I should've done it to that vile man the moment you first brought him home.”

“I won't argue with that.”

Julia stands at the top of the stairs. Nobody notices her, at least not at first, they're too busy. There's too much activity. They've been seperated into groups of four and five, each of them trying to make a different spell work. All of them failing. Pete sits in the centre of them. His feet are up on the table, his hands folded in his lap as his eyes move across the room. He looks like a lord surveying his kingdom.

Julia walks down the stairs. There's a loud clang with each step and slowly, one by one, the people in the room, her old friends, turn to look at her.

“Julia.” There's surprise in the voice. Pleasant surprise.

Julia doesn't turn to see who spoke, her gaze is fixed on Pete and his on her.

“I thought I made myself clear,” Pete says.

“You're right, you did, but then I remembered, you're not in charge. Marina is. So, I want to talk to Marina. Where is she, Pete? Where's Marina?”

The smirk has gone from his face. He stares at her, his lips pulled tight, his eyebrows furrowed. He snarls.

“Where's Marina?”

“Why don't we discuss this in my office?”

“No. Lets discuss it here. Where's Marina?”

“She's away. She's gone on a search for magic. She left me in charge.”

Julia laughs. It's harsh and a little bitter.

“Really?”

Pete stands up.

“Why don't we discuss this in my office?” He repeats.

He walks to the door at the end of the room and after a beat, Julia follows him. She ignores the looks the other's give her as she walks past, and is comforted by the sound of a tapping cane and the knowledge that Melinda and Mary are just behind her.

Pete slams the door and immediately turns on Julia.

“You bitch.”

He steps towards her but Julia refuses to back down. She stares at him. She looks him directly in the eyes and he stops.

“Marina's dead, Pete.”

He wavers.

“And you're a liar, because you already knew that. You've been pretending Marina's still alive because the only way anybody out there would ever follow you is if she told them to.”

“I was Marina's right hand, her best friend.”

“Was,” Julia says. “Don't kid yourself, Pete. You weren't Marina's friend, she hated you. She only tolerated you because you could bring her more Hedges.”

“And what, you think she didn't hate you.”

“I know she did and I know she didn't. But here's the question you need to ask yourself, what happens when I go out there and tell them that she's dead.”

“They'll stay. Where else would they go? Most of the other safehouses have shut down.”

“They won't go anywhere else. They just won't be here.”

“They won't believe you.”

“Lets find out.”

Julia heads for the door but Pete grabs her arm. His grip is tight, but when Julia immediately pulls back, he lets go.

“I was there, Pete,” Julia says. “When Marina died. The second time, at least. I held her and she was afraid, she was so very afraid, and when she was gone, where there was nothing of her left, I took her body and I buried it. In the forest, not too far from here. I can take you, if you want.” Julia flops down into a nearby chair. She feels exhausted. “You can place some flowers.”

Pete places his hands on his hips and stares down at her.

“What is it you want?”

“Protection.”

Pete laughs.

“We can't offer that. Magic is gone.”

“Funnily enough, I am aware of that. I'm not asking you for magical protection. This is Melinda, and her grandmother, Mary, I need you to keep them safe.”

“Safe how?”

“From my ex-husband.”

Pete laughs again.

“And how am I meant to do that?”

“Use the safehouses,” Julia says.

“I told you, most of the other safehouses have shut down.”

“But not all of them. So here's the deal, I'll keep your secret. I won't tell anybody about Marina being dead as long as you keep them safe.” She holds out her hand. “Deal.”

Pete doesn't move.

“It doesn't seem like you have much of a choice, dear,” Mary says, as she taps her cane against the floor.

“Fine. I'll send a message to the other safehouses. It might take some time.” Pete heads for the door. Mary does too and he stares at her.

“Could you show me where the restroom is? I'm bursting,” Mary says.

“Fine.”

Pete opens the door and allows Mary to step out first, he follows her and with one quick glance back at Julia he pulls the door closed behind him.

Julia lets out a long sigh. She can feel some of the tension that she's been holding in drain from her as she rests her head down against the wooden table.

Melinda takes a seat next to her.

“Julia,” she says. “I need to... I need to say thank you, for doing all of this. Even if this doesn't work, I don't know how I can repay you for trying.”

“You don't have to. Ever since I discovered magic I've been trying to figure out what I'm suppose to be doing with it. With my life. Maybe it's this. Maybe there are no grand plans, no life changing missions. Maybe I'm just meant to help people.”

“Maybe, but I still need to say thank you.”

Julia lifts her head off the table and looks at Melinda's face. The bruises seem more prominent now, the cut on her lip larger, sharper.

“No you don't. There's something I need to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“What's happening to you right now, it's my fault.”

“Your fault? How can this be your fault?”

“Because I'm the reason that magic is gone. Me and my friend, Quentin, we erm... We killed a god. We thought we were doing the right thing at the time, but as a consequence magic was turned off.” Julia stops. She waits for Melinda to say something, anything, but she doesn't. She just sits silently. “And the thing that killed Cathy, I helped summon him. His name is Reynard and he murdered my friends, and then... Then he raped me. And then he went on a killing spree. That was my fault. It's all my fault.”

The tears are falling. There's a silence between them as Julia brushes them away.

Melinda's hand moves slowly across the table and brushes against Julia's wrist. Her touch is soft and gentle, as she takes Julia's right hand, and then the left.

“I'm sorry.”

“This is not your fault.”

“Yes, it is. But thanks, for saying it isn't.”

They sit in silence until the door opens and Marty peers inside. He glares at them. A large bump is already forming on his forehead.

“We're ready.”

“Okay.”

The door slams shut and Julia turns to Melinda.

“I guess this is where we part ways,” Melinda says. “I'd promise to keep in touch but...” She trails off.

“Maybe we'll meet again some day.”

“Yeah. If you find away to bring magic back then maybe we will.”

They stand awkwardly for a moment before Melinda smiles. She steps forward and slowly wraps her arms around Julia. The two of them hug tightly.

Melinda heads for the door. She stop and looks back.

“Listen. Don't be so busy trying to help other people that you forget to help yourself, okay?” Melinda says, and then she steps out, and Julia is alone.

[thelittlestkitsune]

I believe Sprayberry has a tattoo also, I believe on his lower right arm. Didn't really get to see what it was from his ig story. I feel like tattos on arctors/actresses/models should really be a thing, can still be beautiful and be inked. I couldn't ever be a actress or model because I'm too much of a wild child when it comes to my appearance, I like change it gives me confidence. I'm going to be tattooed tf up, pierced tf up, and colored tf up. Yass 👏👏

I think he does, but have you noticed, he’s in a lot of long sleeves? And I guess one tattoo is easier to cover rather than a zillion ahah. I loooove tattoos and I agree with you, I couldn’t be an actress. I was an actress but I never really fit the mold. Y’know?