#i’m so sorry i just can’t write right now

[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.

[honey-tongued-devil]

Got a request: Jinx x Piltover reader who comes to the undercity a lot to see some action and excitement with Jinx thinking they’re from there only to find out that they’re from topside.

[Arcane preference zaunites] with a s/o from Piltover (viktor, ekko, silco, vander, jinx, vi, sevika)

In less than a week, I’ve gained 500 followers and over 20 requests, so I’ll ask you right away to please be patient. English isn’t my first language, and I don’t think I’ll be able to post more than two or three headcanons a week (since I also draw). I’m sorry to keep you waiting, but I just ask for a little patience. In the meantime, if you’d like to support me, you can follow me HERE (bluesky) even though I haven’t started posting seriously yet, or you can leave a tip HERE. That said, enjoy!

Viktor:

- The most versatile on the subject. He’s the first one who is constantly around the people of Piltover, studying and having his room at the academy, which is even located in a wealthy area.

- Generally, he doesn’t pay much attention to someone’s origins, but as the relationship grows more serious, memories of his early academy years become more vivid.

- Viktor is a chill guy, until he’s no longer chill, (at least the original one).

- Most heated discussions are likely to revolve around politics or events in the city. But as long as you don’t call the people from the Undercity “beasts,” “creatures,” “monsters,” “beings,” or “animals,” his anger won’t be directed at you.

- At some point, he won’t remember anymore that you’re from “different neighborhoods,” and since he needs a hand carrying things to the academy, he’ll start asking you to accompany him to the Undercity when he needs to make purchases or pick up pre-ordered items.

- And although it might scare or intimidate you at first, it won’t take long for you to get used to it.

- Although sooner or later, you’ll learn to change your clothes before going down to Zaun.

Ekko:

- The first meeting with Ekko is straight out of a book: you get caught in a crossfire, and before you can even begin mentally writing your will, an arm grabs you around the torso and pulls you away at such a high speed that you feel like throwing up.

- He can’t take people directly to the hideout, but he can offer you assistance as soon as you’re somewhere safer.

- This is why, the second time he saves you, he can’t help but joke about how it almost seems like you put yourself in danger on purpose, and that you could ask him out in a less dramatic way.

- Of course, he’s just joking to break the tension, but when you actually propose it, even just as a way to repay him, it’s the beginning of the end.

- Between your outfit and the fact that, having run into you twice in a crossfire, you were in some pretty dangerous places, the last thing he expected was for you to ask him to meet up at the bridge and then show up dressed like a Piltie.

- Before his meeting with Cait and the one with Jayce, this would’ve been a breaking point; he wouldn’t have shown up and would’ve just gone back. But now, even if he’s not thrilled, he’ll at least come over to complain that you didn’t tell him you were from the upper city.

- He’s resigned to this fate, but he still remains a bit suspicious and on guard, not knowing your political stance, why you were down there, or how you see the people from his city.

- Even as you become closer, he’ll never stop teasing you about your background. You’re drinking, and you drop your cup? “What a strange way Pilties have of drinking.”

Vander:

- Going down to Zaun without stopping by the Last Drop is a waste, which is why you’re lucky enough to run into the Hound of the underground right away. Not only is he one of the most influential people, but also one with a lot of connections.

- At Vander’s suggestion, you stay at the counter, and he uses the opportunity to ask you a few questions, curious: for example, why is someone from Piltover down in Zaun alone at that hour? What do you study, if you study, or what do you do for work, if you work.

- Vander is extremely sociable, and since he handles negotiations, he doesn’t hold hostility toward upper-city residents, though it’s rare to see them in these parts.

- It’s not even about flirting; he just wants to keep chatting and make sure he won’t have you on his conscience. He asks you to wait until closing, checks in on the kids to make sure everything’s okay and says goodnight, then walks you to the bridge.

- The more regular your visits to Zaun become, the more the other regulars at the Last Drop start to recognize you and get used to you, making that place quite pleasant. And then there’s the deal with the bartender: if you offer him a good chat, he’ll treat you to a good pint of beer.

- The toughest part of getting close to Vander is learning that he’s a single father to four kids, and seeing the hostile and shocked reaction of the younger ones when they find out you’re not from their city.

- But hate is taught, and even if it takes some time, they slowly start to get used to you. Maybe they won’t jump into your arms, but if you decide to stay over, they’ll make room for you or bring you something to dry your face with, in strict silence.

Silco:

- This man, though he may not look like it, is the embodiment of patience.

- It’s his goons who bring you to his office, and the first time, all it takes is a quick glance for him to know you’re not a spy, a rival, a drug addict, or a threat.

- Silco kills, but generally not without reason. So, the first time you have a heart-pounding panic attack from being dragged there, you get off with a warning: if they catch you poking around his business again, it won’t go so well for you.

- But today, Janna’s on your side, and you’re safe.

- The issue is much simpler than it seems: if you live in the Undercity, you know which places to avoid and which gangs control which areas. But if you’re just a foolish Piltie who likes wandering outside your own city, the odds of ending up in one mess after another are high.

- That’s why, the second time they catch you near one of their shipments, his goons already have their weapons drawn.

- This time it’s not even Silco who spares you; instead, a firefight with the Firelights breaks out nearby, and you’re just lucky that bigger problems show up at the right moment.

- It happens repeatedly: either you run into his goons and instinctively wave like an idiot, or you end up in restricted areas, and one of them who’s taken a liking to you motions for you to leave, or you start frequenting the Last Drop and see them all more often.

- Gradually, this brings you more often—and with less dread—to the kingpin’s office, who, since even his daughter likes you, first makes sure to get you a map of the Lanes because “you’re obviously so clueless you must be from Piltover” to keep you from getting yourself killed.

- Then he realizes you’re pleasant enough to let you hang out in his office on weekends, when the noise downstairs is so loud that he couldn’t work anyway.

Jinx:

- You’re essentially the “dumb Piltie” stereotype that comes to mind when people in Zaun talk about those from the upper city.

- Deciding to venture into the alleys without any experience or knowledge of the area purely out of curiosity wasn’t your brightest idea, but at this point, it’s too late to turn back.

- That’s why, after hours spent looking for something interesting—colorful explosions that have been common recently near the docks, some chase scenes—you find nothing, give up, and throw yourself into a bar.

- If it were evening, you might hope for more than just a jukebox playing country music, four young guys playing pool in a corner, and a girl sitting at the bar who looks half-asleep while the bartender cleans glasses, but you still decide to sit down and order something local.

- Everyone’s eyes are on you, but the moment the girl with long blue braids lifts her head, the others snap back to what they were doing, and she looks at you, still drowsy and a bit confused.

- Meeting Jinx is the beginning of the end; she rambles on, is relaxed, and the moment she hears you wanted action, she jumps off her stool and drags you out before you can even sip your drink.

- She has no particular reason—it's just rare to find someone who wants to have fun, although you quickly realize that her idea of “fun” involves risking your neck.

- The first time ends like that; you don’t even exchange names. When it gets late, she vanishes, leaving you no choice but to return to the bar in the following weeks, where you meet her again and pick up on that fun “tour.”

- This “tour” brings you closer, even if you never talk about deeply personal things because there’s never time.

- It’s one night when you’re sitting together on a rooftop, watching the distant lights of Piltover, that she learns the hard truth: you’re from the other side of the river. This single piece of information seems to destroy everything you had built. Without a word, she runs off, and you don’t find her at the bar at the usual time anymore, but you don’t stop trying.

- The bartender probably tells her, or she sees you, who knows, because weeks later you meet again, and she almost looks sad to see you.

- She expected you to give up, not to keep coming back despite how difficult she’d made it, which is why when you pull her into a hug, she stiffens, taking a while to hug you back.

- The closer you get, the more she becomes like a ghost. You even find her at your place, but you never see her on the streets in Piltover. She rarely stays over, but you know it’s because of personal issues.

Vi:

- Vi isn’t for everyone: she’s for those with a “savior complex” or hotheads who can take a couple of punches to the face.

- The reason you’re in Zaun, dressed incognito, is because your colleagues told you there’s some interesting stuff in the underground city’s shops.

- What you didn’t expect was that the “interesting find” curled up behind an abandoned building would be a person.

- Nothing too serious, just a brawl gone wrong. She’d hidden to tend to her wounds in peace, probably in that vulnerable “cornered wolf showing its teeth” state.

- Cooperation isn’t her strong suit, and, not to rely on Undercity stereotypes, but you imagine it’s also rare for anyone to help strangers wounded on the street.

- She becomes more docile after you simply stand by, “covering her back”—basically just staying put and shielding her from view. 

- whenyou blurt out, “Forget gin; I need something stronger.” she starts to like you

- Once she recovers, she gestures for you to follow her, suddenly motivated by the urge to drink. Surprisingly, she takes you over the bridge to your own city, to a cozy pub that smells of wood.

- Drinking there becomes a habit; after a few drinks, you tell her you hate that the evening has to end, and she chuckles, flattered, before saying you can always do it again.

- And you do it again.

- You keep doing it until you end up kissing clumsily in the pub’s restroom, nearly knocking heads together, until she pins you to the wall and your brain signals a warning.

- You tell her you live nearby, suggesting you take things to your place, unknowingly revealing something you thought was obvious.

- She stares at you for a few confused seconds. “You didn’t tell me,” she says, but the truth is, Vi doesn’t hate upper-city people, so once the confusion passes, the alcohol and hormones work their magic, leaving that conversation as a problem for the next morning.

Sevika:

- Her only interactions with people from the upper city have been with Enforcers, but contrary to appearances, Sevika is a big, intimidating dog that’s actually quite tame.

- She doesn’t get her hands dirty unless necessary, so even though she has no fondness for Pilties, she’d never start a physical fight with one.

- You first see her in the Undercity, at the Last Drop, playing cards for a hefty sum of money against two shady types: one bald with a metal nose, and the other dressed like an out-of-place gentleman.

- It’s only when the game ends and she gets up to head to the bar that you clumsily manage to strike up a conversation, receiving nothing but a scrutinizing glance in return.

- She lets you buy her a drink despite the large sum she just pocketed, and when you compliment her on her play, she puffs up with pride and starts talking about how those two just cheated but still couldn’t win.

- For a moment—just a moment—she realizes she’s never seen you around here before, but then she goes back to talking and listening, fueled by the alcohol.

- Getting her out of your head becomes impossible, and if you catch her at the end of her shift, she’s even more relaxed. It doesn’t take many weeks before you find yourself with your knees over her shoulders in the Last Drop’s basement.

- Emotional or mental intimacy with Sevika comes at an incredibly slow pace, but she starts approaching you in the bar, and your “private encounters” become more and more frequent—until you try to make things more serious by inviting her up.

- Her reaction seems angry, but it’s more surprise; she hadn’t realized and didn’t expect it.

- She becomes a lot more guarded around you, until, in time, she learns to trust you again.

[moonstruckme]

Hi, I love the emt!marauders you post, I was wondering if u could write one that the reader has a chronic disease that involves getting sore when it's cold? Idk how to explain, I have lupus, and when it's cold, my joints tend to get sensitive and sore...so something with fluff/comfort, pls?

Thank you for requesting my love <3

cw: reader has unspecified chronic pain that flares up in the cold, I relied on the internet to write this so if anything seems wrong/inaccurate please let me know

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 887 words

Sirius is furious with himself for not checking the weather report. It’s so rare that you all have time off work on the same day, it’s possible you’d gotten ahead of yourselves in the excitement, but the sudden onset of winter wasn’t part of anyone’s plan. Even in Remus’ coat and tucked under James’ arm, you’ve gone quiet and withdrawn. Sirius can practically see you cringing with every step you take down the sidewalk. 

The other boys are similarly concerned.

“Let’s pop in here,” James suggests, maneuvering you all towards a bookstore. 

“Jamie,” you say, voice all sweetness even when it’s threaded through with exhaustion, “don’t go in somewhere you don’t want to just for me.” 

“Doll, I know how it might seem that way,” says Sirius, “but despite popular misconception, James actually can read.” 

You crack a smile, though it looks like it costs you. “Right, thanks, but we’re supposed to be out doing things we all like. If we went into a bookstore, you two would just end up sitting somewhere while Remus and I looked around.” 

“I like seeing you comfortable,” James says, somewhat poutily, “and I like buying you things. A bookstore is sounding rather enjoyable right now.” 

“Don’t you want to go inside?” Remus touches his knuckles gently underneath the butterfly-shaped rash on your cheeks that’s worsening due to the sun and cold. It’s not a terribly frigid day but the wind makes it worse, and however you try to act your boyfriends can see the toll it’s taking on you. “Even if it’s just for a while, it’ll be good to give yourself a break.” 

“Rem’s cold too,” Sirius says, noting the tension in the other boy’s posture now that he’s given up his coat, “aren’t you, lovely? C’mon, I know where we can go.” 

You don’t seem to have it in you to protest as Sirius leads you all down the block to the coffee shop around the corner. The heat is blasting inside. He finds you a table away from the door, where the cold breeze coming in can’t reach you and the whirring of the coffee grinders is less deafening. James insists on buying you each a warm beverage and a sweet (only you and Remus protest this; Sirius doesn’t know why you bother). 

“My poor girl,” Sirius murmurs, holding your frozen hands carefully in his. Remus’ coat pockets have done an insufficient job protecting them. Sirius devotes himself to rubbing warmth into each finger. 

“I think my drink would do as good a job of warming them up,” you say amusedly. 

“As good? I’m insulted.” 

“You know she really should be stretching her joints herself, love,” says Remus. 

“I do know,” Sirius replies primly, “thank you very much. It’s only that I’m very selfish.” 

Remus hums into his tea. “Selfish enough to let her drink go cold.” 

Sirius relents and lets you pick up your mug. You squeeze his hands thankfully before letting go. 

The windows at the front of the shop are foggy. It’s not cold enough yet for frost around the edges, but the mist gives the bustling street a blurred, wintry look, like the four of you are encapsulated in a warm snow globe scene, unmoving and separate from the outside world. Sirius finds it rather peaceful. 

“Did anyone bring ibuprofen?” James asks. 

You cringe sheepishly. “No, sorry. I forgot it at home.” 

“Don’t be sorry, lovie.” James palms the back of your neck, thumb rubbing soothingly. “Any of us could’ve thought of it. We’ll stop somewhere and grab a bottle.” 

“It never hurts to have extra,” Remus agrees before you can argue. 

“Okay,” you say, voice gone soft as it often does when you feel your boyfriends are taking too much notice of you. Sirius doesn’t understand your aversion to this in the slightest. “Thanks.” 

“It’s ungodly freezing out,” Sirius complains. “I move that we make a coffee shop stop every two blocks.” 

James’ face lights. “It could be like appetizer hopping—”

“But with pastries,” Sirius finishes. 

You don’t immediately argue, a promising sign. Remus appears to be warming to the idea as well. “We’d have to pace ourselves a bit more,” he points out, looking at your table cramped with plates and saucers. “Maybe at each place we pick one thing to share.” 

Sirius scoffs. “Suit yourself. I’m not splitting a muffin into four pieces and eating only one.” 

James looks as though he agrees, but he only says cheerily, “We’ll figure it out as we go. Does that sound good?” 

He poses the question to everyone, but they all know he’s really only asking you. Remus and Sirius give their assent quickly and you shrink a bit in your seat, embarrassed. 

“If it really doesn’t sound too inconvenient for you guys.” You lift one shoulder in a shrug. Sirius thinks with satisfaction that the motion looks easier than it might have when you first came in from the cold. “Then yeah, I’m alright with it.” 

“Oh, yes,” Sirius teases, “an afternoon spent enjoying coffee and pastries with the three most fetching people on the continent. I should really rethink this, it may be too inconvenient.” 

“Prick.” James elbows him and leans over to wrap an arm around you protectively, but your smile blooms, and that’s all Sirius wanted in the end.

[revelboo]

Hello, sorry if I'm being annoying. But I’d love to see something with IDW Ratchet or Tarn if you could write anything with them—especially Ratchet. I just don’t see enough good stories about him. I really enjoy your writing style and can’t get enough of it. Sorry for any mistakes; English isn’t my first language.

Sure, I’ve been meaning to do an IDW Ratchet. Tarn’s on my list, too, but he and Ratchet will likely be the last new characters for a while. I’m currently over 30 ongoing storylines at this point 😅

Feel Like Rain

IDW Ratchet x Reader

• Sometimes it’s all too much. Even with First Aid helping, there’s just not enough medics in the Ark to support so many Autobots. Wheeljack and Perceptor can help if push comes to shove, but even then once the fighting begins again it won’t be enough. He’s never enough. And when he can’t get his processor right, when it threatens to drown him, he goes driving in his alt mode. Feels the sun baking him, the sand and hot asphalt under his tires. No real destination in mind, just trying to calm the panic that’s always there, the worry about what might happen. Driving for hours sometimes in a widening spiral about the Ark. Never going too far in case he’s needed. As he turns, he almost misses the car down in a crevice, only part of the bumper still visible, emergency lights flashing. Not his problem, but he’s still slowing anyway. Because he’s still a medic and someone might be hurt.

• Transforming and sliding down next to the car, he lays a hand on the roof feeling the heat of the metal and knowing it’s been there a while. Leaning to look inside anyway, there’s a human slumped forward against the wheel, broken glass glittering in their hair. Unmoving. Too late, then. Spark constricting, he’s turning away, pushing off the car to make the metal groan, when their little fingers flex and you make a low, guttural noise of pain that freezes him.

• It takes time to carefully peel back the roof of the car, snap the seatbelt and pull the door off to remove you. Feeling how hot your skin is against his servos as he lifts your limp form. Your eyes never open but you mumble incoherently, broken fragments he can’t make sense of. That make him wonder just how long you’ve been here, trapped and waiting to die. Because there’s no leaving you now that he has you in his hands. Carefully transforming around you to carry back to the Ark.

• Wheeljack’s in Medbay when he returns, digging through his tools and looking up guiltily, vocal indicators flickering green before he notices the human. “Haven’t seen that one before. Looks rough,” Wheeljack murmurs, moving closer as Ratchet lays you on a berth, your tiny form looking even smaller in the bot sized space. He’s almost absurdly glad Wheeljack’s there. Even though he’s been trying to brush up on human medicine since there’s so many of them now in the Ark, he doesn’t know nearly enough. Doesn’t know how to help you, but Wheeljack has a human. He has to know something.

• Snatching a scanner to run over you, he frowns at the results. Wrist and arm broken, one leg fractured. Body temperature well outside of normal parameters, dehydrated. Blood pressure off from normal, too. And he doesn’t know enough to know which problem is a priority. Which will kill you if he doesn’t fix it first. “Get your human,” he says softly. Temperature? It’s a place to start, cooling you off. “Now, Wheeljack,” he adds without looking up when the other bot doesn’t immediately move. Using a servo to brush your hair from your face, he can see the glass glittering on your skin and in your hair. “You held on this long.”

[chuellas]

Comfort Chain | Getting caught in the rain with them

⤷ Ft. Atsushi Nakajima, Ryunosuke Akutagawa, Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara

Warnings | Fem!reader, terms of endearment used (bella, belladonna, doll, etc.), teeth rotting fluff, mention of blood in Akutagawa’s, total WC: 4.2k

A/N: Aaaahhhh I had sm fun writing these. Funny enough I had the most trouble with Chuuya’s :(

Atsushi (853 WC):

The torrential downpour has been going on for well over an hour now. A level four tsunami had been called around the same time and of course you were out during the time of the warning. 

You’ve been studying at this cafe a few blocks down from your apartment every day for almost a month now, it would have been longer, but you only just discovered the small gem. 

You wish you could say you went there for the quiet atmosphere, but if you’ ‘re being honest, there is some sort of agency in the same building that spends a lot of time in the cafe and they’re… rowdy on most days. No, you definitely didn’t come for the tranquility, what kept you coming was the cute white haired boy with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. His eyes are always alight with glee when he’s around his colleagues, but you think you prefer to see the relaxed and almost somber look he wears when he comes down to the cafe on his own, a truly rare occasion, but something you’ve found yourself coming back just to catch another glimpse of it even though you’re pretty sure he has no knowledge of your existence.

So, you find yourself stuck in the cafe while the world around you becomes flooded, not wanting to take the chance of your expensive laptop getting drenched and completely ruined. You have far too many valuable resources and completed assignments there to let that happen. However, you’re stuck in a sort of predicament, you have to go home sooner or later to feed your cat. You can’t just stay at this cafe forever. 

You curse at yourself for not being prepared and at least bringing an umbrella. 

Maybe you can leave your laptop here with the shop owner and pick it back up from him when the sky isn’t dumping water onto the earth below it. You pack up your things, everything but your laptop and move to get out of the booth to talk to the old man behind the counter. You freeze when the front door to the cafe bursts open and makes you jump. 

Was that the wind?

You peer behind to find the cause of the comotion only to be faced with a soaked figure that you immediately recognize at the boy from the agency upstairs. He seems a little out of breath, as if he had just ran here from somewhere in the city and not from upstairs. The owner is the first to speak up as the white haired boy scans the room, like he’s looking for someone specifically.

”What the devil…Atsu-”

The boy doesn’t let him finish, his eyes landing on you and in an instant he’s striding over to you with purpose. “I’m so sorry, Uzumaki-sama, when I come back I’ll make sure to clean up all the water I tracked in but I needed to make sure she hadn’t left yet.”

You cluelessly look around to make sure it is indeed you that the boy is talking about, as if you aren’t the only one sitting in this cafe. You look back over to find him right in front of your table, arm outstretched with an umbrella in hand. Your lips part in shock at the gesture, this boy who you didn’t really know ran all this way from wherever he was in the city just to bring you an umbrella.

“Hi…Uh…I’m Atsushi Nakajima, we haven’t actually met yet but I’ve noticed you’re here almost every day around this time. It’s hard to miss you when you’re so pretty, y’know? A-and I’ve been wanting to introduce myself! But I always chicken out at the last minute but when it started to rain out I realized you were probably stuck here with no umbrella and…well…you seem really smart, I’m sure you can figure out the rest on your own…”

You blink, your mind trying to catch up with his rapid fire rambling. His words came out so fast they almost blended together. It seems Atsushi also hadn’t realized what he was saying because the same time it dawns on you that he called you pretty and your face flushes a bit, Atsushi’s face turns beet red.

You smile at him shyly and reach out for the umbrella he’s offering. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Atsushi.”

You introduce yourself and he seems to settle down and relax, just a dusting of pink spreads across his cheeks now. “Yeah, it’s nice to finally meet you too. Do you…Would you like me to escort you home? Just to make sure you make it alright! It’s pretty bad outside right now..”

You smile at him and let out an amused puff pair through your nose as you nod your head. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Atsushi smiles widely at you, his eyes shining in that way you’ve come to adore. He takes not only the umbrella from you but your bag too. You thank the shop owner on your way out and Atsushi promises, once again, to be back shortly to clean. 

Akutagawa (776 WC):

The mission ended in a bloodshed, they always seemed to when Akutagawa was involved. His sharp tongue and usually disagreeable personality always makes your efforts in negotiations worthless. You could never understand why Mori insists that the two of you work together. It’s like Akutagawa cancels you out and vice versa.

Nevertheless, you both got the job done. Whether it was done peacefully or forcefully, it was still successful. Unfortunately for you, unlike Akutagawa, you weren’t gifted with a long range combative ability. Yours involves touching your targets, so things always get a little…messy for you. 

The two of you are wrapping things up when the heavy rainfall starts. The sound of the consistent and heavy pitter-patter from the rain hitting against the roof of the - now abandoned - warehouse is soothing. The tension in your body from your previous fight melts away with the melody each droplet creates. The sound almost puts you in a trance and suddenly you’re struck with the strongest urge to wash off the blood that soaks most of your clothing, the smell finally hitting you and making you want to crawl out of your skin.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re moving towards the entrance of the warehouse and Akutagawa is calling after you. “Where the hell are you going? Were you not listening to me? The car will be here in 20 minutes.”

You weren’t listening, hadn’t even realized he’d been talking over all the noise. 

“I’m gonna clean up! Can’t go staining some poor unassuming mailman’s car, now can I? That would be rude, my dear Ryunosuke.” You look over your shoulder at him with a smile and eyes filled with mirth.

His own eyes narrow at you and he clicks his tongue in annoyance, which is nothing new for him, especially when your favorite pastime is pushing his buttons. You watch with sheer amusement when his brow pinches together and an expression of realization flashes across his face. You ready yourself for useless scolding on his part. 

When will he learn? You never listen to him. 

“So soaking the car in water is a better alternative? You’re going to catch a cold if you stand in the rain at this temperature, you imbecile.” Despite his words he follows you out of the building, covering himself with Rashomon so he doesn’t get soaked too.

You don’t respond to him right away, instead you take in a deep inhale and close your eyes to tilt your head up. You let out a long sigh of relief as you feel the heavy and hot blood wash away. It’s not the same as standing under a showerhead like you usually do, undressing in the shower so you can easily wash out the blood from everything all at once. 

No, the rain washing it all away somehow feels purifying. A funny thought considering you’re the farthest thing from the word — perfectly impure. There’s nothing wrong with it, you much prefer it that way. 

Trying to be perfect is overrated anyways.

You don’t know how long you stand there for, head tilted to the heavens in complete serenity. But you’re brought out of your daze when you suddenly stop feeling the rain rolling onto your skin. Your brow pinches together in confusion and you straighten your head to open your eyes only to find an extension of Rashomon now covering you too. You look at Akutagawa with a frown and he clicks his tongue again.

“You’re washed off, there’s no use in you standing in the rain any longer. Unless you planned on getting ill so you could leave me to do all your work for you.” He crosses his arms over his chest and looks to the side, ignoring the way your face lights up in amusement.

You coo at him. “Awe, Ryukun…Are you worried about me? You do care! This needs to be shared. I must tell Gin all about this-”

As you go to pull out your phone, Akutagawa uses his ability to snatch the device and easily crushes it. All you can do is look at him and let out a pathetic whine of complaint. Your lips are parted in utter disbelief as you gape at him.

You let out another noise in complaint and sigh. “What in the hell, Akutagawa? That was like the third phone this month, are you joking? You’re getting me a new one the second we get back.”

He still refuses to look at you but promptly lets out a scoff at your declaration and you can practically hear him roll his eyes. 

“Whatever…”

Your eye twitches at his response but, luckily for him, your ride arrives and narrowly saves his ass from your impending wrath.

Dazai (1268 WC):

You come to the conclusion that the universe is entirely against you on this shitty Monday morning. Nothing has gone right since you woke up. Your alarm never went off because your charger wasn’t plugged in properly, so you woke up late. Then when you finally got your phone on you’re met with 10 missed calls and 3 texts from Kunikida, a text from Ranpo, and 4 texts from Dazai.

You promptly ignore the texts from the other two and call Kunikida back. The blonde informs you of Ranpo’s deduction behind your tardiness and you confirm. Luckily, the agency’s second in command is far more understanding with you than he is when a certain brunette is running late or calls in. 

That’s the only good thing you had going for you this morning.

After you get off the phone you try to take a quick hot shower but the plumbing has other plans for you. For some reason the water in the dorms’ building would not get past mildly warm. You were stuck taking a less than relaxing/calming shower. It was at that point you thought you had given up all hope for a decent day.

You’d be proven wrong and shown by the universe that you were sorely mistaken. 

You quickly get dressed and finally decide to check your messages as you stuff your feet in your shoes, a piece of toast hanging from your mouth as you have one arm shoved through your coat sleeve. You imagine that you look like a complete fool but thankfully you couldn’t care less. You balance everything as you unlock your phone, ignoring Dazai’s messages and opening Ranpo’s first. 

From Master Detective🕵🏻: Heyyyy u should wake up. Ur already l8. I let Kunikida know ur alarm didn’t go off this morning. Seemed to settle him down. YW. Call him when u wake up!

You type out a quick thanks to Ranpo and stare at your phone wearily as you work yourself up to open and read Dazai’s most likely over the top messages. On most days you’d find yourself smiling like a clown at the fact you had a message from him but today you do not have the patience. 

A pang of guilt shoots through you at your previous thoughts and promptly look for his contact, rolling your eyes with a fond smile as you see the heart next to his name that you don’t remember putting there.

Dazai-kun ❤️‍🩹 (Received at 08:17): bellaaaa why aren’t you here yet? :( 

Dazai-kun ❤️‍🩹 (Received at 08:23): kunikida-kun is now blaming me for your absence ꒰(˶◞ ‸ ◟˶)꒱ 

Dazai-kun ❤️‍🩹 (Received at 08:29): my bella hates me! you want me dead!! youre not here :( youre not letting me know where you are :( youre not even opening my messages :((

You have to stop reading for your sanity. The way he refers to you as his bella makes your stomach twist in knots and your heart flutter in your chest. It’s nauseating and far too early for this. 

You should have kept reading Dazai’s messages. If you had, you would have known that he warned you about the incoming storm set to hit at any moment. If you had, you would’ve brought the umbrella you always forget at home. But because the damn bastard made you so flustered with his previous message you didn’t. This is somehow his fault, you decide. He did it on purpose.

The universe truly hates you today.

About a fourth of the way there is when it starts. You aren’t even given a light warning of sprinkling, the downpour starts and it just continues to get heavier the further you get. You consider just walking back to your apartment and calling it a day before it had even really started but then you know Kunikida would have a fit. So you resort to running.

You’re not a runner, you never have been. You’re uncoordinated and have bad knees. An awful combination in running. 

At about the halfway point you notice a figure in the distance walking towards you. You can’t quite make the person out but you do have the rational thought of ‘who the hell is crazy enough to be out here in the pouring rain right now?’ As if you aren’t currently in the same position -- maybe even in a worse position because at least this person had enough sense to bring an umbrella.

As you grow closer to crossing paths with the person you notice he’s wearing a familiar light tan trench coat and you almost collapse from relief. You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy to see that stupid trench coat. You pick up your speed and within 30 seconds you’re crashing into your savior and he loops an arm around you as he steadies the both of you.

“Shame on you, Belladonna. You didn’t read all of my messages. Leaving me on read like that and making me worry.” Dazai looks down at you with a smirk and you already regret running to him. “But! I couldn’t just wait around. Oh no! I had to save my damsel in distress!”

You let out a snort as you roll your eyes. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

You certainly don’t like the smug smile that curls at his lips. “I’ve noticed that you always forget your umbrella. So, when you didn’t respond to my messages, I just knew you would forget your umbrella again and guess what? I was right.”

You look up at him, completely unamused. You were grateful and you would have expressed said gratitude if it weren’t for that stupid smug grin that you would love to smack right off of his face. So instead you kiss your teeth and look away.

“So, what? You want a reward or something?”

That was clearly a mistake, because he lights up at your words and seems to seriously ponder what he could ask of you. Hopefully whatever it is, it’s realistic. Although knowing him, it won’t be.

“A kiss?” His voice has gone soft and his expression is hopeful.

Your stomach and chest both do that thing they did earlier and how the hell are you supposed to say no to that when he’s looking at you with those wide brown puppy eyes. You chew on the inside of your cheek nervously. In your mind, the decision had already been made far before he even asked you for the kiss. You bring a cold hand up to his surprisingly warm cheek and watch as his eyelids and long lashes flutter at your slight touch. You guide his face down to yours as you lean up to meet him halfway for the second time today. 

You watch as his eyes slide shut in anticipation, you pause for a few seconds, lips just a breath apart as you soak in this moment and try your best to commit it to memory. Finally you let your own eyes slide shut and gently press your lips to his. It’s gentle, his movements are soft, as if he’s scared to hurt you by accident. His lips are slightly chapped from the way he gnaws on them but it’s surprisingly nice. You both get so lost in each other that he loses his grip on the umbrella.

You make a noise of surprise and your eyes fly open when droplets start to hit your already soaked hair, you separate from Dazai and he lets out a noise of complaint, keeping you encased in his arms. “Dazai- The- The umbrella, Dazai!”

Chuuya (1.3k WC):

“Forecast didn’t say anything about rain today…”

You blink a few times, trying to comprehend the scene before you. You just got out of the most horrendous shift of your life. It has been a bad day for you all around and to top it off you didn’t even have a chance to check in with the one person that would make you feel better all day. But none of that even matters because here he is, standing before you under the overhang for drop off and pick up in front of the clinic you work at. 

You blink again before finally processing his presence. “...Chuuya? What are you doing here?” 

You aren’t ungrateful. You aren’t. In fact, you’re elated to see him here after the day you have, his presence alone brings you comfort. It’s just this one little detail that nags you in the back of your mind. You don’t think you’ve ever told Chuuya the exact clinic you work at, so how did he know he could find you here? 

As if sensing your hesitation, the ginger explains himself by holding up his phone and shaking it gently. “You have your location on…I wanted to walk you home since it seemed like you were having a rough day.”

You look away sheepishly, forgetting you set your location services on after losing your last phone. You look to the side where the downpour of rain ricochets off the large puddle and bounces back onto the ground, never truly settling. Chuuya was right, nothing was said about the possibility of rain, but here the two of you were ready to walk back when clearly mother nature had something to say about that. 

The joke’s on mother nature, though, because you’ve always loved the rain. You grab Chuuya’s hand and tug him towards the direction of your apartment which, luckily, isn’t too far of a walk from your workplace. It takes you 15 minutes maximum to get home on foot. 

“Any chance you brought an umbrella with you?” You stop right at the edge, reaching into the rain and watch as it instantly soaks your hand.

You look over to the ginger in confusion when he doesn’t respond right away. The look on his face is conflicted and you have to wonder what’s going on through his mind to have him make that face. Your patient and wait for him to come back to you. You’re always patient with him, you learned early on that he needs it and you think he’s worth it. 

Chuuya focuses back in, his gaze now clear and on you — the look on his face tells you that he’s made a decision. “I didn’t bring an umbrella, but…there’s something else…”

“What is it?” You tilt your head at him curiously and Chuuya’s grip on your hand tightens for a moment. 

“I’d have to show you. Do you trust me?” A hesitant look flashes across his face and you wordlessly reassure him with a single nod. “Okay. Okay. It might feel odd at first, some people have even told me it’s made them a little nauseous the first few times.”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, clearly not following what he means. “I don’t- I’m not following…What are you talking about?”

Your face is painted with a perplexed expression and Chuuya realizes he’s not making any sense. His nerves don’t usually take over like this, but when it comes to you they always seem to get the better of him. You watch as he almost deflates, looking at you like a lost little puppy. The ginger lets out a sigh and his grip on your hand tightens once again. 

“You trust me?” He asks again, this time with more conviction.

You nod your head at him. “Of course I do.”

Chuuya smiles at you and then a strange aura washes over the both of you. A subtle red glow blankets itself over you, it’s warmth relaxing your muscles. There’s a certain weight in the air that there wasn’t before. Chuuya examines you carefully, searching for signs of any discomfort. However, there aren’t any for him to find because you’re completely at peace with this feeling. It’s the first time Chuuya has ever witnessed anyone so at ease while his ability is activated. It takes you less than a minute to realize what’s going on — your lips part in shock at the realization. 

“You’re…You have an ability too?” You’ve only ever met one other ability user, that you’re aware of at least and that was years ago.

Chuuya’s brows furrow at your words and then they shoot when he puts it together. “Too? So, you have a gift? This will be easier for me to explain then. My ability is gravity manipulation. At this very moment I’m using my manipulation to keep the rain from touching us.”

As if to demonstrate, the ginger pulls you out from under the awning and into the rain. You gasp and tense in anticipation of the rain completely soaking you to the bone. When it doesn’t you look to Chuuya and watch as the raindrops bounce right off him only millimeters above his skin. Then you look at your own limbs and it’s the very same effect — raindrops bouncing right off as if you’re repelling them and you suppose you technically are. You stare in wonder at the red glow still emanating from your bodies and you smile softly.

You both start walking hand in hand in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Chuuya clears his throat. “So…You have an ability too? Can I ask what it is?”

His voice comes out almost robotic and you look over to him in concern. His whole body is stiff and he’s looking everywhere but at you. You purse your lips at him, confused by his abnormal behavior. 

An idea comes to mind and you smile at him mischievously. He doesn’t notice of course so you easily turn around and grab hold of his other hand. You tug Chuuya towards you and guide him into a dance. You spin around and take a few steps, guiding him into a coordinated dance.

You clearly take him by surprise, so much so that he releases his ability and suddenly you’re both being drenched by the downpour mid dance. You let out a surprised squeal and pause, then look up to the sky with your eyes closed and smile wide as you laugh in pure glee. You straighten your head forward and open your eyes to look back at Chuuya with a wide smile still plastered on your face. The ginger looks completely starstruck, his eyes gazing at you with an adoring glint in them. It makes you blush, his brazen attitude and intensity never fails to create butterflies in your stomach. 

“Hey, you wanna be my girl?” Chuuya pulls you in, rain still soaking the two of you but neither one of you could care less. 

His words register slowly but when they do, you’re speaking before your brain can register that your mouth is moving. “Do you mean-? Yes. Absolutely, I would like nothing more than to be yours.”

Chuuya is pulling you in and crashes his wet lips to yours. The kiss is deep, his lips melding with yours perfectly, just like they always do. His touch is gentler than usual but you can feel him restraining himself. When you pull away you’re both slightly breathless. His forehead rests on yours and your breath mixes together. You start to flush when you realize that the two of you just kissed so intimately out in the open. 

Chuuya senses your embarrassment and chuckles, a smirk settling on his handsome features. “Why don’t we hurry to your apartment, then we can take a nice hot bath together. How’s that sound?”

You smile softly and nod, it’s like he could read your mind. “Sounds like heaven.”

[girlsneedff]

NSFW! Minors and Ageless blogs DNI!

Sukuna x f!Reader, fwbs, best friends, Sukuna's a dick, angst, unrequited love, mentions of sex

Word count: 1k

Author's yap: This is the start of the "NOT Over It" series! Should I have started with Over It first? Possibly. But this is my writing project, and I'm gonna do what I want <3

Fun Girl

And now you’re stuck here feeling shitty. And stupid. All because you decided to fall for your guy best friend. Who you know is a dick. You thought maybe, just maybe, that you would have the chance to get with him- to be in a real relationship with him besides the friends-with-benefits relationship that you have while he’s in between girlfriends, and you’re not distracting yourself with flings and short relationships. You thought that because he’s kept you around, you were different. News flash to you: you’re not. And now you’re wishing that you’d never even asked him about that possibility. 

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The two of you were sitting in his car, coming back from the movies. He wanted to see some random action movie, and you would follow him to the ends of the Earth, so of course you went with him. You’re sitting in the parking lot of the movie theater in comfortable silence, both of you just scrolling through your phones, not really ready to return home yet. 

“You know the girl that I was talking to?”

Oh great. You rolled your eyes, shifting to rest your head on the closed window as you responded, while you continued to scroll through your phone. Trying hard to not show him how much hearing about his prospects bothered you.

“Which one?”

“I’m ghosting her. She’s hot, but talking to her is boring. I’d rather shit in my hands and clap.”

“Ryo you’re a dick.”

“A 10-inch one.”

“It’s smaller than that.”

He hits your leg in response. You shrug, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His body is facing you, his arm resting on the steering wheel. 

“What?”

“You think I'll end up alone?"

Your heart jumps a bit, taking this opportunity to subtly hint at something. Who knows, maybe it would work?

You scoff. “Well at this point, the only girl you’re gonna end up with is me.” You say, trying to sound absent-minded. Sukuna doesn’t even let that sentence, that possibility, hang in the air for a moment before he shoots it down.

“You know there’s no way in hell that’s happening, right?”

You could practically hear your heart cracking, feeling it crumpling in on itself. 

“Jesus, I was just saying.” You say quickly, trying to collect all of the shards of your heart before the hole is too big. Maybe you can glue it back together. He’s harsh- you know this. Don’t let it get to you.

“I’m not saying we’d be in a relationship or anything-”

“Oh yea fuck no. Sorry,” he says, in a way that you just throw the pieces you’ve collected up in the air, damning them all to hell, because you know that whatever he says is going to be devastating as he continues, “but I’d never date you. Ever. You’re not what I’m into.”

You were stunned. Looking back, you don’t know why you were stunned. You know this man. Certified womanizer, number 1 hoe. He’s noncommittal, selfish, rude, arrogant, abrasive. You knew this. So why were you so shocked?

“Oh, so I’m cool to sleep with, but not for a relationship?” You can feel your throat closing up, but you refuse to let him see you get emotional over this.

“We… have fun.”

“Fun?”

“You can’t tell me that you don’t have fun when we fuck.” He looks straight out the windshield, this conversation unconcerning to him.

You guys fuck?

It’s such a harsh way to put it. You hoped he would be softer about it- maybe salvage your feelings. You’re his best friend, for fuck’s sake. His kisses would be so tender as he slowly pushed into you, like he was taking care to not split you apart. The slow fucking and reassurance, the words of encouragement. Though it never lasted long before he’s thrusting into you like he hates you (which now, you’re wondering- does he?), you thought that those first moments were the most important. That they were his true feelings. Dumbass.

“I’m not your type, but you fuck me. How does that make sense?” You finally turn to look at him, your anger and tears combating each other to see which one holds out the longest. Your anger is winning, thankfully.

“Please don’t tell me you’re getting in your feelings about this.” He’s fucking smiling. Rolling his eyes, as if you’re getting worked up over something simple. Because to him it is simple. Sex is simple to him. He gets his rocks off fucking the shit out of anything that moves, and then he moves on.

“I don’t want to know about all of the guys that my girl’s been with. It’s emasculating.” 

“Oh, so you can slut around, but there’s an issue with me having a past?”

“No, there’s not. Because I’m not into you, so it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re such a fucking-”

Immediately you hop out of his car. You quickly start to walk to the sidewalk near the theater, keeping your eyes glued to your phone as you scroll to book yourself an Uber home quickly. Your vision is blurring, but you don’t stop looking at your phone, not giving a damn if cars are rolling through the lot. You may be an emotional wreck, but you won’t allow any man, no matter how in love with him you are, to tell you that he’s using you to your face. You can hear him call out to you- you can picture him leaning on the top of his car with that stupid grin, calling your name as if he doesn’t understand why you would be upset.

You’re that undesirable? But Ryomen Sukuna sees no issue with his past sexual escapades. His charm, and his ability to sweet talk any woman is attractive. 

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

And that leads you to where you are now, sitting in the dark of your room, sniffling and deleting everything in your Photo’s hidden folder.

[twinkling-moonlillie]

Hello! I saw your post saying that you accept requests and mostly for Hawks rn. As u can tell from my username I LOVE this man, so I was thinking if you can write something about the reader using the Safeword during the act with him? Maybe he hurt her without meaning to? And it turns all fluffy with aftercare! You can ignore this if you want and I honestly don't even know if Im writing this in the right place or not it's my first time sorryyy 😭

Aftercare - Hawks x reader drabble

Author's note: Sorry this took so long haha, been busy with life. But!! I loved this idea! I love writing fluffy and doting Keigo. ALSO, here is my link if you want to support me financially <3 It's totally not necessary but money is super tight right now and I desperately need to get out of my household :|

Warnings: Mentions of sex (PIV), slight cursing, mdni. Reader is afab. Not thoroughly proofread

Sex with Keigo was always amazing, extraordinary even. You were lucky that you landed a partner as dutifully devoted to you and your pleasure as Keigo. Instead of giving yourself to some selfish prick whose love was dependent on how well you sucked their dick and how readily you were to spread your legs, you freely let Keigo’s soft touch, warm smiles, and protectiveness melt your heart. 

He often spent nights in between your thighs without so much as taking off his work pants, without expecting anything in return. His lips and fingers worked orgasm after orgasm from you. Your hands gently intertwine with his as he drags his thick cock against your sensitive walls, whispering murmurs of praise, light teasing, and - most importantly - consent checks. Keigo mentioned more than once that your enthusiastic consent made his dick dripping wet with precum. 

All of these facts did not aid the cognitive dissonance in your mind though  as he mercilessly pounded into you, his breath hitching every time he bottomed out; it was so rough it hurt, body haphazardly molded into whatever shape he pleased. The breeding season always heightened his sex drive. He needed this. What kind of partner would you be if you put your own needs in front of his own? 

So you did your best to take the ruthless pounding. Tears dripped down your cheeks. The taste of blood filling your senses as you bite your lip. 

“F-fuck, such a good slut for me, hm?” He rasps. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you’re pregnant.”

Deep breath. 

You could do this

Another deep breath.

You could do this.

And…

You…really can’t do this. 

“K-kei s-stop, ‘s too much …” your voice was too weak and breathy for your liking. “H-hawks”

Keigo’s hips jutted to a stop, half of himself inside you, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Earlier in your relationship, both of you decided on his hero name as a safe word. There was a strict detachment between Keigo’s hero work and normal life, so much so that he detested being called Hawks in your shared home. 

It took another moment for him to understand what happened, the lust fogging his mind pattering away. “Shit, baby…” he slowly pulled the rest of himself out of your spent hole, your body flinching. “Songbird, are you okay?”

As much as you tried to speak, your tongue was like lead, throat filled with cotton. Your sobs sounded more akin to choked babbles. The tears dripping down your face was more than enough though to clue Keigo in. 

“M’sorry” You managed. “S-so sorry, I-i know ‘s your rut but-“

Keigo cut you off with a gentle kiss, his feathers swiftly taking over all your senses as he rolled you into his warm arms. “You did so good for me, love. You don’t need to be sorry. Doesn’t matter if I’m in rut or not,” he pressed another light kiss on the crown of your forehead, “your safety and happiness is top priority.” 

“I wanted to do good for you” you mumbled. “You always take care of me…just wanted to do the same…”

“And you did, songbird.” He titled your chin so he can gaze into you directly. His eyes were always sharp like daggers, but when you stared at him all you saw was his adoration. “I promise it’s not even a big deal. I don’t want you thinking that just because it’s breeding season that I can do whatever I want to you.” 

Keigo’s thumb worked to wipe away the remnants of your tears, cooing praise until the saturation made you giggle. Gentle kisses were frequently exchanged. He failed to mention how this time of the year made him extra doteful. 

“Here, let’s run you a bath, yeah? I’ll start it and fetch you some water, okay baby? You just stay there and be pretty for me, let me take care of you.”

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Old Tricks - P3

A/N: Now I can’t stop writing…

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ themes, fluff.

Find Part 1 & Part 2 here ;)

.

Your husband was missing. Again.

And right after promising that he wouldn’t be late for movie night.

Movie nights. Something you had designated every once in a while complete with buttery popcorn and candy and lots of fluffy pillows and blankets.

Sighing, you finished your glass of wine while his lay untouched and made your way downstairs where he was probably killing his back over some invention.

As suspected, there he was, deep in conversation with his virtual best friend, FRIDAY. You hadn’t decided whether to let this go or go up to him and remind him of what he’d missed. It didn’t hurt you because you had lived with the man long enough to understand he never did it on purpose.

Curiosity had gotten the better of you when you squinted to see what he was up to, watching your husband scroll through pictures that resembled…sex toys?

“Let’s keep the face plate easily retractable too, the wife has a thing for neck kisses and so do I.”

Tony murmured, mostly to himself but he made amendments to the project in front of him, fingers gliding over the keyboard to put his words into actuality. He had lost track of time but only because it was directed towards a little present he had been working on, for you.

Unknown to him, you were standing back within earshot, watching him work with a mixture of shock and amusement on your face.

“I mean, I know Y/N loves coming on my fingers just as much. Maybe we could tweak the suit? Add additional modes on the vibrators too.”

Sure, boss.

Blush crept up your cheeks as his words fell on your ears, it was as if he was discussing any other modification to be done to his Iron Man suits. You tiptoed inside, not wanting to announce your presence just yet as Tony Stark - the successor of Stark Industries, genius inventor, world-renown superhero and philanthropist continued his back and forth with the AI.

You watched as prototypes holograms of his suit showed up, the alterations he spoke about highlighted along with detailed description of its features. The man ran his fingers through his hair, leaving them a glorious mess before walked around the table as if to get a whole 360 view.

Clearing your throat finally, you stifled a laugh as your husband jumped with a hand over his heart.

“Jesus Christ! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Chuckling, you wrapped your arms around the man and reached up to give him a soft kiss. He sighed and hugged you, rubbing your back gently.

“You know among the things I presumed you do down here, I never imagined I’d catch you doing this. I also didn’t realise we had branched out to Adults Toys R Us.” You giggled when Tony playfully slapped your butt, joining in your laughter.

“It was supposed to be a surprise and a silly little gift. For the countless dates I’ve missed, I’m sorry.” He stared at his feet, scratching the back of his neck almost nervously.

“So you’re making me an apology sex toy? You continue to amaze me, Mr. Stark.” You murmured, making him look up at you again before pressing your lips to his lightly.

The man truly was unbelievable.

“What did I miss?” He asked earnestly, guilt evidently reflecting in his brown eyes.

“Our movie night. But it’s okay, I won’t hold it against you. Especially not if promise to reveal what all of this is about.”

Chuckling lowly, Tony planted his head on your shoulder, letting out a tired sigh and a purr the moment your fingers ran through his hair, comforting him.

“Am I going to get a demo or what?” You turned towards his work station while still keeping your arms around him.

“Nope. It’s still a work in progress.” Tony shrugged, swiftly shutting down his work.

“Oh come on, Tony! At least tell me something about it, what does it look like, how do I use it—”

“Oh no, you’re not going to use it. I am.”

You frowned, coaxing him to continue, now that he’d really got your interest piqued. It wasn’t surprising that he would design something like this without involving an element of ‘him’ in it.

“You’re giving me a present that’s meant to be used by you? Hmm, I’m not so sure if I want it now..” you teased, welcoming Tony as he slotted himself between your legs, caging you in by placing both his arms on either side.

“Oh you want it, alright. I’ve made sure it’s everything you’d wished for and more.”

“Hmm.. I would like some more details before I decide how I feel about this present.” Your arms naturally found their way behind his neck, excitement already building deep within as your little banter continued.

“Well?”

“Let’s just say all of your suit kink prayers have been answered, Mrs. Stark.”

No smut just yet 🤭

[lettre-romantiques]

5#-> 💌: a letter has arrived from satoru gojo.

dear y/n.

heyy cutie.. i hope you like the gifts i got you. i know this isn’t the easiest way to communicate, but it's the only way right now. things have gotten.. complicated. i don't have much time to spare.

i’m writing this quickly and short, because things are moving fast, and i need to make sure you understand what’s going on. things are about to get messy, i know it, so i’m doing what i can to keep it all from falling apart.

the whole thing with the transport barrier and the crowd of civilians, none of that was going to be easy. but i didn’t.. fully expect this. i mean.. i did, but you know what i mean. i didn’t expect the king of cursed spirits to come together like this, or for the sheer fucking chaos that would unfold once sukuna was set loose.

and if anyone is going to deal with him, it’s got to be me. it always had to be me.

i’m doing this because it’s necessary, because i need to, and if anyone is going to deal with him, it’s got to be me. it’ll always be me. you’ll understand when the time comes. hopefully the students will explain.

i know you’ve always believed in me, hell, i’ve built my whole persona around being the unbeatable, invincible sorcerer. but i’ve learned something over the years: no matter how strong you are, no matter how much you try to control everything around you, there are things that will always get away from you. and i’ve come to terms with the fact that sukuna isn’t someone i can just 'neutralize' in the usual way. this time, it’s different. this fight’s different. and if i’m being honest, part of me knew that from the very beginning.

i’m sorry for the things i never told you. i’m sorry for the times i acted like everything was a joke, like i was invincible and nothing could hurt me. i didn’t want you to see how often i was just faking it, pretending like i had all the answers. the truth is, there were moments where i was terrified. terrified of the responsibility, terrified of what would happen if i ever failed. so i did what i always do, i covered it with jokes, with ridiculous stunts, and by being 'the strongest.' it was easier that way, wasn’t it? easier for me, easier for everyone else.

but i guess that’s where i was wrong. you deserved more than that. you deserved to see all the versions of me. so, for all the times i let you down, for all the times i acted like i wasn’t just as scared and confused as anyone else.. i’m sorry. really, i am.

the truth is, i’ve never really had a plan for how to handle all this. the higher-ups wanted me to handle everything, like i was some kind of god who could solve all their problems. but i’ve always known the world’s broken, y/n. it’s always been broken. and now, it’s my turn to do something about it. even if i don’t come back from this, at least i’ll know i gave it everything i had.

sukuna isn’t just some 'big bad guy' for me to beat. he’s the only thing standing in the way of everything. i can’t just let him continue. i can’t let him tear down what little everyone managed to hold down together. and if that means putting myself on the line.. then so be it. it’s what i have to do.

i don’t expect you to understand fully, but i need you to know this: if something happens, if i don’t make it back, just know that i’m okay with it. this was always the risk. i’ve always known that. but i want you to keep going. i want you to keep fighting. you’ve got the strength to carry on. i wouldn’t have left if I didn’t believe that, you already know that baby.

so, if something happens to me, if i don’t come back, please, don’t let it break you. keep going. keep fighting. and don’t forget that i did what i know was the best choice. i don’t have regrets about the choices i made. i just regret that it had to end this way.

i don’t know how to say goodbye, and i don’t want to. but whenever this is it, i need you to know that i love you more than i ever thought i could, i didn't really think i could love anyone after suguru. you were my greatest love. and i’m sorry i never got to say that to your face one last time.

anyways, i’m rambling now. just know this.. if i don’t make it back, i’m grateful for every second we had, for everything. you’ve meant more to me than you know.

from, your glorious blue eyed king.

p.s. take care of yourself. keep your head up. and don’t forget baby, i was the strongest. and i hope your heart will be the strongest to stomach all this.

[cmkren]

— a human’s touch

; house x gn! reader

Maybe in some other lifetime romanticism wasn’t lost to House. That he had grown into a man capable of giving clear-cut affections— and capable of receiving it as well. The first ever puzzle he never wanted to solve, and it was of his heart. You, on the other hand, couldn’t give a damn about it all. You tied yourself to him after all.

In your lap, maybe that fact of House’s could be forgotten. For an hour or two.

a/n: i’ve never written for house, or house md at all. Currently in s4, and I’m just so attached to this crowd of misfits. I’m sorry if he ends up ooc— I just wanted to write something as close to fluff as I can with house LMAO 😭

tws; nothing you wouldn’t find in the show — 1.08k words

“What, are we playing mommy and her sexually frustrated boytoy? I don’t recall putting this into the search bar.”

“I don’t think you’re young and spry enough to be playing the pool boy in this scenario. Take as much offence as you’d want to that shocking revelation.”

Despite the very particular banter, nothing nefarious was happening in this scene. It was quite normal actually. In the tidiness of his apartment the two steeped in each other’s presence. Steeped may have been a strange word for it, but it fit the two. House was chatty like always, but even now and then he had grown quiet. Either getting caught by a specific feature of his partner (still thick on his tongue, not something he ever says really) or deep in his own thoughts.

What prompted him to make the off handed remark? Some might ask, especially when they were having such a peaceful moment!

The obvious answer would be because he’s House. What else was he supposed to do? The not-so-obvious answer was the strange feeling in his chest, as his head lay against the thighs of the person he oh-so cautiously let pull him down to such a position. If he turned his head sideways, you’d most certainly feel the prick of his unkempt beard.

He flexes his fingers, arms sort of kept… limp. Close to his chest. The pale blue of his eyes looking up to the other, brow wrinkled into a furrow as he felt awkward. He only allowed himself to be so hesitant for a second more before he went slack jawed and widened his eyes— a mockery of coming to another ‘revelation’.

“Oh! Pray tell me then, what are we?” Spoken like a young teenager picking out lines from a rom-com they watched the day before to aid them in romantic endeavours. His arms even moving just the slightest to resemble a ‘gosh darn it!’ kind of movement. That garnered an amused noise out of you, your hand very gently resting atop his mess of hair.

“Not we, you. What you are, is a man who can’t even sit still and let me dote on you. So I resorted to,” your free hand gestured to him. Legs stretched and resting on the arm rest of his couch, his head comfortably in your lap, “this.”

Then it was House’s turn to give a little snort.

“What you’ve resorted to is crippling a cripple. Can’t move! Should I go dial 911? Or are you going to kick my legs from behind just as I reach my phone?” This time, there wasn’t any sort of sound akin to laughter. Instead, you gave the hairs atop his head a bit of a tug. A warning.

A grunt left him, his eye wincing a little from the sensation but his wit outran any sort of complaint, “Pineapple! Oh— right we aren’t doing anything like that.” He still shot you a half-hearted look. All the playing around didn’t get him anything but a gentle expression though, a soft look in your eye that said that you would put up with him more than he could ever dream of.

A look he’d seen, but never truly appreciated. He wasn’t quite sure if he did so, even now.

“I would tell you to stop being stupid, but I know I could never stop that.”

“Wow, thanks.”

The way you leaned down to give press a kiss atop his forehead spoke to the fact that you never meant any malice or exasperation in their words. Sure, there was bound to be exhaustion, everyone had breaking points. You were always so lenient with him. Even if you wouldn’t admit that yourself.

Suppose in a way, they understood each other like that.

House didn’t react much to the kiss. You gave a lot of those, so. He didn’t say anything though, so that was either a good indication or a bad indication. 50/50, who knows maybe you should flip a coin.

“Good day at the hospital?” You mumbled, slowly twirling the short strands on his head, coiling them around your fingers. House’s face visibly relaxed, only flexing and moving as he responded. “Oh, yeah, like Santa’s little workshop there. Bundle of joy, fun bright lights.” He muttered, eyes closing for a moment.

Everyone knew that his days were full of pain. He made sure everyone knew, actually. Always made sure that everyone had to be dragged down with him. With you though, he toned it down. Just a little bit.

Your hand caressed the side of his face, gliding down the rough surface and down his scraggly beard. Mindless shapes formed along his skin, his eyes trained on your face. Whether your face would contort the longer you looked at him. As if waiting for you to have a revelation of your own— that he wasn’t who you wanted to spend your time with. That’d you’d wake up soon. Wake up from the dream you seemed so content with, him in your lap and the carefulness of your gestures.

“Something on my face?” Your hand trailed back up to his cheekbone, before pinching the skin there. A smile on your face, for him. For a moment, he stayed silent. Lips that were once parted were now pursed into a tight line, furrow of his brows suggested that he was thinking again.

The longer you waited though, the lighter your touch became. As if you were drawing back. An end to a gentle moment.

“No,” his hands shot up, taking yours in his own. His eyes firm, before they would soften and close as he brought your hands to his face. “Keep it this way a little longer.” For once, not a quip. A moment of genuine love, one that came out of him thinking this was all but fleeting.

In reality, you hardly moved at all.

You were just going to shift, hopefully making him more comfortable if he had felt the position a little awkward. Instead he cradled your hands as if they were the one thing keeping him off his pills. Even just for a short amount of time. Your shoulders went lax, tilting your head as you gave a faint smile. “Okay.” Was all you said.

“I’d rather have you touch me than the old reliables here,” one of his hands let go, giving a bit of a jazzy shake as if to emphasize, “god knows I’ve touched myself enough. Your hands are softer.” You snorted.

“I don’t doubt it.”

[austeenbootler]

Y/n updates:

Liked by: y/n, Billie.eilish, Nicholas.a.chavez, Sabrina carpenter, towabird, 412k others.

Y/n updates: y/n first night of tour. Her new boo Nicholas Chavez spotted in the crowd!

User: oh gos someone check on Nicholas please.

Billie.eilish: excuse me I was there too

- y/n: my biggest fan I love you 😚🖤

- Billie.wife.: omg y/n x Billie collab when?!

- y/n: 🤫

User 67: god she’s beautiful. Is Nicholas okay?!

- nicholas.a.chavez: I am not. Had to be taken out on a stretcher

- user 98: so real 😫

~~~~~~~~

nicholas.a.chavez:

Liked by: y/n, Sabrina carpenter, Billie.Eilish, real_cooper, 298k others

nicholas.a.chavez: the prettiest view.

It’s been 365 days together. 365 days of laughs, cries and everything in between. There’s no one else I want to spend it with. You’re the love of my life y/n and I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us.

Forever yours.

Your Nicky poo🫡

The

Real_cooper: I’m gonna tell you right now he was cringing writing that the sign off.

- nicholas.a.chavez: hush 😭🫣

Y/n: Nicholas I just ruined my makeup!! I love you so much 😭🥺🖤

- nicholas.a.chavez: aweeee baby im sorry 😔

Sabrina carpenter: my parents 🩵😫

- user 97: real!

User 67: god I love you.

Billie.eilish: brb moving in

- y/n: your room is ready 🖤

~~~~~~~~

Y/n:

Liked by: nicholas.a.chavez, Billie.eilish, Sabrina carpenter, real_cooper, 213k others

Y/n: everyone shut up it’s our anniversary!! God I can’t believe we’ve been together for a whole year. I am so grateful to call you mine. You’ve shown me true love. Here’s to many more!

Yours forever

Y/n 🖤

Real_cooper: I kid you not he burst into tears on our break.

- y/n: no fucking way. Give him a kiss for me 🥺

- nicholas.a.chavez: I want your kiss 🙃

- y/n: later

User67: god I love love.

User87: my parents fr!

Billie.eilish: goals fr 🥹

Y/n: also he’s mad I kicked his ass in the game.

- nicholas.a.chavez: I let you win 😔

- y/n: whatever helps you sleep at night.

~~~~~~

Y/n story:

“He got me a puppy. Brb crying 😭”

_________

These are fun 🤩

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Can you please write a classic trope of reader overhearing black album/load James calling her “clingy”? Like guys in the band joke about it and he is fed up? So she stops coming over to studios and bringing food over, stops asking him to pick her up from work, if he wants to go to a bar, she always has a “headache”? Maybe it’s not until Bob Rock mentions that he likes when she’s over cause James always does a better job in her presence? - that’s when he gets that something is off???

I hope you like it❤

Hurtful Word

The studio has that same familiar smell—beer, lingering cigarette smoke, and the electric hum of amps running hot. I balance a bag with burgers and a beer as I push open the door, knowing James has been holed up here for hours. I just wanted to show up, bring him something he’d actually eat, something other than junk food and coffee. It’s a small thing, but I’ve always thought it meant something.

But as soon as I walk in, Lars glances over and smirks at Kirk. Their eyes flick to me, exchanging that look they always get when they’re about to make a joke.

“Damn, man,” Lars says, his voice loud enough to carry. “You got yourself a personal chef now? Can’t even get a sandwich without her delivering it?”

Kirk snickers, crossing his arms. “Yeah, dude, she’s here more than we are. Got a whole support team working for you, huh?”

The teasing makes my chest tighten, but I keep my head high, hoping James will laugh it off. But instead of a joke or a roll of his eyes, he glances at me, looks away, and mutters, “You don’t need to keep doing this. It’s kinda… clingy.”

Clingy. The word slices through me, and I freeze. I don’t even hear the guys teasing him further because the room goes silent in my head. Clingy.

Lars laughs. “Oh, she’s clingy now?” he grins. “Better watch out, man, she might end up moving in next.”

“Yeah, at least keep some space, Hetfield,” Kirk chimes in. “You don’t want to be tied down yet.”

My smile falters. I feel my face heat, and I force myself to nod. “Right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to hover.” My voice is too tight, too fake. I turn to leave quickly, wanting to get out before anyone can say anything else.

I don’t even make it to the door before I hear James mutter something, but it’s too late. I’m already out.

____

James Hetfield POV

The next few days are strange. She’s not at the studio, hasn’t called, hasn’t stopped by. When I wanted to go at bar she said that she had a headache. I figured at first she’d just been busy. But by the second day, I realize it’s more than that. She’s actively keeping her distance. I try to shake it off, thinking it’s just her way of taking some space, but there’s an unease gnawing at me.

My concentration is shot. The guys are noticing. I can’t get anything right during practice.

Bob Rock finally pulls me aside one evening, looking at me like he knows something’s wrong.

“You okay, James?” Bob asks, his tone casual but concerned. “You’ve been off the last couple of days. It’s like something’s not clicking.”

I rub my face, trying to avoid admitting it. “Just tired, man. It’s been a long couple of sessions.”

Bob gives me a look, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I get it. But, uh... I’ve noticed something, and I’m gonna be blunt with you, alright?”

I look up, a little surprised. “What’s that?”

Bob leans in slightly, his voice dropping. “When she’s here, when she’s around, you play better. Hell, the band’s tighter, too. There’s something about the way you focus when she’s here, like she brings out the best in you. But now that she’s gone... it’s like you’ve lost your spark.”

I stare at Bob, the words hitting harder than I expected. She makes me better? I never thought of it that way. But Bob’s right. Every time she showed up with lunch or a little note, I’d felt more grounded. More centered. The music flowed easier. And now? It’s like the fire’s gone out. The sessions feel lifeless. I’ve been distracted, unfocused.

Suddenly, I feel a deep pang of regret. I hadn’t realized how much she was actually keeping me grounded, how much her quiet presence affected me. I’d taken her for granted, pushed her away with my stupid, careless words. I can’t take it anymore. Not the silence. Not the distance between us. I’ve been calling her all week, and every time, it goes straight to voicemail. It’s eating me alive. I don’t care how bad I fucked up—I need to fix this. I need to see her, to hear her, to make sure she knows that I’m sorry. 

I jump in the car, my hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly. My thoughts are a jumbled mess. “Clingy” I said that word to her. And now I can't stop hearing it echoing in my head. The guys had joked, but I could see it in her eyes—she wasn’t laughing. I pushed her away, and now I can’t reach her. 

I don’t even think as I pull up to her building. I park quickly, my heart pounding in my chest, and rush to the door. My breath catches in my throat as I knock, then ring the doorbell. There’s no answer. I knock again, harder this time, and then… nothing. 

I press my ear against the door, and I hear movement inside. My stomach tightens. I don’t know if it’s hope or desperation, but I feel the overwhelming need to be with her, to fix what’s broken.

Finally, the door opens just enough for her face to peek through. Her eyes are tired, and she looks… fragile. Like she’s been holding herself together, but just barely.

I swallow hard. “Can we talk?” My voice cracks a little, betraying the anxiety twisting in my gut. “I need to talk to you.”

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even step aside at first. For a second, I think she might slam the door in my face. But then she opens it wider, just enough to let me in. I walk past her, my heart hammering in my chest, and she follows me in silence.

The air between us is thick—heavy with everything that hasn’t been said. I turn around to face her, and for a moment, I can’t find the words. The look on her face… It breaks me. It’s like she’s shutting down, like she’s already made up her mind to walk away.

“I was stupid,” I blurt, the words tumbling out faster than I can control. “I shouldn’t have said that. "Clingy". What the hell was I thinking? You’re not clingy. You’re—God, I don’t even know how to fix this. I can’t take it back, but I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

She just stands there, her eyes cold and distant. I hate it. I hate seeing her like this—like she doesn’t care anymore. The silence between us stretches out, making the weight of what I said feel heavier than ever.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Her voice is quieter than I expect, almost like a whisper. “You made me feel like I was too much. Like I wasn’t even wanted. I was just trying to be there for you, and you… you pushed me away. In front of the guys, James. You made me feel like a joke.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I can see it now—how badly I hurt her. How wrong I was. She’s standing there, so small, her shoulders slumped like she’s carrying the weight of everything I’ve said. 

I feel my chest tightening, my throat burning. “I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean to do that. You’ve never been too much, not for me. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re everything to me, and I—God, I don’t even know how I got so fucking stupid.”

I take a step toward her, my hand reaching out, but she pulls back slightly. “I don’t know if you even understand how much you hurt me,” she says, her voice shaking now. “You made me feel like I was suffocating you. And I can’t keep trying if you’re not going to see me. If you don’t want me around…”

The words trail off, and I can hear the tears in her voice. My heart shatters, and before I even realize it, I’m moving toward her, pulling her into my arms.

“I didn’t mean it,” I say, my voice breaking. “I don’t ever want to hurt you. I was a fucking idiot, okay? Please, don’t walk away from me.”

She stands still for a moment, then gives in, her body relaxing as she buries her face in my chest. I feel the wetness of her tears against my shirt, and it kills me. I never wanted to make her feel like this. Never.

“I miss you,” I whisper, holding her tighter. “I need you. Please don’t leave me.”

Her hands clutch the front of my shirt, and for a moment, we’re both just standing there, tangled up in the mess of emotions between us. The silence is raw, but it feels real.

She pulls back slightly, just enough to look me in the eyes. “You’ve gotta promise me, James. Promise me you’ll never do this again. That I’m not just some fucking joke to you.”

“I promise,” I say, my voice steady now. “I swear to you, I’ll never make you feel that way again. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize what I had until I almost lost it.”

And then, suddenly, I feel the need to say something else. Something that’s been weighing on me for a while. I pull her back into my arms, my hands gripping her tightly as I press my lips to her hair. “You know, I always appreciated you showing up at the studio. I never said it, but you always brought something with you—something that helped me focus.

When you’re there, I can think clearer, the music just comes to me better. It’s like I’m myself again, you know? And when you weren’t around these last couple of days, I realized how much I’ve been taking you for granted. I need you there. Not just because I like having you close, but because you make me better.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, but I feel her body soften against mine. “I didn’t know that,” she whispers.

“I should have told you sooner,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I need you in my life. Not just in the studio, but everywhere.”

Her hand rests gently on my chest. “I need you too, James. But you’ve gotta prove it.”

“I will,” I promise, brushing my lips against her forehead. “Every day, I’ll show you.”

We stand there in the quiet of her apartment, the weight of everything between us slowly lifting. For the first time in days, I feel a sense of peace. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know that as long as I don’t let her go again, we’ll find our way through it together.

[peachhcs]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachhcs/766739881092415488/httpswwwtumblrcompeachhcs766558720067043328

okay okay thank god that talked kinda finally!!!

ahhh another part your spoiling us !!!

part 8!! let me know if we wanna continue and how i should take this side plot if we do want it to continue on or leave it here bc technically will and samy have resolved their minor conflict LOL

au masterlist

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

samy was at home for a few days after emailing her professors that she hurt her shoulder and was a bit immobile when it came to typing and trying to write. it was nice being in her own bed in the comfort of her own room, but boy did she not miss having her mom all over her every second of the day.

ellen poked her head into samy’s room probably ever fifteen minutes as if her daughter’s state had changed since she last checked-in. samy knew she meant well, but sometimes it felt like she couldn’t even breathe without her mom asking if she was okay.

“it’s because you’re the baby of the family,” jack teased when him and quinn called to check-in that afternoon. the girl rolled her eyes.

“is this how you felt when you broke your shoulder?” she mumbled while the older brunette laughed.

“yeah, basically. she’ll baby any of us when something’s wrong, but you more because you’re the youngest.”

“it’s so annoying. i can’t even like..do anything without her down my neck,” samy huffed.

“yeah, sorry squirt. how are you otherwise?” jack wondered.

“i’m fine, i guess. disappointed. sad. bored. in pain.”

“when do you think you’ll play again?” quinn wondered.

“i’m hoping before the championships start, but it depends on how i heal,” the younger girl explained and the older boys nodded.

“crossing my fingers for you then. that girl was so fucking annoying with the way she played. can’t believe she didn’t get a red card,” jack shook his head in frustration.

“tell me about it, but it’s whatever. can’t do anything about it now,” samy shrugged with her good arm.

meanwhile, will had just gotten into michigan and was downstairs saying hi to ellen and jim. he’d been conversing with luke all morning who went to pick the blonde up without samy’s knowledge.

“it’s so good to see you, will. how have you been?” ellen gushed, excited to see her “fourth” son.

“i’ve been pretty good. it’s good to see you guys too,” will smiled.

“samy’s upstairs. she might be talking to her brothers, but you can go knock,” ellen grinned as she pushed the boy to the stairs. he flushed a bit, waving awkwardly before slowly making his way up.

samy’s door was closed and he could hear her soft voice coming from inside. for some reason, will was nervous. what if she didn’t want him here? what if she told him to go home? what if she didn’t want to see him?

will shook himself from the negative thoughts. he couldn’t think like that. it was samy. his girlfriend. she’d never say those things to him he carefully lifted his hand and tapped three times against the hardwood.

“mom, i promise i’m fine since the last time you asked,” samy called from inside and will heard sounds of quinn and jack laughing.

the blonde smiled a bit as he slowly pushed the door open. samy rolled her eyes that her mom didn’t take the hint until she caught a familiar mop of blonde curls and her boyfriend’s face instead of her mom’s. the brunette’s eyes widened and the shock washed over her that he was standing 10 feet from her bed.

“holy shit. w-will?” samy pushed her computer down her legs, swinging them over the bed and took three big strides towards him.

the blonde embraced her as best as he could without hurting her. samy hugged him tightly, drowning in his scent and familiarity. she couldn't believe he was here in her bedroom.

"hi, baby," the blonde hummed while fully melting into her arms.

"what are you doing here? why are you here? aren't you supposed to be in san jose right now?" samy pushed all of her questions as she stepped out of the boy's embrace much to his dismay.

"i wanted to come see you and check in on you after surgery," will explained with a half smile.

"aren't you gonna get in trouble for just skipping practice?" she couldn't believe that will would skip practice just to come see her, especially now that he was in the nhl.

"i mean, probably," the blonde shrugged like he didn't care which took the girl by surprise.

"you don't care? you're not gonna get to play or something."

"i mean, i do, but i care more about you. i wanted to make sure you knew that and knew you'll never be a burden to me," will cupped her cheeks and tilted her face up to his.

samy's expression softened at her boyfriend's admission, "you ditched practice and risked getting in trouble just for me?"

"i did and i always will for you. running lines and being forced to do conditioning is not as worse as making you think you'd be too much for me or something again. i love you and i'm sorry you thought that," will frowned making samy frown too.

"i love you too, will. i'm sorry again i didn't call sooner," samy said and all will did was lean down to press a sweet kiss to her lips.

they melted into one another, savoring the feeling of their lips pressed together after being a part for so long. when they pulled away the mood felt a lot lighter in the room and so did the smiles.

"glad to have you here for a weekend. anything is better than my mom babying me 24/7," the two shared a laugh.

"don't worry, i'll 100% be babying you," will grinned as samy pulled him towards her bed to cuddle for a bit.

they got under the covers while the brunette reached for the remote to turn something onto the tv. will's big arms wrapped themselves around the girl, squeezing her close as he could without hurting her shoulder. once they landed on a tv show for the time being, samy snuggled in closer and let herself finally completely relax. she breathed will in—the scent of his cologne and laundry detergent filling her nose and quickly putting her to sleep.

[itsnathateasy]

Natt your headcannons are so cute and I desperately need comfort right now🙏 of course you write best with Armin... but can I beg you to write hcs for Erwin and a child/child-figure reader? maybe the rest of the veterans too, I love them so much</3

(although, honestly, Armin is so clearly Erwin's favorite lolol. hed be the kind of dad to very non-subtly talk to Armin about his kid who just so happens to be around the same age like a grandma trying to get her grandkid a partner...)

hi lydia! right into the hormones with this ask! i’m not apologising for wanting an Erwin daddy (for myself tehe😈) (i'm so glad you're enjoying the hcs so far!🫂 thanks for taking the time to read them!)

sorry for taking ages to write this, i've been all over the place lately and these headcanons have been my sole consolation!

warnings: mentions of pregnant reader in the beginning, otherwise mostly fluff! also, this is in a canonverse!

word count: 1,9k

So if you and Erwin had a kid, you’ve literally nothing to worry about. He’s a good daddy (to the both of you😈). He’s the best paternal figure for your kid and an amazing partner.

The moment you told Erwin you’re pregnant, you felt as if your entire world had collapsed. He literally couldn’t have appeared any more disinterested. Sure, he was tired from his mission, but… Didn’t you deserve some attention? All you got was a “That’s amazing sweetheart, I’m so proud of you” and a peck on the temple, before he returned to his newspaper. You were so upset and decided to get some sleep because, if you didn’t, he wouldn’t make it out of the house alive. Truth be told, he was probably trying to conceal his panic. He was going to be a dad!

To your surprise, you woke up to Erwin emptying your laundry room, measuring the walls, windows, door etc. “Just making sure this is a proper room for an infant. Won’t you take a look at those colour and fabric catalogues? I’ve marked a few choices I liked” you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. A man of action, indeed!

The first time Erwin saw your baby he was so conscious with his actions, scared to death that he might hurt them unintentionally. “Just support their head and torso and… You’re doing great!” you said as you fully let go of your baby in his strong arms. “This is so… God, y/n… This is the best day of my entire life!” This was the only time you ever witnessed the commander sobbing.

(This is genderless of course BUT I feel that Erwin would KILL for a son, but then he gets a daughter and goes all “I’ll make you a strong, independent woman”, you feel me? Back to the genderless kid now!)

Erwin is a tough love kind of person. While this still applies to him as a dad, you’ve seen tremendous change in him. He’s so caring and giving to your child, you almost don’t recognise him at first. (Although as the kid grows up, he kinda goes back to being more of a tough love type of guy, but mostly to teach them the value of hard work or something) (the type of dad to teach them a bunch of things, whether the kid likes it or not!)

I mean, if your kid isn’t doing their homework, Erwin will of course try to get to the bottom of things. “Why don’t you want to study today? Is something wrong at school?” but he’s also the dad to “Listen, I can plant the knowledge in your head, but I can’t make it sprout for you. You have to study on your own as well and you need to pay attention to your teachers. I’ll be in the living room if you’ve more questions”.

Erwin is the dad to plan Sundays in nature. Although he adores the sound of you and your kid playing indoors, while he’s reading his paper, he does love to actively spend time with you. He believes every outdoor activity is a great chance to teach you both some new skills, so do expect him to show you (and your toddler) how to chop wood. “Erwin, they’re three years old” “They need to know about these things, y/n. When I was their age, my dad made me carry the logs all the way home too” “You’re not making our three-year old carry logs Erwin” you protested with a slight glare. “I’m not making our three-year old carry logs, sweetheart”, surrendering with a smile.

While Erwin is more of a traditional dad, I don’t think this applies to how he sees you or his participation in housework and childcare. He’s traditional because he wants to teach your kid values and nurture them into a decent human being. That’s why he makes extra sure to help you fold clothes, clear the dining table etc. Especially if your kid is watching you. He’s trying to set the best possible example. If your kid is old enough to participate in chores, Erwin makes sure they do. “Chores are something we share. It’s like when dad’s on a mission with his team. Every team member has an important role to play. Our role inside the house is to make sure that the chores are completed.” It’s a good thing he was so attentive to the kid as he spoke, because you were on the verge of tears. Where did you even get this man?

He’s also traditional in the sense that he wants to be the provider. He’s the man to make a fuss when you say you want to get back to work, but he also respects you enough to recognise that you have to make your own choices on these matters.

Erwin is so big on rules, it’s almost annoying sometimes. “Why are you still in your pyjamas?” (even on a Saturday!) type of rules. Also, “There’s no dessert, if you don’t finish your lunch. Do you think your mother is obligated to cook for you? We should support mum, show her we’re grateful for all she does for us, not make her life miserable. Eat your peas, then we can all enjoy some pudding”.

“Same goes for mum. Mum has to finish her plate AND her pudding, so she can get some rest.” He gave you a playful smirk, knowing how you were desperate for a nap after your long day.

I KNOW IT IN MY BONES that Erwin is a sucker for activities he considers “smart”. Playing chess, reading books, solving puzzles and crosswords, that kind of games. He also tries to make up his own mind games. He thinks this is the best way to keep your kid’s mind as sharp as possible.

(He also makes them ACTUALLY strategise with him smh… He says that “a fresh, unbiased mind can share a fresh, unbiased perspective”. He’s always super impressed by the comments your child shares with him and how complex those comments become as they mature).

“Dad, how did you and mum meet?” You and Erwin exchange a look at the unexpected question. “Let me demonstrate...” he walked closer to you and held your hand in his. “Erwin we can’t really… Demonstrate this...” You admitted shyly, cheeks blushing, recalling one of your very first dates. “We’ll only demonstrate the suitable for work details, such as...” you inhaled sharply as he slammed you on his torso “How I asked you to dance with me and you didn’t know how to, so you kept stepping on my toes” “It’s not true Erwin! Don’t perpetuate the lie!” You couldn’t hold back your laughter at the sweet memory. “Dad, dad! Did mum go like this on your toes?” then proceeded to give him the worst toe-stepping experience of his life, as they stepped down on him with all of their force.

“The little devil almost threw my nails out! Can you believe how strong they are already?” He said rubbing his sore toes. “That was karma, Erwin, delivered to you in the best way possible!”

“When can I go out on my own dad?” “When you’re tall enough to reach things from the top shelf for your mother. Now go back to your studying.”

When your kid is sick, Erwin kinda loses it. Not in a hectic or panicky way. Mostly, he doesn’t know how to care for a sick person. He’s used to taking the sick or injured people to the infirmary, but how do care for a tiny person?

“Calm down, Erwin! It’s just a cold! Think of yourself. What do YOU do when you’re sick?” “I- Uhm...” He considered this for a while, deep in thought, his fist supporting his chin. “I don’t do anything, y/n. I’ve only ever been to the infirmary due to injuries” “You’re insufferable Erwin” you giggled as you showed him to your medicine cabinet. “They still weigh around sixty pounds. You pop one of these bad boys” you pointed to the painkillers, making the pills jiggle inside their paper box as you continued, “and you have to make sure they’ve eaten beforehand. It helps to drink some water as they swallow the pill. Take their temperature every few hours, make them drink some water, and that’s it!” All this time, his eyes were glued on yours, taking in every single thing you said. “Am I a bad father for not having attending to my sick kid before?” he questioned, eyes still deep in thought, obviously upset by his absence from your kid’s life. “You provide for us. And you risk your life for our entire community, every single day you’re not with us.” You said and touched your arm to his shoulder. “It’s no easy task. Besides, you’re here now and you’re here as often as you’re able too. You’re here for what’s important, trust me.” You explained earnestly. “You still do most of the work though, y/n. It’s not fair. You shouldn’t be doing this on your own.” “I’m not on my own now, am I?”

He really questions himself when it comes to finding a balance between work and family. I know it in my heart that he's doing his best for his precious family!

Erwin intervenes. A whole lot. “What is this book you’re reading?” “Do you have your eyes on any special lady/gentleman?” “Why didn’t you get the highest score in your class?”. Sometimes, he really puts too much pressure on your child. You have to pull him aside and explain that “You can’t control what another person does. Let them be themselves. They’re doing so well already, they’re just… Not as obsessed with succeeding in everything as you” you said and smirked at him. “I’m not obsessed, I’m just the best, y/n! Did you think I became the commander on accident?” He protested, in an almost defensive way, his hand on his chest. “I’m only saying, they don’t have to be as successful as you. They’re good enough and they’re doing their own thing. Let them be and don’t project on them.” He gave you a look as if he saw you for the first time. “Do you think I’m acting like my father, y/n?” (THE PANIC IN HIS VOICE!!)

When your kid receives a medal or does well in whatever they’re interested in, Erwin is the most proud dad to ever exist on the planet. His face is actually glowing and he’s boasting way more than the kid themselves. “I think they took after my sense of discipline. Look how far they’ve come y/n!” “Of course they take after you, Erwin! You’ve taught them so much!” “They wouldn’t be who they are without you, sweetheart.”

BONUS (when the child is 16+)

I do agree that Erwin is the type of person to try and introduce his kid to his favourite scouts. It’s also no secret that Erwin has a liking to Armin. A first, he’s not so sure that Armin is a good candidate for his offspring, as he used to be this timid, small boy. But as time passes, Erwin sees the brilliant mind and strategist that is Armin, he’s got to secure him, you know??

He’d make sure the offspring attends any formal ceremonies as an attempt to get these two to interact. Once he’s finally introduced them to one another, he tries so desperately to put in a good word here and there. It’s funny, because neither Armin or your kid has realised Erwin is doing this on purpose. “Can you not play match maker Erwin? Aren’t you a bit old for this?” “You don’t understand sweetheart. Armin’s a real catch! He’s going to be a commander after I retire, I’m sure! We just need to keep a close eye on him!”

[dia-oro]

Imagine referring to The Chain as your 'wifes'

And they would carry proud that tittle! You all just have to do is love them and be there for them in their moments that old ghost visit their minds, because what better than be love by someone that will stay in the down as in their up? time was raise by the forest spirit child’s, do you think this man know what the difference from wife to husband? He will take it at stride being your dear wife and your rock to stay ground when you feel like falling apart by just the most gentle breezed. Also he come with a bonus, because how no to love malon? She now call you both her precious wife’s. (And you been your knees at malon supremacy) if wars try to correct you just put ‘male’ in from of the wife and he done for, he will even Pratt that he your male wife, heck he will be competitive with sky and twilight for seeing how more male wife material of the three of them (only if poly chain) of no well, he still will talk about you to every-fucking-one even with the help of wind he will have photos of you and will show it at times and call himself a lucky man (sorry Lana, the best person win him) and Zelda and impa are just ‘good for him’ aplaude his dedication, now wars attention to the conference!. blame wars that now he ‘male wife’ but for you twilight will just smile and let you call him wifey, just let the wifey one for private moments between the two of you. Need a hug but can’t say it? Your wife twilight will be at your side as wolfy confronting in silence you as you always did in the twilight hours.

legend, legend legend… he will snark, he will give these roll of eyes like is his job, but the moment he think somebody is messing with you? Someone made you cry? Hurt you feelings? He will proclaim very loudly that he your wife and that whoever did make you even let a little tear will know these boots are no only to got faster, they kick ass good to.

I hope you know that sky just like time come with a bonus, what does is feel that when you say it the first think he did is write Zelda because finally happened! You admit you’re theirs (well, you call him wifey! That counts right?) because he have been talking to his girl very serious of these feeling at Zelda at the moment she see you she know you’re their, call it Hylia, destiny or just you’re so special to her and to her beloved that must be that you’re make for them! Congrats, your human blood is probably still in some hero’s and they survive so much shite because of it, don’t think to deep of it or that some Zelda’s did have your blood no only the goddess in their body. four… if you see him freeze for like 15 minutes is like no because you did wrong but because the colors are going rampant, blue never will admit it but he very fluttered by it, vio may say ‘but I’m a man’ but do you think he really mind?? You better be prepare for him planing the pretties ring just for you, green is trying to control red, red is gone gone like for a fucking second you can be sure they lost him, but now he okay and planning the wedding even he was trying to convince vio and blue of they using a dress for making it the whole wife thing more official. do you understand you just call a Fae your wife right? Half or not, you’re now spouses in his mind, there’s no going back so live a happy ever after with your man, now you have in all Eras many sisters in law, he will try his best to make his world the best for you, he will there to help his Zelda to make the world you live and breathe one that one day world living.

My dear, wild, well, wild is doing a flip in the air giving twilight a heart attack right now, do you think he even know what gender mean? Do you see some of the clothes he use?? All he know is now he your wife and will make sure no blood moon , nail polish or even ganon follower ruined your day, he wild take you to ride his best Horse, present you to the lord of the mountain, give you his best food to make, best piece, you’re now his dear spouse in his mind, now yes he didn’t even remember how someone marry so he pretty sure you just call your beloved either ‘husband’ or ‘wife’ and done, you can’t unmake this dear.

[belleishavingamentalbreakdown]

Majid Llileh everyone!

ok soooo this post has been long overdue! I know I have a very small following on tumblr however a lot of individuals interact with my posts in regards to my interests such as DCU and even my blogs about being a Catholic 🤍

However, if you don’t know I am of proud Lebanese decent! I can speak Arabic quite well however I cannot read or write which is something I want to learn! My heritage is something I love, it is the one thing I would never change about myself alongside my faith being placed in Christ.

And with this pride comes the need to speak up for my home and my family and the other innocent people placed in danger, suffering and those who have passed away and now rest in eternal peace with Christ.

What is happening in Lebanon right now is not acceptable, it is appalling and is a complete disregard for human life, heritage, culture, history and environmental conditions.

My home is not a ground for Israel or any country to bomb or take advantage.

My home is not a bombing site nor a shooting ground.

My home is not a news headline.

My home is not the next big article or statistic.

My home, my family are not just some statistic or one number from the millions that are in danger or hurt or been killed.

My home is my home.

If you don’t stand with Lebanon than there is a problem. My family of Christian CATHOLIC decent who like myself are proud Catholics are not and should not be targets for Israel and Hamas and Hezbollahs war and destruction. Others who are of Muslim or Druze decent are NOT targets for any war or destruction. I understand religious aspects of this war play into and I respect that but people need to wake up; innocent Christians, Muslims, Druze and even Nonbelievers are dying and being hurt because of this war.

Innocent people are dying, my innocent family are in danger. Alongside my friends families and my community. They are not just a story you see behind your screen, they are real people with lives, ambitions and dreams. They deserve to live safely like myself and you all.

I thank God my family live currently in the north of Lebanon and have not been tremendously affected by the war but there is an unspoken anxiety knowing that I may go to bed one day and wake up to my grandmothers home being hit by a missile or even destroyed as the results of a violent attack.

To all the individuals who have been affected by the war, I’m so so so so sorry. My words can’t express how deeply I feel for you. I’m praying for you all and I love each and every one of you. I pray your families are safe and healthy, I pray that God brings Lebanon and the Lebanese out of this mess safely.

No matter what religion we all bleed the same colour and my condolences go to each person who is suffering because of this war. Its not only Lebanon but Palestine and all countries in danger or war.

This is not a joke and never will be.

My brothers and sisters deserve a good life, not one that is destroyed by the evil of the world.

Pray for Palestine 🇵🇸

Pray for Lebanon 🇱🇧

Pray for Congo 🇨🇩

Pray for Sudan 🇸🇩

Pray for Syria 🇸🇾

Pray for Ukraine 🇺🇦

Spread the word, speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves. Be a voice for the less fortunate.

- love Belle