#like they finally got to close that chapter???

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - two (j.yh); section one

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 (*section one); (section two) | three | four 🔗read on ao3✨ across stardust pinterest board

note: i hope everyone enjoys this chapter. it's wildly fluffy and wildly romantic, and then deliciously smutty so i hope everyone enjoys.

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, suggestive language, allusions to a past ex who pressured her into things she wasn't ready for, anxiety etc., and finally the smut; heavy makeouts, grinding, oral f!receiving, convos about oral m!receiving, lots of fingering, lots of cock touching, earth shattering soulmate sex, rough sex, soft!dom/pleasure!dom yunho and wide eyed sub!reader, heavy on the dirty talk, HEAVY on the praise. we got a lot of good girls in this one, and good god tagging for gratuitous use of pet names from yunho. lots of missionary and missionary adjacent positions, spooning sex to idk he's on his back and she's on top but laying on him it's hard to describe but by god is it hot please enjoy

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 28.1k

**this part was too long for tumblr's new word count guidelines! please check out the second half of this part, here!

The tour ends in Paris of all places. After weeks of concealing your growing relationship with Yunho from everyone, it feels like the universe is rubbing salt in the wound bringing you to the so-called city of love. 

For weeks as you hopped city to city, a whirlwind of language and culture and food, you found yourself living for the quiet, stolen moments with him. Quick visits to each other’s hotel rooms and even faster kisses, but never a full night. He hugged you briefly in Amsterdam, left a single rose on your station in Rome, bought you a cashmere scarf in London when the weather took a turn. You catalog these moments in your memory, and scribble down musings in your travel journal, and try not to judge yourself for saving every little scrap of your secret relationship down to the gift receipt in the bottom of the bag and one of the rose petals (pressed dry between the pages of your latest read). 

Paris feels different though. Everywhere you look there are couples snuggled close in the winter chill, and though you aren’t necessarily one for public displays of affection, seeing it like this makes your heart ache. You’d at least like the option. But despite his little gifts, you and Yunho have been doing your best to be subtle, mitigating even the smallest glances, and getting to know him over text. It wasn’t enough, but you could cope, until now. Until this city. You weren’t supposed to walk through a city this romantic alone, not when your soulmate was a few blocks away in a hotel room. You were supposed to be with him.

He feels your ache though, and you feel his. 

Besides, it’s almost, almost over. 

In Paris, you all have an extra two days to account for the end of the tour and flights home, and the electric energy of being almost finished and almost home has everyone buzzing. The members are jittery with anticipation but so is the staff, so close to being back home and in the arms of their loved ones and with a belly full of Korean food. 

On the last show, after soundcheck runs perfectly smoothly and the pre-show rituals have all been checked off without a hitch, it goes to shit. Venue delays, an issue outside getting the fans inside, leaving the stadium only half full at the call time. 

It’s not the first time this has happened of course, but it is the first time for this tour and to have it happen on the last day leaves everyone groaning. 

“They couldn’t tell us this twenty minutes ago?” Hongjoong asks one of your production team.

They had been moments away from starting the introduction lights and music, the boys had already gotten up onto their rising platforms when a member of the venue staff had jogged all the way backstage waving her arms and trying to explain in a mix of French and English that they had to wait. 

“They said thirty minutes,” The staff member replies, “we won’t have to make any cuts, but anything over an hour we’ll need to start,” 

“Fuck,” Hongjoong’s jaw tightens, “Sorry, I apologize,” 

The boys are gathered tightly around management and the production staff and you, Iseul, and the other members of makeup and hair step forwards to listen in. 

You can’t quite catch all of the conversation, but then there’s some nodding in the center circle and Sunhee, the head of tour production, turns and addresses everyone as they shuffle into a semi-circle around him, “Alright, we’re running on a thirty delay,” 

Everyone nods.

 “If we hit 60, we’re electing to cut Deja Vu, Silver Light, DLWB, and Eternal Sunshine,” He explains, “We’ll shift Wave into the 8th block behind Dreamy Day, yes?” 

Everyone nods again. 

“That’s a setup we’re already prepared for, correct?” He addresses the sound team who nods, and then looks to every other team who follows suit before he continues, “If we need to cut more, we need to be prepared for a lot of small changes. It’s possible we lose Win and Fireworks, and that’s not something we want to do. Everyone needs to be on strict standby until we get rolling, I don’t want to be looking for anyone in the bathroom or finding out someone stepped out for a smoke, clear?” 

There’s a chorus of responses. 

“If you need a break, do it in the next five. Every ten until lights, we’re right here.” He’s a clear, no nonsense leader, but everyone has their marching orders. 

The group breaks up after that, several staff hurrying off to the bathrooms now and a couple of the BB Trippin dancers slipping out the back access door for a cigarette. 

The members are talking amongst themselves in a tighter circle, planning choreography changes and ment changes to tighten up the time, and you try your best to not look at Yunho for more than a passing glance. His back is to you, and you ache to reach out and see how he’s doing, ease the bubble of stress you feel in your gut, but you can’t. 

Iseul bumps you gently with her hip and nods her head back towards your stations. Dahan and Eunji are back, thankfully, having gotten over Covid fairly quickly and started testing negative, and the four of you huddle up to do your own planning session. 

“This doesn’t change much for us except how fast we work,” Iseul says, “we can make some strategic cuts around the unit stages too, no added eye enhancements, keep the focus on skin, lips, and brows.” 

“Done,” Dahan nods and then settles back into the chair at her station, “I don’t think there’s much more we can do,” 

Iseul nods, “It’s not a makeup heavy set,” 

Eunji collapses into her own chair and pops open an energy drink, “That just means their foundation has to look better,” 

“They look good,” You assure her, “and lord knows we use enough setting spray,” 

Eunji laughs and takes a swig of her drink, her carefully manicured nails clicking against the aluminum can as drops it back down on the table, “Hmm,” her leg bounces nervously, “we should check them again,” 

“They’re fine,” Iseul says, “plus, wardrobe has them.” 

You look back up, and sure enough the wardrobe team is fluttering around them as they talk, taking every opportunity to re-steam a jacket or fix a pant hemline. 

You lean back against the long table of snacks and water bottles along the one white wall and watch the chaos, your fingers drumming restlessly along the lip of the table. 

“Hey!” One of the wardrobe staff leaps forwards and you look up, “Don’t sit on the couch, I’ll just have to press those pants again!”

Wooyoung leaps up from the couch and groans, “Sorry, sorry,” 

“Let me check you,” She inspects his pants with a sharp gaze, “these crease too easily,” 

Wooyoung cracks a joke you don’t hear, but everyone within earshot is laughing and you smile at the scene. You’ve all worked together for so long it really does feel a bit like family. 

Staff starts to gather back up, and Sunhee makes another clear announcement, “Still running on a thirty,” 

Everyone echoes back their understanding. 

Now there’s nothing to do but wait. Chewing the inside of your lip you fish your phone out of your brush belt pocket and idly scroll, flicking through photo after photo on Instagram and barely absorbing any of it. 

A body shifts in your periphery and you look up to see Yunho, leaning on the table next to you but leaving an appropriate amount of space between your bodies. His head is angled away from you, talking animatedly to San about something, and though you know he’s ignoring you on purpose you also know he sat here for a reason. 

Your chest warms, and so does his. 

Feeling him this close feels like you’re standing in a rising tide, the sensation of him filling the space around you so wholly and completely, and you know if you were to just surrender to it would carry you right out to sea. 

San’s eyes flick to yours, “What about you?” 

You blink, “Hmm?” You might have been looking in their direction but not a single word made it into your brain. 

San’s eyebrow quirks up in amusement, “That dance challenge with Bada, have you seen it?” 

“Oh,” You nod, realizing what trend they’re talking about on Tiktok, “yeah, for sure, it’s everywhere right now,” 

“I’m trying to get Yunho to do it with me,” He explains, “it’s cool right? I think we’d kill it,” 

Yunho swivels his head to look in your direction and your stomach flips and you fight to keep your face somewhat professional and neutral when you nod, “It’s definitely cool, a lot of idols are doing it, you should,” 

“Well,” He smiles, his expression warm, “I guess I’ll have to,” 

San snorts softly, and you wonder briefly if he involved you in the conversation because he knew Yunho would cave if you said something. 

The moment is short though, when Wooyoung cuts between San and Yunho, “Budge over I need a water,” 

Yunho slides to the side just a few inches, but it’s enough to feel the heat of his body from shoulder to thigh as he gets closer to you and your breath quickens. Even after a few weeks, his proximity still makes you feel a dizzy kind of elation and you swallow tightly to keep your own reactions under wraps. 

“You good?” Yunho’s focused on Wooyoung’s serious expression though. 

“My calf keeps cramping,” He complains, uncapping a water bottle and locating a packet of electrolytes to pour into it. 

“You need to stretch,” San says, “drink that and come here,” 

Wooyoung grumbles something and Yunho chuckles. 

“Yeah, yeah,” San rolls his eyes, “don’t complain when you know I’m right,” 

“Fine,” Wooyoung downs the water bottle, drinking half of it in three thirsty gulps and then spins on his heel to follow San to the far wall that’s empty. 

For a moment, Yunho doesn’t move. 

You stay frozen in place, unsure of exactly what to do, if you should move or if you should let him move, but he makes the decision for you. 

The back of his knuckles brush along yours for just a moment, and then he’s up again and walking towards his members. Your heart flutters, and you’re sure he can feel it with the way he looks at you, just one quick glance back before he starts stretching again with Wooyoung and San. 

You’ll have to add that one to your notes then, he brushed your hand in Paris. 

Blissfully, they announce again that the delay is only going to be thirty minutes. No cuts to the show, no panic. In ten minutes everything will start and you’ll be one step closer to home.

In the wings at the new call time, you prep them again with a final pat of powder, smoothing out any whisper of a pore. When they move past you, Yunho’s hand brushes yours again, and you wonder if he knows he’s doing it. It feels unconscious the way he gravitates towards you, and though he keeps the contact decidedly subtle, you can feel the way his nervousness eases with just a touch of your skin on his. 

You watch him as he jogs out to the stage risers, you can’t quite tear your eyes away. He’s so handsome, so commanding of the stage, so unlike the soft, gentle man you’ve come to know off screen. You’re starting to really love them both, or perhaps you already do, and quietly you send him as much warmth and confidence through the link as you can. 

His eyes flick over to the wings, a flash of a smile on his lips, but then he refocuses and adjusts his in-ears, and the risers lift into the roar of the crowd once again. 

Your eyes track him as he goes up, and sensation bursts through the link from his side, only this time it doesn’t take you down to your knees. You’ve gotten used to it the past few shows, and now it just rings in your body like background noise. 

A hand closes around your forearm and pulls, yanking you out of your dazed thoughts, and you whirl to catch Iseul’s serious expression.

“Come with me,” She murmurs lowly, “right now.” 

Your stomach twists but you keep the panic to a minimum, you can’t do this to him again. Following her to the backstage door, she grabs her coat and tugs it on and throws you yours. She tugs you outside before you can even properly get your arms through the sleeves and you yank your arm back, “What’s going on?” 

“You’re asking me?” She says quietly even though the stage door is shut tight and there’s no one in sight, “Are you kidding?” 

She shoves a hand into her pocket and fishes out a pack of cigarettes, ones that she usually only smokes after a few drinks, “I started to think in Amsterdam that it was one of them,” 

Your stomach sinks like a stone. 

She sparks the lighter and leans in to light the smoke, “You were watching them differently,” 

“Iseul,” 

“But, I guess it’s Yunho, isn’t it?” She takes a drag and levels you with a serious expression. 

“Please,” You don’t even know what you’re begging for, she’s your best friend, but the fear of the unknown still crushes your chest, “don’t,” 

“He watches you too,” She says, “I wasn’t sure at first, he’s always been friendly with us, but this is different,” 

“I don’t know what to say,” You manage. 

“How about you don’t lie to your best friend,” She takes another drag, “that would be a good start,” 

“It’s not what you think,” You step closer. 

“I don’t think you know what I think,” 

“Iseul,” You wrap your arms around yourself. 

“Fine,” She tips the ash off the end of the cigarette and pushes her pin straight hair back over her shoulder, “I’ll tell you what I think,” 

You stay silent, stomach tight. 

“You’ve been weird,” She says, “I’ve never seen you act like this over a guy, and I really doubt you just noticed him for the first time, so either you’re an excellent liar or you’re in love with him,” 

You blanch. 

“And if you’re in love with him,” She points out, “so suddenly after years, then there’s more to it. So I started paying attention,” 

She takes a long drag of her cigarette and sighs out the smoke. 

“You’ve been sneaking off,” She points out, “checking your phone constantly,” 

Your eyes flick down to the pavement. 

“But the weirdest part,” She says, “is that you’ve been changing in the bathroom and we’ve been friends for years. I’ve seen your tits like a hundred times,” 

Your head snaps up. 

“You’ve been too happy lately for it to be something bad,” She says, her voice softening a bit, “so it’s something good, something like your mark changing.” 

”Iseul,” Your voice comes out weakly. 

“Fuck,” She looks over your expression, “he’s your soulmate,” 

“We didn’t know,” You stumble through the words, “I swear, we didn’t,” 

“I believe you,” She nods, “I just want to know why you couldn’t tell me. I’m your best friend, I would have helped you, I wouldn’t… I would never tell anyone,” 

“I know,” You reach for her, “I know you wouldn’t do that.” 

“Then why?” She pulls her wrist from your touch and ashes her cigarette again, “Because it really hurts that you couldn’t trust me with this.” 

“It’s not that,” You press, and it pours out of you, “we don’t even know what we’re doing. It’s really overwhelming, everything I’m feeling and he’s feeling, and then there’s the contracts and the job and the fucking public, and I just… I don’t know what to do, we don’t know what to do. We decided to wait until we got back to Korea to figure it out properly,” 

She nods. 

“I was going to tell you as soon as I got the nerve up,” You promise, “I haven’t even called Hana,” 

Her eyes widen at the confession that you haven’t told your sister after weeks, “Babe,” 

“If you know,” You manage, “and she knows, then it’s happening, and I,” 

Iseul flicks her cigarette to the curb and throws her arms around you, tugging you close for a hug, “Oh, you nervous idiot,” 

“I promise,” You hug her back, “I was going to tell you,” 

“Don’t you want it to be real?” She murmurs the question, “It’s your soulmate,” 

“I do,” You nod, “I want him, it’s just,” 

She rubs your back as you sigh.

”It could be easier,” You finally admit, “if he wasn’t who he is, then it would be simple.” 

She nods and pulls back from the hug, giving you a final squeeze, “Simple’s for fairytales,” 

“I guess,” 

“We’ll work it out,” She nods, “I’ll help.”

“I should have told you weeks ago,” You confess. 

“Probably,” She nods, “I would have helped cover for you at least,” 

You smile, “Yeah?” 

“Totally,” She nods. 

You sigh into the cold air, your breath making a cloud of vapor. 

She pushes her hands into her coat pockets and then stops, “Who else knows?” 

“San, he saw it when we touched,” You tell her and her eyes widen, “and Seonghwa… he found us in bed that morning in Berlin,” 

“I’ll be mad about them knowing before me later,” Her nose crinkles, “but that’s good, let’s keep the circle small for now.” 

“Definitely,” You nod, “we want to tell people, but just not… it’s better at home,” 

She chews the inside of her lip, sighing and pulling out another cigarette, “You haven’t slept together?” 

“Not yet,” 

As she lights the second cigarette her eyebrow quirks up, “So you’re just tormenting yourselves for fun, or?” 

Iseul was, without a doubt, the biggest believer in soulmates you’ve ever met. Everyone in her family was lucky enough to have found their match young, from her parents to her siblings, but she’s been waiting. Out of anyone without a soulmate though, she knew exactly how difficult the time between initial touch and fulfillment of the bond was. 

“We nearly did,” 

“And?” She takes a drag.

“He wanted to do it right,” You explain, your cheeks heating.

She nods, “He seems like that type,” 

Your gut tightens and you exhale, “I was also a little terrified,” 

“You and relationships,” 

“This is different,” You cross your arms.

 Iseul smirks at your sudden defensiveness, “I know it is,” she says, “but it’s still freaking you out, obviously,” 

“It was,” You admit, “maybe it is, but not in the way you’re thinking.” The logistics have you stressed beyond belief, but him? Those fears have been fading fast since that first night.

 “So, you do love him,” She smiles, flicking away her half smoked cigarette.

All you can do is nod. 

Iseul softens at that, after so many years of friendship and watching each other try relationships on for size. Every almost match that withered into nothing, every missed connection, every late night wondering. 

“I’m happy for you both,” She says earnestly, reaching for the door and clearing her throat to shove away the emotion there, “but I swear if you lie to me again,” 

You laugh, “Got it.” 

She punches in the key code to the door and twists the handle when it goes green, but then she stops short, “Listen, we’ll talk about the rest later, but you’ve got to tone it down with him in there. No more longing looks, no more little touches, if I saw you someone else will too.” 

Your stomach twists, “Fuck,” 

“It’s fine,” She says, “I was looking for it, but eventually someone’s going to notice.” 

“Okay, you’re right” You nod. 

“Let’s get back in there,” She pulls the door back open and you stumble inside. 

Everyone is gathering up again for the first costume change, and you do your best to shake off the conversation. Iseul squeezes your shoulder once, and then slips back to her station like nothing ever happened. 

You don’t look at him again the rest of the show. 

Iseul’s warning lives in your mind and you try to keep some distance. You give him the same polite congratulations on the tour that you give to every member, ignoring the little crease between his brows when he realizes you’re being funny. 

At the team dinner, you keep to the far side of the table and keep the soju to a minimum. 

You ignore the buzzing phone in your pocket and his quick glances. 

Iseul keeps you busy, keeps you steady.

You don’t let yourself look at the text messages on your phone until you’re back in your hotel room and able to finally relax. A string of texts from him make your heart twist. 

everything alright?

you seem tense, did something happen during the show?

alright now i know you’re avoiding me….. jagi, what did i do? tell me so i can fix whatever it is

you look so beautiful tonight, i wish i was across the table from you. i wish we didn’t have to hide this. i wish you’d tell me what’s wrong so i can make it better. 

let me know you get to your room safely. 

“You good?” Iseul asks as she flops back on her bed, “You look freaked,” 

“Yunho,” You pass her the phone so she can see for herself. 

She skims the messages quietly, one eyebrow raising, “Girl,” she looks up at you, “I said be subtle, not emotionally terrify your new boyfriend,” 

Your cheeks heat, “He’s not my boyfriend,” 

“Yeah he is,” Iseul rolls her eyes and tosses your phone back, “and the sooner you accept that this is good for you, the sooner you can get a handle on this with him and actually make a plan,” 

Chewing the inside of your lip you sink down onto the edge of your own bed, “I keep fucking this up,” 

She shakes her head, “You’re fine, but you’re also wound so tight some strings are bound to break. Call him,” 

“He’s probably so pissed at me,” You breathe.

 “He’s probably worried,” She counters, “but babe, he’s not any of your shitty exes. At some point you have to stop being scared that every guy is going to break your heart, especially this one.” 

“Ouch,” You grimace at her words. 

“Am I wrong?” 

You sigh heavily and run a hand through your hair, of course she wasn’t wrong. Iseul had watched you couple up time and time again only for it to be another failed attempt at not being alone. That combined with your only significant relationship being littered with gaslighting, cheating, and a truly terrible sex life meant she wouldn’t let you settle, or let a good thing pass you by just because of your anxiety and less than stellar history with the opposite sex. 

“Call him,” She interrupts your thoughts again. 

You swallow tightly, but at her unwavering gaze you finally look down and press the call button next to his contact picture, pressing the phone to your ear, your fingers drumming nervously on your knee. 

Yunho picks up on the second ring, “Baby?” 

He doesn’t sound mad at all, all you hear is relief in his voice and your shoulders drop, “Hey,” 

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” You hear the rustle of sheets on his side as he sits up. 

“Nothing,” You let out the air trapped in your chest, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry,” 

He’s quiet for a second, but then he speaks up, “I can feel your stress, y/n,” 

You wonder how heavily it’s pouring out of you for him to feel it so clearly through the link. 

He takes a slow breath and then continues, “If it’s something I did, I’d like to know so we can talk about it. If it’s something else, I’m here,” 

There’s a brush of warmth against your mark, and all your tension starts to melt, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Yunho, I promise.”

“Okay,” He murmurs, letting you know he’s listening, waiting for more. 

You look up and meet Iseul’s gaze. She nods at you, waving her hand towards you in a ‘get on with it’ motion, silently pushing you through this. 

“Iseul knows about us,” You tell him in a nervous exhale, “she noticed we were being familiar, that there was something going on,” 

Sheets rustle again and Yunho clears his throat, “Oh,” he says, “I mean, you’re friends aren’t you? Is she upset?”

You open your mouth to say more, but Iseul groans and pushes herself off the bed, snatching the phone from your ear and taking over the call. You jump up to grab it back, but she holds you back with one arm outstretched and a growing smile on her face.

 “Yunho?” She says, “It’s Iseul,” 

You hear a short response from Yunho, but you can’t make out the individual words he says.

 “Of course I’m not upset,” Iseul says, “I’m honestly really, really happy for you both, even if I had to figure it out myself,” 

You watch as Iseul listens to his reply and she laughs sharply. 

“Yeah, you two giving each other puppy eyes for the last few weeks was not subtle, no,”

Another beat, and you nudge her side, whispering, “Iseul,” 

“No, no,” She shakes her head and steps away from you to keep talking to him, “I told y/n this, but I was looking for it. She was acting weird so I knew something was up, but I just wanted you both to be careful in front of everyone,” 

Yunho says something you can’t hear and Iseul nods to herself.

”She’s okay,” Iseul looks back to you, a soft expression in her eyes now, “you’ll learn this, but she’s a little skittish.” 

“Iseul!” 

She rolls her eyes at you, but listens to him and nods again, “Listen,” she finally says, “I’m going to give the phone back to your girl, but before I do I just want to remind you that she’s my best friend. I think you’re a good guy, Yunho, but if you so much as make her cry, I’ll kill you. Clear?” 

His reply is short and she laughs.

 “Good,” Iseul grins, “she deserves someone good, and I know you can be that person for her.”

You reach out your hand for the phone again, needing to talk to him and pull your best friend back from whatever emotional speech she might let loose next. 

“I’m glad,” Iseul says, “now let me put y/n back on, I think she’s about to have an aneurism.” 

You can hear Yunho’s laugh as she passes back the phone and you take it eagerly, “Hi, god, I’m so sorry about that,” 

Iseul laughs and walks towards the bathroom to wind down and do her skincare and give you a brief moment of privacy, and you spin and walk towards the far end of the room near the window. 

“It’s fine,” Yunho sounds warm and not at all upset, “I’m glad you have a friend like her,” 

“Still,” You curl up into the armchair, “I didn’t mean to act so weird today or to corner you like this after such a long show,” 

“Don’t apologize,” He soothes you, “I know this is a lot, and Iseul’s right, we need to be careful if we want to do this the right way,” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, “still, I could have texted you and told you. I just got nervous,” 

“I know,” He murmurs, “but in the future, you don’t have to be alone in that. I’m your guy.” 

A smile tugs at your lips, “You are?” 

“Mhm,” He says softly, “you don’t have to handle anything alone anymore, jagi.”

Tightness sinks into your throat and you nod, pushing back the telltale sign of tears, “I’d like that,” 

“Good,” He murmurs, “now are you up for doing me a favor?” 

“A favor?” Your brow furrows, “What’s wrong?” 

“Not wrong,” He sounds so relaxed, so comfortable, and it puts you at ease, “but get your coat and map yourself to the location I’m sending you,” 

“What?” You laugh, feeling your phone buzz as his text comes through. 

“We’ll keep our distance,” He assures you, “but sweetheart, it’s snowing, and I am not missing the first snow with my soulmate in Paris,” he emphasizes, “so bundle up and get out here.” 

You pull the curtain to the side, and sure enough there’s snow swirling in the air, falling in soft fluffy flakes.

“Oh, wow,” You breathe, taking in how a white blanket has already started to thicken up on the streets outside. 

“Call me back when you get there,” He says, “okay?” 

“Yeah,” You smile, soft warmth spreading through your body, “I’m on my way,” 

You’re a whirlwind as you tug your coat back on, lacing up your boots and searching your bag for a pair of gloves. Iseul gives you one look when she sees you getting ready, but she smiles, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” 

“I won’t be long, I’m sure,” 

She shrugs, “Be safe,” 

“I will,” 

She searches for something on the side table and tosses it to you, a small black piece of fabric, “Mask, don’t forget,” 

“Got it,” You nod, affixing the mask to your face. The likelihood of you being photographed in Paris during a snowstorm when you weren’t even going to be next to Yunho was close to zero, but the risk wouldn’t be worth it. 

“Go get your man,” She arches her brow suggestively and you groan, rolling your eyes and darting out of the hotel room before she can embarrass you anymore. 

As quickly as you can, you map yourself to the pinned spot he sent and start walking. It’s hard to tell from the map, but as you get closer to the spot a few streets up from your hotel on the far side of the Seine you realize this is all it is, a street corner by the edge of the bridge. 

There’s barely anyone around, especially with the weather, and you can’t see Yunho anywhere. 

Tucking your coat closed around you, you find your phone and follow Yunho’s instructions. 

He picks up your call immediately, “You there?” he asks, his voice sounding a little muffled. 

“Yeah,” You breathe, looking around to see if you can spot him now, “Are you coming?” 

“I’m already here,” He says, “look up, across the river under the light by the steps,”

You step close to the stone railing at the edge of the river, and sure enough under the street lamp directly opposite your corner, Yunho stands unmistakably tall under the light. You can’t make out the details of him from this far away, the river is wide enough that he could be just about anyone at this distance, but then the figure waves. 

You can hear the smile in Yunho’s voice when he says, “Hi, baby,” 

“Hey,” You relax into the railing, your stomach flipping pleasantly. You’re still not used to the way he’s tender with you, his pet names and how easily he sunk into being soulmates, but you trust him. It doesn’t matter how fast or how hard you’re falling, despite those fluttering nerves, you know he’s going to catch you, you feel it. 

He hums pleasantly through the phone and you imagine him smiling, “Take a walk with me?” he asks brightly.

“Love to,” You murmur. 

“I have a surprise for you,” He says, “it’s just around the bend of the river,” 

“How did you have time to do anything? We just got to Paris last night,” The figure across the river starts to walk and so you follow, slowly making your way up the length of the river by the stone railing. 

“Don’t get too excited,” He laughs softly, “I didn’t do anything,” 

“Mhm,” The air is crisp and sharp, and you take in a deep breath, “I love snow,” 

“Me too,” 

“People always say I’m crazy, but I prefer winter over summer,” 

“I do too,” He says, and you can almost picture him smiling, “I hate the heat,” 

There’s a natural lull, a gentle pause in conversation, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You feel his presence with you as if he were walking right at your side, and it keeps you warmer than any scarf or padded coat. 

Finally, Yunho breaks the companionable silence, “I always try to take a long walk in a new city,” 

“Late night, like this?” You ask.

“It’s usually the only time I have,” He sighs, “I’m getting used to exploring places by street lamp,” 

“I’d like to actually explore here during the day,” You say, “I’ve always wanted to come here,” 

“Where else have you always wanted to go?” 

You step around a couple nestled close together near the wall and continue on, boots crunching on the layer of snow ahead of you, “Everywhere,” you admit, “but I don’t know, there’s more of America to see, and I’ve never been to Australia. Vietnam maybe, or, oh, Iceland, I’d like to see the northern lights.” 

“I’d love to take you there someday,” 

“Take another long walk in the snow,” You offer, glancing across the river. It takes you a moment to find him as you both pass through a busier spot, but you see him pass under another street lamp and your heart is back at ease. 

“y/n,” Yunho says after a beat, “are you sure you’re alright with Iseul knowing about us?” 

You swap your phone to your opposite hand, tucking your frozen fingers into your pocket and nod even though he can’t really see that from this far away, “I am, she’s my best friend, I should have just told her.” 

“I don’t think either one of us knows what we’re doing,” He reminds you, “and that’s okay.” 

“Mm,” You sigh, a heavy cloud of vapor blooming in the icy air, “I do know one thing,” 

“What’s that?” 

Your stomach flutters nervously, but you press on, “I haven’t felt this happy or this cared for in a long time,” 

He’s quiet for a moment, and then you hear his breath, “I feel the same way,” 

“I just want to be on the plane now,” You admit, “at least then we’d be almost home,” 

“Well,” He says, “don’t wish for it too soon,” 

“What do you,” You start to say but he swiftly cuts back in. 

“Look to your left, sweetheart,” He says warmly.

Your head snaps up, and you turn only to have the breath knocked out of you by this city yet again. There, across the river and beyond a large bridge in the distance is the Eiffel Tower, standing golden against the night sky. 

“Oh,” You breathe. 

“Wait for it,” He murmurs.

“What did you do?” You can’t stop yourself from grinning like a fool, but you expect that’s a common experience for tourists in love in this city. 

“I didn’t do anything,” He laughs, “I just got the timing right, just wait,” 

You step closer to the wide bridge, ornate with golden statues and arched to offer ferry boats passage underneath. All the while you keep your eyes locked to the tower, and blink away the dust of snow collecting on your eyelashes. 

“Yunho,” 

“Just,” He starts to say, his voice getting far away as if he moved the phone, “another minute,” 

You tuck your scarf up around your face and wait, and then it starts to glitter. Blocks away but still standing tall before you in the distance, the golden monument starts to sparkle with the fast flicker of silvery lights.

“Oh,” You breathe, “I didn’t think I’d see it,” 

“Mhm,” He murmurs, “you might have mentioned it in London,” 

“Did I?” You can’t tear your eyes away. 

“I’m sorry I can’t take you there properly,” He confesses, “or anywhere properly yet, but, someday I will,” 

The glittering stops and you finally look away to try and find him again across the bridge, only he’s closer now and walking directly along your side of the bridge towards you. Your feet are moving before you can convince yourself otherwise, a magnetic pull straight to him. 

The bridge is thankfully quiet, barely anyone on either side, and you both stop in the middle, both of your phones tucked into your respective pockets. 

“Hi,” His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles beneath his mask. 

“Hey,” You sigh, “should we be doing this?” 

“No one’s here,” He says, stepping closer, “just one minute,” 

You nod, “One minute,” 

“Listen,” He says, his hand brushing against yours again, “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too,” 

Your heartbeat quickens.

“But we are almost home,” He says, “and once we’re there, we will make a plan. We will make this work, and I promise you, I’m more afraid of losing you than of losing all this,” he gestures towards the city around you. 

“There’s got to be a way, other people who have done this,” You nod. 

“We’ll find out,” He assures you, “just please, don’t pull away from me when things get hard or if you’re afraid. You can rely on me, you can trust me, I swear to you, y/n.” 

You can feel the nervous knot in his chest, and you step close, resting a hand where you know his soulmark loops on his chest. When you let yourself feel him, focus on him, it’s clear to you just how anxious about your growing relationship he’s been. Soulmates or not you still have to walk the path together, and of the two of you, you’ve been less clear. His gestures, his gifts, the way he’s tried his best over the past few weeks to show you his true feelings and intentions, but you haven’t given him enough back to soothe that knot in his chest. 

“Baby,” The endearment slips out and you feel him soften under your touch, “I’m here, I’m with you. I’m so fucking terrified, but not of you or of this.” 

Snow sticks to his lashes, swirls in the air around you, but his exhale of ragged breath isn’t the cold, it’s relief. 

“I’m worried I’m going to fuck it up somehow, of what will happen when people find out,” You confess, “and I’m so scared you’ll wake up one day and realize I wasn’t worth the mess,” 

“y/n,” He shakes his head, reaching for your cheek. 

“I know, I know,” You catch his hand against your face, press a fast kiss to his palm through the fabric of your mask, “it’s just a fear, I just want you to understand where my head has been,” 

He nods, a little crease between his brows. 

“But I do trust you,” You tell him, “more than anyone, and I’ve been alone a long time, so I’m learning how to let myself rely on you, but I’ve never doubted you. Not before and definitely not now,” 

“Come here,” He tucks your bodies together and tugs his mask down, “kiss me,” 

You pull yours away, and you press up on your tiptoes to meet his eager mouth.

His nose is cold, and his fingers are icy against your cheek, but his lips are warm and soft and his broad body blocks the gust of wind and snow. 

The knot of anxiety in his chest starts to ease, and you brush your fingers over his mark to seal your own promise back to him. 

“Sweetheart, I,” He sighs, kissing you once more, letting his words fade on his tongue, “thank you.” 

“I’m sorry I haven’t said it like that before,” You say, “but I’m here,” 

He nods, a soft smile on his mouth, and he leans over to kiss you once more in the snowy Paris street, the golden glow of the Eiffel tower still in your periphery. 

When he pulls back, he rights his mask and you follow his lead, “It’s cold, let’s get back inside,” he says. 

You can barely feel it, but you nod, “Okay,” 

“Call me again,” He squeezes your hand once and then lets it drop, “I’ll walk you back,” 

You smile, finding your phone and dialing him. 

Yunho pulls his phone out, and starts to walk back across the bridge, but then he picks up, “Hello?” 

“Hey, again,” You walk backwards slowly, watching him as he tucks the phone closer to his ear. 

“Hi,” He says warmly, and then he turns to catch sight of you when he says, “I just met the prettiest girl in Paris,” 

Butterflies roll through you, “Oh, yeah?” 

“Mhm,” He murmurs, “I think I’m falling for her,” 

Easy warmth spreads through your chest despite the chill, “That’s so funny,” you tell him as you turn to round the corner of the bridge again, “I just met this guy,” 

He laughs, and slowly you make your way back to the hotel. The conversation comes more easily now, the lingering threads of any tension dissipating with the wind. You talk about everything and nothing, how to tell the members and what you’re planning to have for coffee in the morning, and by the time you’re at the hotel the snow has slowed to a stop and the streets are empty except for you both, two long-distance lovers across the Seine. 

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

The final day in Paris passes by in a blur just like the plane home. It’s always like this after a tour, the absolute exhaustion after weeks of adrenaline and travel, but this time all you want is to be home and it feels like you’re doing the epitome of just going through the motions to get there. 

Yunho had texted you to sleep well on the flight, and you did, only to be shaken awake hours and hours later by Iseul when you were preparing to land. You had only woken up for one of the flight meals and a quick bathroom break, but now as you descend into Incheon you’re itching to get out of the seat more than you normally would be.

 Home. 

You can see it out the window, but you can feel it too.

Up until this moment, everything with you and Yunho had been on a delay, the reality of what you were to each other only something to fully reckon with after the tour, and now here you were. 

Your fingers start to nervously drum against your knee as you prepare for landing, your heart picking up as you touch down, your leg bouncing in anticipation while the plane takes its time taxing to the gate. 

Iseul gives your hand a squeeze when you finally make it off the plane and into the interior of the airport, only this time it’s not to calm your nerves, it's to remind you that you have a role to play. Today the crowd is thick, rows and rows of screaming, clawing girls and you feel your heart rate pick up immediately. They’re not here for you, they could honestly care less about you, but you still have to make your way through them as quickly and painlessly as possible. 

The support staff is always split, half in front of the boys and half behind, an extra layer of bodies between them and the hands that so badly want to touch them. Girls that want their one moment, a quick press of skin on skin, seeking a confirmation of the bond they’re so convinced exists between them and their bias. It’s never bothered you before, just a hazard of being famous, but now you can’t help but feel like they know. One look at you and they can see right through all the careful lies, they can see your tattoo and his, a string knotted from your ribs to his, and you think they might kill you for it. It wouldn’t be the first time a deranged fan took things too far, and your stomach churns with every step as you leave the relative safety of the main gate. 

Getting from the plane to the cars is a well oiled production. You’re used to sticking close to your team and a set of the support staff, head down, hat low, moving swiftly. There’s not much you can do about it unless you happen to be on a different flight, which has happened a time or two while you’ve been working with Ateez but it’s rare. 

For weeks since you first felt the link between you and Yunho, you’ve been able to feel some echo of his emotions through the connection, but as you file off the plane and group up to start working through the crowd, the sensation of him goes quiet. You’ve seen the members as they walk, a crafted persona of friendliness over the full disassociation, but you never expected to feel some shadow of that yourself. Your nerves are swirling, but you take a few slow and steadying breaths, and alongside Iseul and the rest of your coworkers, you start walking. 

It should be quick, it should be painless, but it isn’t. 

Halfway to the doors, a body breaks through the guards to your side, making a desperate beeline for one of the boys behind you, the girl’s face streaked with tears and hands outstretched, her shoulder checking yours hard as she pushes her way through into the interior circle. 

You stumble hard, footing unsure on the slick linoleum, your heart pounding suddenly in your chest. 

You make a tight noise of surprise, hand outstretched to brace your fall as you collapse hard onto your left knee. Bodies bump into you on all sides, stumbling to not knock you over and trample you, but you still struggle to get your feet under you. 

It’s loud in here, the sudden sound of fans and bodyguards, but you feel a spike of alarm shoot through your gut as he comes back online and reacts to your fall. You can’t turn around, but you feel him, and then all at once there’s hands hooking under your arms and you’re stumbling back up to your feet. 

Yunho’s several paces back behind you, layers of bodies away, but despite that he lurches forwards, forgetting himself in the fray. There’s no cameras, no crowd, no thought of familiarity in his mind, only the singular truth that his soulmark is hurt and the need to get to you is all encompassing. A hard hand locks down on his bicep, another on his opposite shoulder. He has half a mind to throw whoever has him off, and then reality clicks back into place.

He watches as Iseul and one of the other managers hauls you back up to your feet while the bodyguards close ranks and remove the cloying girl. 

San, his hand still locked around Yunho’s arm, leans in tight to his ear, “She’s fine, don’t.” 

“You don’t,” Yunho starts to say but Seonghwa claps him on the shoulder again, squeezing him and trying to silently remind him the stakes here. 

“Look,” San urges him as they keep moving, “she’s up, use your head.” 

He focuses, and he watches the way you walk. Iseul is still pinned to your side but you’re not injured, just keeping your head down. He takes a tight breath and focuses on the feeling of the link, searching for your emotions under the bubbling rush of his own. 

Seonghwa’s hand falls away as the group makes it closer to the door, but San stays steady bracing Yunho’s bicep.

Yunho blinks and focuses, and then he feels you. Your own heart is beating fast, a blanket of anxiety mixed with discomfort and blushing embarrassment. There’s no fear though, no pain, and he shudders a sigh in relief. 

This kind of connection with another person is so singular and so maddening. He’s always cared for you, he would have wanted to help even if you weren’t his soulmate, but knowing that you are and feeling it all has him ready to tear the world apart for your smallest needs. He can understand now with perfect clarity why companies are so protective of skin on skin contact with their artists, why there’s no room for exceptions until positions are far more established. A young man with a soulmarked bond would ruin every scrap of his own career if it meant he could touch her, hold her, have her for just a moment. 

“Breathe,” San bids him, “you’re staring,” 

Yunho rips his eyes away from your back and looks to San, “It’s too much,” 

San gives him a wide, idol smile and shakes his head, “Cameras, Yunho,” 

He blinks and refocuses, finding his own photogenic smile and nodding towards the crowd. He waves, he nods, he does all the things a good little idol would do. 

Warmth brushes over his chest, the feeling of your fingers along the loops of your tattoo and the tight fist around his heart loosens, breath finally filling his lungs the right way. Silently, you’ve told him you’re safe, you’re well. He can breathe. 

You’re in separate cars though, and as you climb into the SUV with the rest of the makeup and hair staff, your hands start to shake. 

“You okay?” Iseul finally asks as the doors close. 

“Mm,” You sigh, leaning back into the soft seat, “I hate those crowds,” 

She nods, “Security should have never let that girl get through,” 

“She just pushed me aside,” You rub your tired eyes, “I can’t even believe someone would be that unhinged,” 

“Mhm,” Iseul rolls her eyes, “well, when it’s her one chance to see if her precious Yunho-ya is her star crossed soulmate,” 

A flicker of jealous anger sparks in your gut, “Is that who she was after?”

“Yeah,” A look of disgust passes over her face, “as if fate would actually match up an idol and a saesang, get real.” 

You laugh, and someone else makes a comment about how cruel it would be if that actually happened, but you and Iseul are sharing a private look. Of course none of those girls are his soulmark, not when you’re sitting right here. 

You shiver, you can’t stop thinking about the girl’s tear streaked face as she shoved you to the side. What would a fan like that think about you being her bias’s soulmate? You don’t even want to know. 

The car pulls away, and you feel your phone start to buzz in your pocket. You fish it out and keep it close so no one next to you can see the screen. 

Your body melts at the message. 

Are you hurt, jagiya? 

You tap out a quick reply, needing to not keep him waiting - I’m alright, it just startled me. 

Bubbles pop up immediately as he types - I’ll have a talk with security, there’s no reason for staff to be that close to the fans like that. Too risky. 

You’re in love with him already, it’s impossible not to be when he talks like this. You smile and write back - Don’t, we shouldn’t draw any attention. But it means a lot that you were worried about me. 

Of course I worry - His first message flies in, and then another - I felt you fall, I nearly ran to get to you. 

I’m glad you didn’t. We really can’t give anyone a reason to question things. 

I know. But I wanted to, I never want anything to keep me from you when you need me. 

Jeong Yunho…. - You write back, butterflies in your belly at his words - Are you trying to make me like you?

I thought we covered this, you don’t already like me? - You feel his warmth through the bond and you know he’s teasing. 

You know I do. - If you said more you’d probably reveal how far in this you already are after a few weeks of a bond. 

It takes a moment for him to respond, but when he does your cheeks heat - I’ll have to work harder then, to make sure you feel as strongly as I do.

Your mark warms, a punctuated touch of his heart to yours. 

Before you can reply he sends another message - You promise you’re not hurt at all? 

Embarrassed mostly, and my knee hurts a little, but I promise it’s nothing serious, I wouldn’t lie to you. - You reply, touching your mark gently with your fingers to send back the same warmth, the same truth of your words. 

When can I see you? I don’t think I can go days until our next schedule. 

Tonight? You can’t help yourself. 

Where? 

Your stomach flutters at the thought of being alone with him again - My place? I live alone in Seongsu. It’s nothing special, but it’s private and it’s home. 

Text me the address, I’ll find a way over. 

You tap out your address and send it through - Please don’t get in trouble trying to come by.

I won’t - He replies instantly.

  Iseul’s hand gently touches your knee and you look back up at her, “What’s up?” 

“You want a ride home from the office?” She asks, eyes flicking down at your phone briefly. 

“You don’t mind?” You ask. 

She shakes her head, “You’re on the way,” 

You nod, pulling your phone back out to send him a message - Iseul’s driving me home when we get to the office. Are you going to your apartment now?

Yes - He replies - Yeosang keeps yawning, when our managers leave and he goes to bed I’ll come by.

Aren’t you tired too? - You ask him. 

I slept on the plane - He replies, and then another message comes through - If you’re tired you can sleep, I just need to be with you right now.

I slept too - You assure him - I’ll be up. Just message me when you’re close.

I will - He says. 

You send him one last bit of instruction, a little safer if he can let himself into your place just in case anyone sees him coming by - It’s apartment 26B, Door Code is 10824*

He sends a heart in reply, and you tuck your phone back into your lap. 

Soon, you’d finally be alone. After weeks and weeks of waiting, the ache in your chest would finally be soothed.  

Even after Iseul drops you off at home, it takes him hours. By the time you get a message that he’s on his way you’ve nervously cleaned your tiny apartment three times over and ordered far too much take out just to be sure he has something to eat if he hasn’t gotten anything already. 

When you hear him keying your door code in, your heart starts to beat double time. 

He slips in quietly, dressed in a dark gray long coat, black ball cap, and black face mask, and if you didn’t know him just from the cut of his shoulders you could have easily mistaken him for just about anyone in a crowd. 

“Hey,” You feel at ease immediately, and he looks up at the sound of your voice. 

Your apartment amounts to a double wide hallway, your lofted bed above the entryway and bathroom, a small galley kitchenette along one wall, built-in storage and a desk, and then an extremely modest living space. The sight of him in your apartment is strange, he’s so tall he seems to fill up the space of the entryway, a surreal sight now that you’re home and not in random hotel rooms. 

He kicks off his shoes to leave them by the door, and then he steps up into your apartment as he pulls his mask off, crossing the room in three easy strides to get to you. 

“Hey,” He replies, his cold hands cupping your cheeks as he gets close, “there you are,” 

“Here I am,” You smile, stepping closer to him and relaxing into his touch.

 “I,” He shakes his head and his words falter a little, “I know you said you’re fine, I just… it’s nice to see for myself, I couldn’t shake that feeling,” 

You soften at that, “Oh, Yunho, I’m okay,” 

“I know,” He sighs, “I’m sorry it took me so long,” 

“It’s alright,” You slide your hands into his jacket and rest your hands on his chest, “you’re here now,” 

He folds you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you properly and cupping the back of your head with his broad hand, “I’m so glad to be home,” 

Your heart flutters, “The tour felt like years,” you murmur, nuzzling into his chest. 

“Mm,” He sighs, his body melting around you, “our managers wanted to talk about the upcoming week, and Hongjoong had schedule changes, and then Yeosang wouldn’t go to bed, he kept sitting in the living room, I thought I was going to scream,” 

”It’s fine,” You smile against his sweater, “do you have a schedule tomorrow, then?” 

“No,” He unfolds himself from around you, pulling his cap free and running a hand through his messy locks, “I’m off, I don’t have anywhere to be.” 

Warmth fills you, “For how many days?” 

“Three,” He grins. 

“Me too,”  

“Any plans?” He drops his hat and mask down onto your side table where your own keys and gloves are and steps close again.

”None,” You murmur, “sleeping,” 

“Want some company?” He wraps his hand around yours. 

“For three days?” Your eyes widen, “There’s no way you can get away for that long,” 

“I worked it out,” He says, “waiting for Yeosang to get tired,” 

“Okay,” You don’t want to let yourself be excited too soon. 

“I’ll have to go back and pick up a few things,” He tells you, “but I told my manager that my brother might be coming up to town to see me after tour,” 

“Okay,” 

”And that I might drive down to Gwangju with him,” He smiles wider, “and that he could drop me back off before schedules pick back up.” 

“Really?” Your hand tightens on his.

”Really,” He nods, “if you want me here, I’m here.” 

For a split second you feel like you could cry, relief washing through you, and you dive forward to wrap your arms around his neck, “Stay, please, stay,” 

He bends to accommodate your height difference, and ends up wrapping his arms around your back and lifting you in the air, “Good,” he sighs, “I hoped you’d say that,” 

“Yunho, thank you,” You pull back enough to find his face, “god, I missed you,” 

“Me too,” He confesses, “seeing you everyday but not really seeing you, I don’t want to do that again,” 

“It’s so much harder than I thought it would be,” 

He nods and gives you a soft smile, “We made it, though,” 

“Yeah,” 

He dips in and presses his lips to yours, and the last threads of tension unravel, everything else forgotten with his body so close to yours. Yunho sighs pleasantly, pressing close lipped, familiar kisses to your lips, before setting you back down on your feet and straightening back up to his full height. 

Your hearts feel like they’re in sync. 

He smiles at you again, and then finally glances around to take in the space around him, “Oh,” he says as he takes it in, “I like your place,” 

“It’s small,” You shrug, “but it works for me,” 

“That view,” He nods towards your floor to ceiling glass window, truly the only selling point of the apartment, “that’s something.” 

You follow his eyes to the glittering city outside and nod, “It really is,” 

It’s quiet for a moment as he takes in the view, and then he sighs and looks back to you, “It feels nice to not have to rush away,” 

You nod, “I know,” 

You’re dancing around each other again, now that there’s no deadline hanging over your heads or threat that someone might walk by. You can simply exist. 

“I’ve got takeout,” You offer, making the first move, “if you’re hungry, but if not it’ll keep,” 

He smiles, “In a bit,” 

“Let me take your coat at least,” You stretch out a hand, “get comfortable,” 

He slides it off his shoulders and folds it as he hands it to you, “Thanks,” 

You find a home for his coat in the entryway nestled on a hook next to yours, his shoes already placed neatly side by side with your sneakers. It looks so right, your life against his, and you let your fingers skate down over the back of his coat as you take it in, a smile pulling at your lips. He belongs here, in every way, and for the next three days you’d pretend his presence in your apartment was permanent, solid and immutable in the way it feels in your heart. 

His coat, his shoes, and in a flash you see it all, flickers of a real life together. Toothbrushes, coffee cups, letters in the mail, his keys kissing yours in a dish by the door, books slotted together on the shelf, clothes tangled up in the laundry basket. 

Your chest aches with need, but he just walked into your apartment for the first time, so you shake off those thoughts and turn to him, “What did you have in mind for tonight?” 

“Honestly,” He grins, “being able to talk to you face to face is as far as I let myself get,” 

“Way better than texting,” You smile back, “you want a drink? Beer? Wine?” 

“Sure,” He nods, “Beer?” 

You nod and take the two steps into the kitchenette to locate glasses and two cans of beer, calling over your shoulder, “Make yourself comfortable, are you sure you’re not hungry?”

”I’m okay,” You hear him settle onto the couch and it occurs to you that you’ve never had a man in your apartment, at least in the sense of a romantic partner. For years you were going to their places, strangely protective of your own little haven between these four walls, and yet with Yunho you feel comfortable enough already not just to let him inside, but to give him your door code without a thought.  

You blink at the realization, almost letting his glass overflow onto the countertop as you pour. How strange the last few weeks have been, how different you already are. 

“How long have you lived here?” Yunho asks, and you let the thoughts about what it all means fade into the background as you turn towards him. 

“Um,” You do the math in your head, “a few years? Almost four now,” 

“It’s a great place,” He says again. 

You leave the two empty cans on the counter and cross the room towards him, “Yeah,” you nod, “It’s small, but it’s nice and accessible, and in this area anyways I really can’t beat the rent,” 

“Mm,” He nods, “I wish I could say I know what you mean, but idol life is strange.” 

“That’s right,” You nod, “you don’t pay for your place?” 

You settle onto the small couch next to him as he answers, “It’s part of our contract so it’s provided, but if we were to leave the group before contracts are up we���d owe the money back,” 

You grimace, “That’s terrible,” 

He nods but it’s with a slight shrug, “Some companies are worse, KQ being small has its benefits in other areas so that’s never been much of a concern for us,” 

“That’s good at least,” You nod, “and they treat us pretty well, all things considered.” 

“Did you ever work anywhere else?” Yunho takes a sip of beer and makes a noise of satisfaction at the flavor. 

You smile and tuck your legs under you, angling towards him on the couch, “After cosmetology school I worked at SM for about a year,” 

“And?” He asks. 

“Awful,” You groan, “The pay was terrible, and the schedules were worse. It felt like being an intern,” 

“And then you came to KQ?” 

You sip your beer, nodding as you do, “Iseul and I went to school together, she got me in as soon as a position opened up, really vouched for me considering I had a smaller portfolio than she did at the time,” 

“I’m glad she did,” He smiles warmly.

 “What about you?” You ask, “Was KQ your first choice?” 

He turns towards you on the couch, his knees pressed against yours and he rests one arm on the back of your couch, “Not initially,” he admits, “but I had two other competing offers, and something just didn’t feel right about either. Then I met Hongjoong, and I guess you know, that’s it,” 

“A little bit of fate,” You smile. 

“Mm,” He nods, “fate, maybe luck, I don’t care what it was, I’m just happy to be with you now,” 

Your cheeks heat a little, and you look down at the popping bubbles on the surface of your drink.

”I just wish it happened sooner,” He admits, his hand sliding over the cushions to touch your forearm. 

You nod and look back up, “I know what you mean, but, maybe that’s another thing fate got right, maybe we’re finally ready for each other now.” 

He laughs, “What was the word Iseul used? Skittish?” 

You sigh, “Yeah, she’s not totally wrong. I used to have terrible taste in guys, or maybe I wasn’t comfortable opening up, I don’t know, but,” 

Yunho gives your arm a gentle squeeze, “I get it,” 

You cock your head, asking him a silent question. 

“I’ve dated a bit,” He explains, “and I always thought maybe it was me, but no matter how nice or compatible someone was on paper it was just…” 

“Dull?” You offer. 

He nods, “Like I was sleepwalking through it,” 

Your stomach bubbles with a nervous thrill, your chest constricting with anticipation, “And with me?” 

His mouth turns up in a small smile, eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips and back again, “I’m more than awake with you.” 

“Me too,” You confess.

It’s quiet for a moment, Yunho’s thumb sweeping a soft line over the veins in your wrist, and then he exhales and drops his glass off on the table.

“Yun?” 

He smiles at the abbreviation of his name and takes your glass away too, “As much as I want to talk all night, and I do, I think I might actually die if I’m not touching you after all these weeks,” 

He reaches for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you over to his half of the couch. You squeak in surprise, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest and another on the cushions, but you end up pressed up against him and almost laying across his chest. Your body relaxes into him instantly, and Yunho lets out a relieved sigh. This, this is what you had been waiting weeks and weeks to feel again, the sureness of his body under your fingertips, the way your heart seems to slow and soothe with every touch. 

 “Anyways,” His voice cracks a little, a soft smile on his face, “you were saying,” 

You’re nearly nose to nose, close enough to hear his breath, to feel the thump of his heart under your palm. His eyes flick over your face, his lips part, pupils dilating wider with every passing moment. 

You try to remember where you were in the conversation, but with him so close and his hot hands on you, it’s all like a distant memory and you laugh lightly, “I have no idea,” 

He grins, his hand brushing your face, the pad of his thumb tracing your cheekbone, and then without a single conscious thought you’re surging forwards to press your lips to his. 

Yunho groans, hands tightening on your back, and when he starts to kiss you back it’s like the catch of a match under your skin, a crackle of need through every nerve ending. He kisses you with unmasked urgency, pulling little pants and moans from your lips every time you break for a breath. 

His hands slide down, cupping your backside, and you hitch a leg over his as you push yourself higher on the couch, desperately seeking more of his hot mouth. 

“Baby,” He breathes between kisses, his tongue flicking against yours as your mouth opens to him.

 Your body rolls on instinct, pressing your clothed core against his thigh. 

He groans again, pulling your body tighter against him and shifting the position of his leg so that his foot is flat on the floor, providing a hard, stable straddle for you. 

You wish so badly in this moment you weren’t wearing jeans, uncomfortably stiff denim that doesn’t let you properly feel the heat of him, but that doesn’t stop you from rocking your body once, twice, and again as you pant against his mouth.

 His fingertips slip under the waistband of your jeans, resting on your lower back while his free hand wanders around to your front, sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb ghosting over your pebbled nipple. 

You feel dizzy, and you press back from his mouth to take a sharp inhale, “Ah, Yunho,” 

He shudders, cupping your neck and pulling you back to his mouth. Mumbled against your lips he offers, “We can talk more,” 

You shake your head, “You really want to talk, right now?” You smile, pushing yourself further onto his lap, nearly straddling him now as you dive back in for another heated kiss. 

He groans, his hands flexing as they find anchor points on your hips, and he tugs you right into place with your pelvis slotted right over his. One of his hands skims up the back of your shirt, hot skin on skin, and you moan pleasantly into his mouth. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He pants between wet kisses, “you’re killing me here,” 

“Yeah?” Your stomach flutters with butterflies. 

He hums a yes, tongue dipping into your mouth to catch on yours. 

You can’t stop the little whine that leaves your lips, “Oh,” you roll your hips, “Yunho,” 

His hips twitch under you, and you can feel the start of his erection as it hardens under your ass. 

“Please,” You kiss him again, pushing your hips down and clinging onto his shoulders. 

His hand snakes up higher under your shirt, and his fingers deftly close over the clasp of your bra. In a second he slides the fabric in just the right way to open the clasp, and you feel the support release as his hand slides up and down the bare expanse of your back. 

“Fuck,” He shudders, “I’m sorry, I should have asked,” 

“Shut up,” You dive back in, your fingers tugging at his sweater, “take this off,” 

He kisses you hard once more and then pulls back, and you lean away still perched on his lap while he awkwardly tugs off the sweater, tossing it to the other side of your couch. 

“Can I,” His hands slide under your shirt, circling your bare waist, his eyes tracking the way your shirt slides up, “Jesus, you’re gorgeous,” 

“Off,” You raise your arms and he slides his hands up, pushing the shirt up and over your head until he’s discarding it on the floor. 

When you look back down it nearly knocks the breath out of you. He’s staring at you like you’re a marvel, like you’re the eighth wonder of the world, and it draws your frantic pace to a blinding halt. He smiles softly, and his eyes skate down your body. Your bare neck, black bra straps loosely held on either shoulder, tattoos stretching down over your upper arms, over your elbows, stopping at mid forearm. The sheer mesh of your bra loosely cupping your breasts, nipples standing hard at attention through the fabric and the center of the underwire covering the top half of your red, looping soulmark. 

He reaches for you slowly this time, one hand sliding to the back of your neck while the other skims up and down your arm, “Can I?” He asks again, his fingers ghosting over the strap of your bra. 

You nod, breathless. 

He hooks his fingers under one side and pulls, letting the strap drop and the mesh cup falls slack. His adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and slowly he loosens the other strap, your bra falling away and landing in your laps. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest now, and your fingers tighten on the fabric of his crisp white t-shirt. 

“So beautiful, baby,” He sighs, looking back up to your eyes, “you’re so perfect,” 

You can’t find any words, the way he looks at you and touches you has you rooted to the spot. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He slides his hands over your skin, still stroking your back and sides. 

That snaps you back into reality, and you dip forwards to crash your mouth to his. 

His arms wrap around you as yours knot into his hair, both of you a panting mess as you cling to each other on your sofa. Your bodies move in sync, his hands pressing just right as you roll your hips, only this time you can feel the hot press of his cock on your cunt through layers of fabric and you both moan at the contact. 

“Yunho,” You exhale sharply, rocking again to try and catch more sensation. 

“Jesus,” He pants, his hands locking down harder. 

You shudder at the contact, and you’re about two seconds away from begging him to take you right here on the couch when he puts the brakes back on. 

His hand slides up to catch your cheek, pushing your hair back and drawing your face away from his so he can look up at you, “y/n,” he says, voice a little hoarse, “that time on the phone,” 

You nearly moan at the memory of your silent orgasm, his voice in your ear, but you manage to nod. 

“DId you,” He starts and then backtracks, “I mean, you didn’t mind, or I guess what I’m asking is you weren’t, you know, uncomfortable,” 

His cheeks are turning pink as he talks, and you have half a mind to let him muddle through the thought, but you want his mouth on yours again and you cut him off, “You mean the best orgasm I’ve had in years?” 

He blushes properly then, his ears a frighteningly dark shade of pink and he clears his throat, “So you liked it?” 

Warmth blooms in your chest and you smile, leaning closer to him, your fingers tangling into his hair again, “Yunho,” you murmur, “are you asking if you can boss me around a little?” 

You’re nose to nose again, and his eyes search yours, “A little,” he concedes. 

“Boss away,” You grin, pressing your lips back to his, but he shakes his head. 

“Slow down,” He catches your hands in his and closes them together, pulling you back from him. 

Your brow knits together, “I’m getting mixed messages,” you glance down at your bare chest.  

His eyes flick to your breasts and back up and he huffs a soft laugh, “Sorry,” he manages, “I just meant we should talk,” 

“So much talk with you,” You tease him lightly, “I think I liked the kissing,” 

“Think?” His eyebrow quirks but then he shakes his head, “You’re a flirt, you do a hell of a job distracting me,” 

“Distracting you from what?” 

He reaches up, brushing the pad of his thumb over your lips, “Stop pouting,” he says, “I’m trying to be respectful, here,” 

“I’m feeling pretty respected,” You slip one hand out of his grip and tug at his t-shirt, “kiss me again, let’s double check.” 

He laughs properly this time, shaking his head, “I don’t know if it’s a soulmate thing or a you thing, but God, you know all my buttons, already, don’t you?” 

“I’m confused,” You relax in his lap a little, arms folding over your chest to cover yourself, “we were making out and it was perfect and now,” 

He nods, “I know, let me explain,” 

You wait for him to say more, the soft silence his opening. 

“We know each other,” He finally says, “but I don’t know what you like in bed,” 

“Oh,” Your shoulders relax a little, “well, traditionally we would have sex and figure that out,”

He rolls his eyes at you a little, a smile still on his lips, “y/n,” 

“Sorry, sorry, go on,” 

His hands settle over your thighs, “Every time we touch it feels like a fire,” he confesses, “and I’m trying not to lose my mind before we have a chance to talk about any of the important things, I don’t want to cross a line, I don’t want you to feel rushed or uncomfortable with anything,” 

You sigh, about to say more but he shakes his head and continues. 

“Without talking I won’t know what you don’t want,” He says, “or even if you want tonight to be the night, if you’re on birth control or if we should use condoms,” 

The thought of that sparks a clarity in you like no other and you realize he’s right, you were both so close to losing yourselves you could have made a mistake of the whole night. You blink, nodding this time. 

“And I’m afraid if we keep going like this,” He continues, “if we go upstairs without talking, I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough to walk away without fucking you and making you mine tonight.” 

Your heart thumps in your chest. You’ve never been held like this, talked to like this, no one in your life has ever searched for your boundaries on their own quite like this, with sex or otherwise and you know suddenly with perfect truth what this night is going to be. 

You nod, and then you smile, “Can I talk now?” 

 “Please,” 

“I’m on birth control,” You start off with the easiest answer, “and I’ve been tested since my last partner, so as long as you have too we can go without condoms,” 

“I have,” He nods immediately, “it’s been a while and that’s part of our regular health screenings,” 

“Good,” You let your arms relax now, resting your hands on his shoulders as you keep going, “so that’s one thing cleared up,” 

He smiles. 

“As for the rest,” You hold his gaze, “I liked how you talked to me on the phone very much,” 

He swallows hard. 

“I’m pretty sure I know what you’re asking,” You let your thumb rub over the pulse point in his neck, “so let me be clear, I like that. I like that you want to take control, and I like that you want to tell me what to do. Very much.” 

He nods, “And,” 

“I’m not the type to do something I don’t want to,” You promise him, knowing it’s as much of a promise to yourself after everything you’ve experienced in past relationships, “if something isn’t right for me, I’ll say it.” 

His shoulders relax under your touch, “Good,” 

“My guess though,” You nudge him, “is that we’re pretty compatible if the universe thinks so too,” 

“I thought so,” He murmurs appreciatively. 

You lean a little closer to him, and his arms slide around your back to hold you as you muster up the courage for the next part of answers to his questions, “For what I like,” you start, “let’s figure out the details together.” 

He nods. 

“For what I don’t like,” You tell him softly, “um,” your voice cracks a little with nerves and discomfort, a tone you were hoping to conceal at least for tonight. 

He watches you fumble over the words, a little crease between his brows as he tries to parse out what’s behind your tone, his thumb dragging a comforting line over your vertebrae. 

You sigh heavily and tell him your boundaries in a rushed breath, “Don’t pull my hair too hard, and if I’m ever using my mouth on you, just tell me before you move, alright? We can figure the rest out as we go,” 

His expression smooths, and his eyes study yours with the start of a question. You didn’t want to go here, not for a while, but something about your connection with him or maybe even just his earnestness makes you tell him more than you ever normally would.

 Again, as he always seems to, he senses the sudden tension in your chest and simply nods before touching your cheek gently, “Anything else?” 

You shake your head. 

He watches you carefully, his touch soft, and then with easy comfort he finds a question, “Do you want to tell me?”

There’s no demand in it, no insistence, only the offer of an outstretched hand, a listening ear. The momentary tightness relaxes inside you and you shake your head, “Not tonight,” 

He wants to ask more, you can see it, but your past sexual experiences no matter how clumsy or good or borderline traumatic should have no space in your night here with him. He’s worried though, you can see that too. 

It’s quiet for a beat as you take that in, and he nudges you gently, “You okay?” 

“Mhm,” You nod, “I promise, but let’s not talk about it tonight,” 

“Alright,” He draws you close, a soft kiss to your lips. 

You return the kiss warmly, pressing the promise of later honesty into your intention and he nods, reading you with ease. 

“Yunho,” You murmur as you part, “I do want it to be tonight,” 

“You do?” He confirms, hand sliding up and down your bare back. 

“I want this,” You cup his cheek, “I want us, and I don’t want to wait anymore,” 

“Say that again,” He lets your words from a moment ago fade, focusing on what you’re telling him now. 

“I want this,” You pull at his t-shirt again, restless energy creeping its way back into your body. 

“Not that,” He dismisses, “the other thing,” 

You know just what he wants to hear, but you play dumb for just a moment, “I don’t want to wait anymore?” 

His hand tightens on your backside, “y/n,” 

“Us,” You smile, “I said I want us,” 

“That’s it,” He kisses your smile, “I like the sound of that,” 

“I want us.” You repeat for him, lips to his, “Now, please, will you take me to bed and make me yours? Or do I have to beg?” 

He groans, “Let’s go to bed,” 

“So easy,” You tease him, sliding off his lap and reaching for him. 

He pushes himself off the couch but slides his hand into yours and tugs you close again, “I’ll make you beg another time,” 

Your stomach flip flops, arousal spiking through you and he smirks at your dazed expression. 

“Cute,” He taps your nose and steps towards the stairs, “you’re sure?” 

You’re about to protest again, a heavy sigh brewing in your gut, but he clears his throat and continues. 

“On tour,” His eyes shift to the floor for a moment, “I know you were anxious about us, and we talked about waiting. I’ll… I know I want you, and I’m going to keep wanting you. I can wait if that’s what you need, we can date,” 

The one good thing about the tour and all your sleepless nights was how long you had to think about this, about him. Your initial panic and fear over logistics and what-ifs had faded in days. He’s here, standing in your apartment, so you trust your gut, and you trust fate, and decide for once in your life to let someone in. 

You step close and pull him towards you, “Yunho, I don’t want to date,” 

His eyes flick to yours, his irises dark, “You don’t,” 

“I said I want us,” You take his hands in yours and direct them to your hips, “I know what that means,” 

His eyes study yours for a moment, and then he sighs, “Good,” he pulls you up into his hold and crashes your lips together. 

This time there’s nothing between you, no schedules or secrets, no indecision or questions keeping you from letting go. With both eyes open you’re diving into each other, and nothing in the world could stop you from tying yourself to him tonight, body and soul. 

You feel him shift on the landing as you kiss, and you pant a single word against his mouth, “Bed,” 

He nods, stumbling up a few steps without breaking your lips apart, one of his hands secure on the railing to guide him upwards. 

You giggle as he tips to the side and rights himself, leaning back and looking down to see how far up he managed to get you both, “Let me down,” 

He eases you to your own step. 

“Get up here,” You tug his hand and take the familiar steps to your loft bed as quickly as you can, dragging him behind you the whole way. 

Once you hit the landing you take your hand back and start unbuttoning your jeans, but you stop at the sound of a soft thump and Yunho’s soft curse under his breath. 

Turning you realize the issue, he’s too tall for your landing’s slanted ceiling, and he must have bumped his head on the way up to your bedroom. You laugh sharply, covering your lips to stifle the sound, “Sorry,” you grin, “are you okay?” 

“Fine,” He rubs the spot, but shakes it off. 

You turn back to the bed and tug the downy comforter open, “You’re too tall, when we get our own place we’ll get high ceilings,”

Something warm floods your chest and then he’s on you again. Yunho spins you around and dips to kiss you, only this time there’s an edge to it, a neediness. He walks you back until your knees hit the edge of the mattress, and then he wraps his arms around you and pushes you down in one smooth motion. 

Yunho slots himself between your thighs, and you hitch your legs onto his hips as he presses you into the mattress with hungrier and hungrier kisses. 

His lips travel over your jaw, your throat, “You said when,” 

“Hmm?” Your brain feels cottony and light already and you turn your head just a little to hear him again. 

His hand drags down to the top of your jeans, tugging at the zipper, “You said when, not if,” 

“Yunho,” You smile, gasping as his teeth nip at your throat, “we’re about to tie ourselves together for life, did you think I haven’t thought about living with you?” 

He groans, “You’re perfect,” 

You thread your fingers through his hair, “So are you,” 

He tugs artlessly at the top of your pants and sighs, “Need these off,” 

“Take them off me,” You relax your legs, and he shifts back to stand, looping his thumbs in your belt loops so that when he tugs your jeans, they slide off in one smooth motion and drop to the floor. 

“Oh,” He says softly, getting a good look at your now bare legs and the lines of ink that cover so many inches of your skin, “wow,” 

You’ve never been self conscious about your tattoos before, not like this, and you find yourself letting your legs fall closed, “Oh?” 

”I didn’t realize you had more,” He comments but his expression softens into a smile, “they suit you,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mm,” His hands slide up and down the plush curve of your thighs, “later you can tell me all about them,” 

Your stomach flips pleasantly. 

“Right now though,” He pushes your legs back open and drops back over you, slotting your bodies together and capturing your lips. 

You sigh pleasantly against his lips, wrapping your limbs around him and drawing him closer, and when his hips drop just enough for your core to press firmly against the front of his jeans you moan. 

Yunho groans, his hands wandering. 

You roll your hips, pressing yourself more firmly against the hard bulge of his clothed cock, “S-shirt off,” you pant, tugging at the fabric. 

He reaches back with one hand and grabs the back of his t-shirt and tugs, yanking it free with ease with only the briefest interruptions to your locked lips. When he presses closer to you this time, your bare chest is pressed against his. 

Your brain feels like dizzy stars, like someone picked you up and turned you around in endless circles until you couldn’t help but stagger in his direction, falling over yourself to hold onto him. His hips thrust gently, pushing his hardness insistently at your cunt and you moan into his mouth, your hot breath mingling together in panting sighs. 

“Yunho,” You whine, your core pulsating with need. 

“Yes, pretty girl?” He smiles against your lips, his hand skimming over the curve of your breast, down your side to anchor on your hip. 

You can’t wait anymore, if you do you might combust, and you reach between your bodies to tug at his belt buckle. 

He huffs a laugh, “Yeah?” 

“Please,” You work the leather loop free, “I’m way more naked than you,” 

“Patience,” He nips at your lip. 

His button is open with a frantic tug of your fingers, then his zipper, “I’ve been patient,” you push at his jeans, “baby, please, I need you,” 

“I need you too,” He balances himself on one hand braced on the bed, shimmying out of his pants, and you hook your fingers in the elastic of his boxer briefs to push at those too. 

“Please,” You find yourself begging so easily at the thought of this man pushing inside you. 

“Relax,” He kisses your forehead, tapping your hand out of the way so he can take off his own underwear, “I got it,” 

You ease back on the bed, but between the space of your bodies you watch him. Your mouth runs dry when he’s finally bare for you, and your heartbeat starts to pick up. 

The size of him is intimidating to say the least. He’s long, at least nine or ten inches if you were guessing, but what’s more is how thick he is. His cock is heavy, the kind you’d see in porn and wonder how the women on screen could take it. You can see every vein, the way it stands perfectly straight, the velvety mushroom head already dark pink and slick with the first few beads of precum. 

Yunho settles back above you, his hot, thick length resting on the top of your pubic mound, only the thin cotton of your panties keeping you from feeling him fully. 

”God,” You breathe, still taking him in, “I hope you’re good at foreplay,” 

He squeezes your hip, “We’ll take it slow,” 

You nod, still fixated on the sight of him between your legs, and you try not to think about how far up your stomach his cock comes and what that means for when he tries to put it inside you. Instead you focus on the fact that he’s yours, “We were made for each other right?” You joke softly, “I can take you,” 

He smooths your hair back and tilts your head up, finding your eyes, “We’ll go slow,” he reiterates, “have you ever been with someone my size? Or used any toys like that?” 

For all the sex you’ve had, his question makes you feel a bit like a blushing virgin and you shake your head. 

Something flashes in his eyes, and you feel the twitch of his cock against you. 

“You like that?” You bite the inside of your lip to keep from teasing him too much. 

He brushes past your question, “Let me warm you up,” 

Easy relief blooms in your chest, your muscles starting to relax, and he settles his body over you properly to take you right back into a tender kiss. You can feel him hard and present between you, but he distracts you with open mouthed kisses, his hands exploring you slowly until your hips are twitching on their own. 

You’re dripping wet, there’s no way you’re not soaking through the thin fabric of your panties, but his kisses continue like that’s the last thought in his mind. He makes his way across your jaw, sliding lower down your body as he lavishes attention on your neck, over the jut of your collarbones, across the smooth plane of your chest and tops of your breasts. 

“Oh, yes,” Your voice is breathy as he slides even lower in the bed between your thighs, his mouth skimming over the swell of your tits, ghosting past your nipples. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He murmurs, hands cupping your chest and drawing your breasts together, his teeth sink into his lower lip at the sight. 

“Y-yeah?” Your hips arch beneath him, “You like me?” 

A smile tugs at his lips, one hand sliding up to your cheek as he looks up, “I more than like you, y/n,” 

Your breath is caught in your throat, your heart quickening in your chest. 

Yunho smiles a little at that, feeling the echo of your emotions himself, and then he dips his face to kiss your chest again. This time his lips travel in a smooth, reverent line down your sternum until you feel his breath against your looped tattoo. 

Pleasure sparks inside you and you moan softly, one of your hands threading into the back of his hair. 

He hums pleasantly, and then kisses your mark. 

“Yunho,” You sigh, heat flooding your body. 

He kisses you again, pressing a peck to each of the four corners of the knotted diamond, before centering another again and pouring every ounce of his feeling into it through the link. This time, he murmurs what you already know against your skin, “I love you,” 

Tears gather in your eyes, the feeling spilling over into you so all encompassing that it fells you. You tremble in his arms, your eyes locked to the white ceiling above you as you try desperately to steady yourself in the wave of emotion and sensation. 

His kisses start to travel lower, and your fingers card through his hair, “Y-Yunho, I,” 

“Shh,” He shakes his head, lips moving down over your belly as he shifts lower, “just relax,” 

A little piece of you wants to protest, wants to tell him that you love him too, but he settles between your thighs and slides your legs open wider to accommodate his broad shoulders, and every coherent thought flutters right out of your brain. 

Yunho kisses your inner thigh, easing himself into the perfect position, and then he wraps his arms around your hips under your splayed thighs, one hand braced on your rib cage and the other closing over your abdomen. 

His nose gently, gently nuzzles against your clothed mound and you hear him breathe you in. 

You shudder, moaning softly, your hand finding his hair once again. 

“I’ll take good care of you,” He murmurs low, kissing your cunt, “I love you so much,” 

“Oh,” Your breath catches as he tastes you through the fabric of you underwear, “p-please,” 

His hand on your abdomen shifts, and he reaches between your thighs to tug your underwear to one side, hooking it under his thumb to hold it in place. You gasp as his warm breath caresses your slit, your hand sliding to brace his shoulder. 

“I got you,” He soothes you, his free hand sliding up and down on your ribs, “I promise,” 

A needy sound stutters from your throat. 

At the first swipe of his tongue through your slick folds, Yunho groans and you start to tremble properly in his hold. It feels like liquid fire, better than any touch you’ve ever felt, partner, toy, or or own fingers. Yunho’s lips, his tongue, each little brush of his fingers, every bit of him feels like it was divined for you, and you won’t last a minute. 

“Feel good?” He checks, sliding his tongue through your lower lips again. 

“Incredible,” You pant, your hips canting to try and catch more sensation, “I, I c-can’t,” 

He chuckles, the vibrations running straight up your body, “You taste like heaven, baby,” 

Moaning, you grip down on his shoulder. 

“Mm,” He dives in properly, nestling close and all but kissing your cunt, “god,” 

His tongue drives any coherent thoughts out of your head as he gets the feel for your body, the firm tip sliding over your clit and making you jolt under his hands. 

“Y-yes,” You manage, nodding into the pillows. 

“Here?” He breathes, flicking your swollen clit again. 

“Oh, yes, god,” You grip the sheets. 

He hums, his hands tightening on your skin, and then he closes his lips over your bud and sucks. 

“Oh!” You arch back, hand flying up to catch his head and brace yourself, “Fuck, fuck,” 

He stays steady this time, sucking and lapping at you in a perfect rhythm, holding you in place as he finds the perfect combination to have you scrambling in the sheets. 

“Baby,” You moan, the word turning into a heady whine. 

He groans against you, dragging you tighter to his mouth with a flex of his arms. Your head spins as you slide down the mattress, a bubble of taut pleasure building inside you fast and hot. 

“Please,” You moan, your back arching as he delivers a sharp suck. 

His broad hand slides up from its place anchored on your side to cup your breast, and you look down to watch him move. His fingers deftly find your nipple, twisting and pinching gently, and as he takes a breath between licks and sucks to your dripping cunt, his eyes flash up and meet yours. 

A smile flicks across his wet face, and your eyes roll as you collapse back into the bedding to let him work. 

“That’s it,” He huffs as he sucks in another breath, tongue diving back inside you, pulsing and thrusting. 

Your thighs start to shake, your body jerks on its own, and he finds the perfect tempo to take you through - his thumb swiping sharply over your nipple back and forth, his mouth working you up higher and higher with a sustained pressure. 

The bubble of pleasure arcs up your spine and then settles back down, low in your belly, and you gasp sharply, “God, oh, god,” 

He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t change a single thing, he stays steady and that brings you right up to the very edge. 

“I’m,” Your eyes snap shut, your body shuddering, “I’m, c-coming, Yunho, I’m… baby, I’m,” 

He moans through your babbled pleas, and then you break apart beneath him. Your orgasm crashes into you like a wall of heat, and your body wrenches up tight into fits and starts, legs snapping shut around his ears, fingers knotted in his hair, your free hand braced on the wall behind you as your body jerks itself in rolling grinds against his eager mouth. 

He eases you through it, transitioning from sucks to lazy licks with the flat of his tongue, until you’re boneless and melted under him, your legs falling slack open as your eyes stay unfocused on the ceiling. 

“Okay,” His low voice comes back to you, and you feel his hands smoothing over your trembling thighs, a kiss to your knee, “that’s it,” 

A shiver runs through you, your body suddenly cold at the lack of contact and you take in a sharp breath. 

“I got you,” He shifts over your legs, crawling up the bed so he can collapse along your one side, and he wraps you up in his arm. 

His cheeks are pleasantly pink, hair a chaotic haystack, his mouth is still glistening from your slick wetness, and he grins down at you breathlessly, “Hey,” 

“H-hi,” You sigh. 

“Feeling good?” He cups your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. 

You nod, relaxing into his touch, “Mhm,” 

“Good,” He presses a warm kiss to your forehead and draws you into him to let you recover. 

You melt into his touch, cheek to chest. 

Yunho brushes his fingers up and down your spine and gets his own breath back. 

After a few more moments, you sigh, shaking out the post-orgasm haze and kiss his skin, “I’d say I’m warmed up now,” 

He huffs a laugh into your hair, “Eager,” 

“Aren’t you?” Your hand slides over his bare side. 

“I am,” He squeezes you.

Feeling starts to come back into your body and you smile, wriggling in his arms until you’re in a better position and able to follow his earlier lead. You nip gently at his chest and pepper him with kisses, and you smile when you hear his contented sigh and pleased hum. His fingers slide up and down your back as you try to give him a taste of every sensation he gave to you. 

At his mark, you follow his kisses exactly, and you feel him twitch, his hard length pressing into your belly where you have his cock trapped between your bodies. 

You linger here a moment, “You feel that?” 

At your punctuated kiss against his soul mark he sighs, “I can feel you,” 

You nod, nuzzling into him, “You’re mine,” 

“Completely,” 

“I’m yours,” You murmur, promising him the same. 

“Mine,” He breathes. 

Your kisses travel lower as you work your way down the smooth plane of his abdomen, his muscles twitching under your lips, but as you settle yourself over his hips and work your mouth closer and closer to the base of his cock he shifts under you. 

“Hey,” He catches your hands, closing them in his own, “I’m fine,” 

“I want to,” You smile, a tender kiss to the underside of his shaft before you let your tongue trace up the seam of his thick member. 

He gasps, hips twitching, but he shakes his head, “Wait, wait,” 

You pull back immediately and look up, a swirl of feelings knotting in your gut, “What?” 

He swallows hard and slides his hands up your arms, hooking under your upper arms so he can tug you back up to lie next to him eye to eye, “Not tonight,” 

“I want to make you feel good,” Your hand snakes between you, searching for him. 

“You do,” He sighs as your hand closes around him, “you are, but after what you said,” 

It feels like a bucket of cold water and your hand falls away from his cock. You hate your ex so much for being anywhere near your head at this moment with this man, but he is. He never hurt you, but the way he pressured you and pushed you into things you weren’t ready for has been an ever present shadow in your sex life even now, years and multiple partners later. 

Yunho kisses your lips and tries to keep his tone light, “Another time,” he tells you, “I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“It’s not,” You fumble over your words again, “it’s not bad, I’m alright, I want to,” 

He smiles and shakes his head, “I’d be more comfortable,” 

That takes the wind right out of your sails, and you sink into him, “Oh,” 

“You want to make me feel good?” He asks. 

You nod. 

His hand slides down your arm, drawing your own hand to his aching cock, and he closes your fingers around it, “Touch me, then, we’ll have time for the rest later,” 

He’s hot in your hand and you take in the weight of him as you slide your fist up and down to explore him. 

He groans, “Again,” 

You pump your hand once more, base to tip, rolling your wrist experimentally this time as you work his tip. Leaving any thoughts of the past behind, you focus on him entirely. 

“You’re s-so good at this already,” He sighs, “just like that,” 

Your bodies shift to accommodate, he cuddles you closer with one arm wrapped around you and your legs tangled together, and slowly you start to learn his body too. The way he twitches as your fist drops down to the base and squeezes, his gasp when your knuckle brushes up over the seam of his cockhead. His eyes blow wide when your thumb collects a bead of precum to rub up and down his shaft, and he moans when your fingers tighten and release. 

His free hand snakes between your bodies, finding your slippery center again like he’s been touching you for years. 

“Oh, Yunho,” You part your thighs. 

He groans, eyes slipping closed for a moment, “You’re so wet,” 

You moan as he slides his fingers lower, teasing your entrance with his fingertips. 

“Needy,” He murmurs. 

You do your best to focus on him, but the pressure of his fingers at your wet opening has you jerking your hips. Your hand tightens on his shaft and he sucks in a sharp breath, nodding. His cock feels so right in your hand, thick and pulsing, and you shiver, “I should have known you’d be huge,” you giggle against his shoulder. 

He smirks, “Yeah?” 

“You’re tall,” You start. 

He pulls his fingers back away from your pussy, dragging the pads of his fingertips over your clit as he does and you moan, a whiny needy sound from the center of your throat. 

“Not all tall guys,” He starts to say but you pump your hand just right and he curses. 

“Mm,” You slide closer to him if at all possible, “but you’re big everywhere,” 

You punctuate your words with a gentle tease of his cockhead, the pad of your thumb rubbing a circle into the seam that made him pant before, and he twitches, his eyes rolling. 

He swallows tightly and smiles, “Am I?” 

“Mhm,” You nip his chest lightly with your teeth, pumping your hand again nice and slow, “big feet, big hands…” 

“Been thinking a lot about my hands, sweetheart?” He teases, dragging his nails lightly up and down your thigh. 

“Shut up,” You duck your face, planning to double down your efforts on his cock, but he pushes your hand away and rolls you smoothly onto your back. You drop back with a squeak, your eyes flying up to his. 

“You have,” He teases, sliding his palm down your body, a slow and torturous pace on the path to your cunt once again. 

“Maybe,” 

”Fantasizing about my fingers?” His voice is low, warm in his chest, and he slowly presses his middle finger over your clit. 

“Oh, fuck,” Your head drops back, eyes finding the ceiling once again only this time Yunho makes a soft noise, his tongue against his teeth and he shakes his head. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” He murmurs, his fingers rocking gently over your swollen bud. 

You are a little, but there’s something in his tone that tells you he likes it and you think about the way his eyes flashed at the idea of being your first partner his size. With every little touch you’ve been figuring him out, and this suddenly feels like he’s allowing himself to want you in the way he needs. If he wasn’t so good at pressing all your buttons you’d try to tease him again, but when you meet his eyes and see the heat behind them, all you can do is melt. 

His next words leave you breathless, “I fantasize about you,” 

“Y-you do?” 

“All the time,” He nods, his hand between your thighs getting bolder as he explores your wet folds. 

“Please,” Your hips arch as the tips of his fingers pass over your entrance again. 

“Oh baby,” He groans, and you feel his hard cock twitch against your thigh, “you need it?” 

You nod, reaching down to find his wrist, tugging him to communicate while your head feels so full of fuzzy pleasure. 

“Fuck it,” He bites his lip as he looks down at you squirming in the sheets, “I’ll tease you later,” 

“Thank g-,” The words die on your lips, punched out of you when he slides two of his impossibly long fingers deep into your cunt in one push. 

He doesn’t wait for you to beg this time, with his eyes glued to your every expression, he reads your pleasure and starts to pulse his hand, pumping his fingers in and out of your fluttering core with strong, steady strokes. 

“Yes, yes,” Your legs widen, and you collapse into his shoulder, “oh my god,” 

His fingers feel thick and warm in your cunt, crooked just right to reach spots you could only hit with toys, and even then the feeling of those pale in comparison to him. 

“I knew you’d feel good,” He pushes your legs open wide with his free hand, “can’t wait to have you wrapped around my cock,” 

Pleasure arcs up your spine and you moan, your hand flying to his bicep and gripping down hard, “Fuck,” 

He presses a kiss to your shoulder as he adjusts his position and in torturously slow pumps of his hand, he starts to work you open. He scissors his fingers wide as draws them out, and when you feel him push in a third finger as deep as he can go, you shudder against the sheets. 

“So tight,” He murmurs, the words sounding like praise on his lips, “you’re squeezing my fingers, pretty girl,”

Your cunt clenches in response and he chuckles. 

“Exactly like that,” He smiles and thrusts his fingers in and out again, increasing his pace as your breath starts to quicken. 

“Y-Yunho,” You jerk against him, the bubble of a building orgasm once again gathering low in your gut and you scramble in the sheets until you’re legs are open as wide as possible, one leg hitched over his. You can’t stop watching him now, the lean muscle of his arm, the way the tendons in his forearm twitch with his movements. Pushing up on your forearms you catch sight of his index, middle, and ring fingers gathered tightly together, glistening with your wetness as they plunge in and out of your fluttering cunt. 

“So beautiful,” He groans, kissing your temple and wrapping his free arm around your back to adjust to the position change, giving his arm enough leverage that he can keep thrusting in and out. 

You moan at the heady sensation of his fingers at your g-spot, hips pushing down into his hand. 

“Want you to come again,” He says hotly against your hair.

 You nod, heels digging into the mattress as your body jerks, needily meeting each stroke of his fingers with your hips. 

“Tell me,” He says. 

“H-harder,” You beg him, sensation cascading through you, “harder, baby, please,” 

“God, yes,” He adjusts, and suddenly you’re pinned back to the mattress flat on your back, one of Yunho’s broad hands stretched wide on your sternum to pin you in place as he fucks you open with the other. 

Perfect, almost painful pleasure has your eyes slamming shut and a desperate whine on your lips, “Oh, oh, oh,” each push in of his fingers punches out a breathy moan, your pussy fluttering as he draws you up to the peak. 

“Tell me you’re close,” He pants, “I want to hear it,” 

Your nerve endings light up, your body arching under the hard press of his hand, “I’m so close, I’m so f-fucking close,” 

“Come for me, baby,” 

Your nails dig into his thigh, the pressure mounting inside you, “Again,” you manage, begging for more. 

His fingers curl, just a little more, “Come,” he says it again, only this time his tone is sharper, deeper and more direct. It’s not a question, not a wish or a hope, it’s a command. 

Your free hand claps over your mouth, stifling a moan and you bite down on the fleshy heel of your hand to keep from screaming. 

“Come,” He holds you steady, “that’s it, let go, let it all go, baby,” 

Your body erupts into ecstatic shakes, pleasure rolling through in wave after wave, but all you can do is let it. 

“Just like that,” He groans, “fuck yes,” 

This time, as your orgasm starts to abate, he doesn’t kiss you tenderly or wrap you up for a cuddle, this time he’s just as frantic as you are. 

“I need you,” He pants, his body over top of yours once again, “y/n, fuck,” 

You blink hard, still a trembling mess, and you see his own desperate expression. His cheeks are pink, brow slick with sweat, pupils dilated with desire as he opens your legs and crowds you with his body. 

“T-talk to me,” He manages, his hand directing his weeping cock to your throbbing entrance, “tell me you still want this,” 

“I want this,” You reach for him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him closer, “I want you,” 

“God,” He’s shaking, his body taut like a rubber band about to snap, and somewhere inside you you can feel the amount of self control he’s exhibiting just to go slowly. 

You moan sharply when his tip drags over your throbbing clit. 

“You’re so wet,” He pants, watching between your bodies as he slicks the head of his cock between your folds. 

“For you,” You breathe, your head feeling cottony. 

“So pretty,” The head of his cock nudges against your entrance and you shiver. 

Need sparks through you, “Please,” you tug at his hip, just a little and he smiles. 

“Tell me if I need to stop,” He manages, his weight collapsing a little as he slowly starts to push his hips forwards. 

You gasp as you start to feel him, your cunt still swollen and pulsing from two back to back orgasms, and his eyes snap up. 

Yunho watches your face carefully as he moves, his body strung tight as he tries to hold onto a thread of composure. It feels normal at the start, but as he pushes in past the head, you feel yourself start to stretch wide in a way you’ve never experienced and your breath starts to quicken. 

“Oh, fuck,” You look between your bodies, watching his slow sink into your wet heat, and swallow tightly at just how much of him is left to take. 

“You okay?” He asks breathlessly.

“Uh-huh,” You manage, “I can feel everything, but god, don't stop,”

He hisses, gripping your thigh with his free hand, fingers still slick with your juices, fighting the urge to lose himself. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his eyes flicking over the expression of tight pleasure on your face.  

“Don’t you dare pull out,” You grip down on his shoulders and roll your hips roll a bit, taking him in another inch, “you feel so good,” 

He lets out a heady breath, and moves in just a bit more, “Yeah?” 

“Never felt anything this good,” You moan as he pushes in further, your walls fluttering and clamping around his hot length. 

He rolls his hips this time, just a little experiment to drag himself in and out without fucking into you fully, and he moans when your muscles lock pleasantly around him, “God, you really were made for me,” 

“Yours,” You say it like a vow, and in a strange way somewhere in the back of your mind you know it is. A dizzy promise in an almost marriage bed as your bodies sink together. 

His breath hitches, cock shifting inside you, his head dropping so that you’re forehead to forehead, “And yours,” he agrees softly. 

Your body feels hot suddenly, hotter than before, everything a hazy glow in the dim lighting of your bedroom. You feel all at once like you’re in the moments before a wave, the sudden suck back of the water with all the sand slipping away from underneath your feet, leaving you unsteady and sinking into the earth. Your ears catch with a dull ring. 

Your breath is comes quickly now, warmth flushing your chest and cheeks, and your nails tighten on his skin, “Yunho,” 

He adjusts to meet your gaze, and you realize he’s feeling exactly what you are, the thrumming sensation of it all but swirling around you in the air. He blinks hard, “I’m.. I need,” 

You understand him without words, you know exactly what he needs because you need it too. Through the fog of sensation, you pull lightly on his shoulders and hitch your calves on his hips, drawing him in deeper, “Please,” 

His hips drop, seating himself just a little more and you moan at the stretching sensation. He’s holding himself back, clinging to the one clear thought that he promised he’d take care of you, but his resolve is crumbing apart before your eyes. 

“Yunho,” You cup his cheek, begging him with your expression to let go, “I need you,” 

He swallows hard, his chest flushed red, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. 

The words flood out of you, a whispered confession just for him, “I love you, please,” 

He exhales in a rush, a wide smile breaking across his face, his eyes shining, and without any more hesitation he thrusts forwards and sinks his full length inside you. 

You moan sharply, wrapping your arms around him as he drops his body down on yours, sweat slick skin pressed flush together. The hot dizziness grows, and he finds your lips, moaning against your mouth as he kisses you hard. Your bodies start to move in sync, a tandem push and pull as he rolls into the cradle of your hips, your breath tangled together as you rock in the sheets. 

Yunho leans his forehead against yours, pumping his hips slow and firm, “I love you,” 

The sensation grows, filling the air around you and a chill rushes up your spine, the hair on your arms standing up at attention, the magnetic pull between your bodies so forceful you don’t think a single thing in the world could drag you away from him. Emotion rocks through the link, and then all at once you feel it snap into place. 

Your tattoo burns, the brand igniting just like when you touched his cheek for the first time, and you suck in a sharp breath. Yunho’s hips stutter in pace, sinking himself deep until your bodies are nestled together with every inch of him buried inside you. 

He’s breathing heavy, arms wrapped tight around you, hands trembling, “I can feel you,” he leans up an inch, smoothing your hair back from your face, “you’re,” 

His words die on his lips but he touches his chest and you nod, you feel him too. One single heartbeat, one breath. The link before was nothing, a mere echo of this, a blurry photograph now sharply in focus, and you reach up to brush your fingers along his cheek, his lips, a ghost of the sensation along your own face. 

“How is this real?” Tears prick at your eyes. You’ve seen the movies, read the books, you’ve talked to people who have found their soulmates before, but nothing could have prepared you for this. You feel him inside you as if he were a part of you, his skin your skin, his emotions, even the shape of his thoughts.  

You understand all at once why people say it’s possible to die of a broken heart. If you ever lost him, lost this… 

“I’m here,” He interrupts your internal spiral, dipping to press a kiss to your lips, “I’m not going anywhere,” 

“How did you,” You shake your head in strange awe of the feeling, “what is this?” 

“I don’t know,” He kisses you again, “I just knew, I felt it,” 

Tears spill over, snaking back into your hairline, and you press your palm to his chest, sliding down over his tattoo. Words fail you, all you can feel is the overwhelming breadth of your souls together. How could anyone live without this, how could anyone believe this isn’t real?

“Don’t cry,” He soothes, wiping the tears from your temples with his thumb. 

“I’m happy,” You manage, finding his eyes again, “Yunho, I’m so happy,” 

He grins, his breath catching in his throat as he lets his forehead rest on yours again and he nods, “Me too,” 

His love thrums through you, tangible and solid, a truth you didn’t know you could have. You’re grinning too now, an elated laugh on your lips as you wrap your arms around him, “Fuck,” you thread your fingers in his hair, nuzzling into him, “you love me,” 

“So much,” He confesses quietly, “I didn’t know I could love someone like this,” 

“Me too,” You press your lips to his, sighing into him, “I love you too,” 

The kisses feel like his love actualized, nothing more true than his mouth, his need, and yours reflected back in the mirror of his desire. You moan as another wave of heat floods through you, and Yunho shudders.

For a moment, there’s nothing more to say, tangled together in your bed in the middle of Seoul, time seemingly standing still just for you. Tightly locked together, you both start to move again. Each slow pump of his hips down is met with an upward roll of yours, his cock slowly stroking in and out of your pulsing center, your arms wrapped around each other as you pant and moan. 

You crumble apart together, still deep beneath the dizzy waves, his mouth hot against your ear as he releases inside you, your cunt fluttering and spasming around him, drawing him in, holding him inside.

**this part was too long for tumblr's new word count guidelines! please check out the second half of this part, here!

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 this is awkward..

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, you were fed up with James, deciding to put aside your pettiness you drag him away from the gryffindor party to talk to him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r and james speaking is 𝓱���𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝔂 inspired by gilbert confessing that he wants anne so effing bad bc he 𝓯𝔀 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝔂, lowkey dont hate me for making the “dreams” u want so like…. I just didn't know what to do bc like idk smh i set back women 50 years by that

a/n: tysm for all the love on this series!! y’all are NOT ready for the next chapter, writing it rn and 😭🙏 BUTTT tysm for 300🫶🫶 also I finished the last chapter... do y'all want me to post it today or edge y'all and post it tomorrow

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It was now nearing the end of the school year—even if there was still a month to go. James could now be in the same room as you without glaring daggers at whoever you were talking to. Though he told himself he was over you, he knew deep down that the feelings never faded.

He told himself it didn’t matter. He told himself he was fine. And yet, every time he caught sight of you, every time your laughter reached his ears from across the room, it was as if someone had set fire to his resolve.

He wanted to talk to you so badly it was almost pathetic. But it was like the universe itself was conspiring against him—or, more specifically, like Finn Laurier had developed some sort of sixth sense for James’s intentions.

Because every single time James gathered enough courage, every time he braced himself to walk over to you, Finn would appear out of nowhere. Whether it was in the Great Hall, the library, or even during Quidditch practice, Finn always seemed to materialize by your side at precisely the wrong moment, stealing away your attention and leaving James feeling like the outsider in his own story.

It was infuriating.

“Mate, you’re grinding your teeth,” Sirius remarked casually one afternoon as they sat under the beech tree by the lake.

James startled, realizing with some embarrassment that Sirius was right. He quickly unclenched his jaw and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m just…”

“Just what?” Sirius prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” James lied, though his voice betrayed him.

Sirius gave him a knowing look. “If this is about her again, just—”

“It’s not about her,” James interrupted quickly, though he winced as the words left his mouth. He knew Sirius wouldn’t believe him, and he wasn’t sure he even believed himself anymore.

Sirius sighed, shaking his head. “Prongs, you’re going to drive yourself mad if you keep this up. Just talk to her already.”

“I’ve tried!” James snapped, louder than he intended. He lowered his voice and added, “I’ve tried, but every bloody time, Finn shows up. It’s like he’s got a bloody tracker on her or something.”

Remus, who had been quietly reading nearby, finally chimed in. “You know, maybe you’re overthinking this,” he said, not looking up from his book.

“How could I possibly be overthinking this?” James demanded, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Maybe Finn’s not doing it on purpose,” Remus suggested calmly. “Maybe it’s just bad timing.”

“Bad timing?” James repeated incredulously. “Bad timing doesn’t happen this often, Moony. This is a pattern.”

Remus gave him a skeptical look but didn’t argue further.

James leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He hated how much this was bothering him. He hated how much control this entire situation had over him.

But most of all, he hated the thought that you might actually be happy with Finn.

It wasn’t that he thought Finn was a bad guy—quite the opposite, really. Finn was charming, talented, and annoyingly good at everything he did. He was the kind of guy parents adored, the kind of guy professors went out of their way to praise. And worst of all, he was the kind of guy who could make you smile in a way James had only dreamed of.

James opened his eyes, staring up at the branches overhead. “Maybe I should just give up,” he muttered.

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said all day.”

“I’m serious,” James insisted.

“No, I’m Sirius,” Sirius quipped, smirking.

James groaned, throwing a small pebble in his direction. “Not the time for jokes.”

“Fine, fine,” Sirius said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, you’re not giving up. You’re James Potter, remember? Stubborn, arrogant, never-takes-no-for-an-answer James Potter. You don’t give up on things you care about.”

James hesitated, staring at the rippling water of the Black Lake. He wanted to believe Sirius. He wanted to believe that there was still a chance, that you weren’t as far out of reach as you seemed.

But as he watched you across the courtyard later that day, standing beside Finn and laughing at something he said, James couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, it was too late.

But his doubt soon melted into something far more unsettling when he noticed your gaze shift. For the first time in what felt like forever, your attention wasn’t on Finn Laurier—it was on him.

James felt like he might throw up.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his hands fidgeted with the hem of his robes as he quickly looked away. In fact, he didn’t just look away; he turned his entire body in the opposite direction, hoping to mask the flush rising to his cheeks.

“C’mon, James, you’ve got a Quidditch game to win today! Channel all that anger you’ve got towards Laurier into winning us the Cup!” Sirius said, clapping a hand on James’s shoulder with his trademark grin.

James gave a faint nod, trying to let Sirius’s words sink in. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but he had to admit—focusing on Quidditch might be better than brooding.

As the match began, Sirius’s advice started to help. Flying through the air, the roar of the crowd, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins almost made him forget the mess he was tangled in. Quidditch always had a way of making the weight on his shoulders feel lighter.

Almost.

At first, he wasn’t paying much attention to the game. His mind wandered back to you, back to everything that had gone wrong. He thought about what he would say, how he could even begin to fix things. And, like always, he couldn’t resist scanning the crowd for you.

Even in the middle of a fight, even when he swore to himself that he was done, James always looked for you in the stands.

And he found you—right where he didn’t want to.

You were sitting with Finn Laurier, your hand clasped in his. James’s stomach twisted painfully at the sight, and he forced himself to look away, though the image burned into his mind.

Of course. Finn fucking Laurier.

He sighed, his grip tightening on his broomstick. There was no point in hoping anymore. Whatever chance he’d had—if he’d ever had one—was gone now. Maybe he’d already been downgraded in your life: a friend at best, a stranger at worst. The thought stung, and James shoved it down, refusing to dwell on it any longer.

And then, something golden caught the corner of his eye.

The Snitch.

For the first time all game, James’s focus snapped into place. He leaned forward on his broom, his heart pounding—not from heartbreak this time, but from the sheer rush of competition. If nothing else, he could still win this. He could still bring home the Cup.

James shot after the Snitch with everything he had, the rush of wind against his face only fueling his determination. The crowd roared, but their voices blurred into the background. His world narrowed to one thing: the golden glimmer darting just ahead.

The Hufflepuff Seeker was hot on his trail, but James barely registered them. This was his moment. The Snitch veered sharply to the right, and James followed, his reflexes razor-sharp. He could feel the weight of his emotions—anger, heartbreak, frustration—all pouring into this chase.

The Snitch dipped low, skimming just above the grass, and James dove after it, his fingers outstretched. The Hufflepuff Seeker was closing in fast, but James didn’t care. He pushed his broom harder, faster, his body leaning forward so much it felt like he might fall off.

And then, his fingers closed around the Snitch.

The Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers, deafening and jubilant. The sound echoed across the pitch as James pulled up, the Snitch held high in triumph. For the first time all week, a genuine smile broke across his face.

He’d done it.

Back on the ground, his teammates swarmed him, yelling and celebrating as they lifted him off the ground in a flurry of hugs and pats on the back. Sirius was the loudest, of course, laughing as he shouted, “That’s my best mate! Did you see that dive? Bloody brilliant!”

James grinned, allowing himself to soak in the moment. But as the initial adrenaline rush faded, his thoughts drifted back to you.

Through the crowd, he spotted you walking toward the castle with Laurier. You looked happy—laughing at something Finn said, your hand still in his.

James’s chest tightened, the pain creeping back in.

Sirius slung an arm around his shoulders. “Oi, don’t let that git ruin your moment. You just won us the Cup, Prongs. Focus on that, yeah?”

James forced a nod, plastering a smile on his face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

But deep down, as the team carried him back to the common room, the ache lingered. Winning the match had been a distraction, but it wasn’t enough to erase what he felt for you—or the sting of seeing you with someone else.

Still, James promised himself one thing: he’d get through this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. And who knew? Maybe, someday, you’d see him the way he saw you.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The Gryffindor common room was a chaotic blur of red and gold, filled with triumphant cheers and laughter. The moment the team returned from the pitch, the party was already in full swing. Someone had charmed a banner to flash "Gryffindor Wins the Cup!" in shimmering letters, and butterbeer bottles floated around the room, courtesy of a cheeky charm from Sirius.

James stood in the center of it all, grinning as his teammates and housemates patted him on the back and congratulated him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to bask in the glory of the victory, letting it drown out the knot in his chest. He’d won the game, and Gryffindor had the Cup—he deserved to enjoy it.

“Prongs!” Sirius yelled over the noise, shoving a butterbeer into his hand. “You’re the man of the hour! You better milk this for all it’s worth, because Merlin knows you deserve it.”

James laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t let me hear you say that too often, Padfoot. I might start believing it.”

Sirius gave him a devilish grin. “Oh, you will. Now, c’mon, let’s make some noise!” He climbed onto a table, raising his bottle high. “To Prongs, our Quidditch hero!”

The room erupted in cheers, and James couldn’t help but laugh, taking a sip of his butterbeer as the noise washed over him. For the first time all day, he felt lighter.

As the party went on, James moved through the crowd, chatting and laughing with his housemates. But no matter how loud the celebration got, his eyes kept drifting to the door, half-hoping, half-dreading to see you walk in.

And then, you did.

James froze mid-conversation, his heart doing that familiar stutter-step it always did when he saw you. You looked radiant, wrapped in Gryffindor colors, your cheeks flushed from the cold. But his chest tightened when he noticed Laurier trailing behind you, his hand resting casually on the small of your back.

James quickly turned back to his conversation, forcing a smile and pretending not to notice. He wasn’t going to let Finn Laurier—or his own stupid feelings—ruin the night.

“Oi, Prongs,” Sirius said, appearing at his side again. “Stop moping and do something fun. We just won the bloody Cup, mate! At least pretend you’re having the time of your life.”

James forced another grin. “I am having fun, Padfoot. Loads of fun.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You’re staring at her again, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” James lied, taking a long sip of butterbeer.

Sirius groaned, grabbing James by the shoulders. “Look, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stop torturing yourself, and you’re going to have a bloody fantastic time tonight. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll prank Laurier so hard he won’t know which way is up. Deal?”

James couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head. “Alright, deal.”

Hours later, the party was still going strong. Someone had turned the music up, and the common room had transformed into a dance floor. James found himself dragged into the middle of it by Lily Evans, who gave him a pointed look.

“Stop sulking, Potter,” she said, smirking. “You just won the Cup. Act like it.”

“I’m not sulking,” James said, though his half-hearted smile gave him away.

Lily raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she tugged him into the rhythm of the music, and for a while, James let himself get lost in the moment.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of you again, laughing at something Laurier said, that the knot in his chest returned. He took a deep breath, plastered on another smile, and decided that, for tonight, he’d keep pretending.

He watched you from across the room as you and Laurier continued talking, laughter bubbling between you two. He could see the way you looked at him now—so different from the way you looked at him before. It was like there was a barrier, a wall that hadn’t been there when he first met you.

“Prongs,” Sirius appeared at his side again, his voice low and concerned. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot, but this is ridiculous. You’re letting Laurier ruin your night—and you just won us the Cup, for Merlin’s sake. You’re allowed to be happy tonight. So go talk to her. If you don’t, I swear I’ll do it for you.”

James frowned at him, irritated. “I’m not talking to her, Pads. Not now.”

“Then at least get out of here and enjoy yourself,” Sirius pressed. “We’re celebrating, mate. You’ve earned it.”

James looked over at you one more time, and for a second, he almost gave in. But the knot in his chest was still there, tightly wound, and it made everything feel so much harder than it should’ve been.

But maybe... maybe he could find a way to feel better. Maybe he could lose himself in the celebration.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally muttered, glancing at his friends.

Sirius didn’t seem convinced but let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, but I’m not letting you go off and brood in some corner. The whole bloody school’s celebrating with you tonight.”

James smirked faintly, feeling a little lighter. Maybe he could pretend to be okay, at least for tonight. He could let the victory, the laughter, and his friends drown out the ache for just a little while longer.

But as the night continued, and as the music played on, James found himself once again looking toward the doorway, hoping—just hoping—that you’d look his way.

For the first time in forever, the world was finally on his side as he saw you quickly leaving Finn and walking straight to him.

“May I speak to you, please?” James nodded, Dumbfounded. 

You quickly grabbed his hand and went outside the common room and into the corridors. 

You took a deep breath, your fingers twisting nervously. “James… I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

James’s throat went dry, his pulse quickening as he struggled to find his voice. “Yeah?”

You nodded, glancing down at your hands before meeting his gaze. “I—I’m sorry.”

That wasn’t what he had expected. Of all the scenarios he’d played out in his head, an apology hadn’t been one of them.

“For what?” he asked, genuine confusion coloring his voice.

“For everything,” you said in a rush, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “For avoiding you. I was confused—about what I did that made you ignore me. And I guess I wanted to get back at you for ignoring me, so I decided to do the same to you. And… I’m sorry for whatever happened between us that made things so weird.”

James stared at you, your vulnerability hitting him like a Bludger to the chest. His heart ached at the uncertainty in your voice.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quickly, shaking his head.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes.

“No, you don’t,” James countered, his tone soft yet resolute. “It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself. You’ve always been there for me, and I—well, I’ve been a terrible friend lately. I was practically acting like you didn’t exist.”

James faltered when he saw the blank expression on your face. Panic flickered in his chest—had he said too much?

But before he could say anything more, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

“Oh, James,” you murmured into his shoulder. “It’s okay. I—I was acting like you didn’t exist too, but only because you were doing it to me.”

He blinked, caught off guard, before slowly relaxing into the hug. He looked down at you, his hand instinctively reaching up to brush away a stray tear trailing down your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, a small, watery smile breaking through. “We’re both sorry. Let’s just… not do this anymore, okay?”

James nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Deal.”

“It feels so much better having my best friend around again.” James’ smile faltered again, he never liked the word “best friend” when it came to you, he always wanted more.

“Definitely”

You two let each other talk for what felt like hours even though it was barely fifteen minutes. He enjoyed every second though, until you brought up Finn and future plans they may include him. He couldn't believe it, when had your parents met his? He remembers your dad telling him how much he was rooting you and him to be together, now he's okay with you dating some other dude? And worst of all, your father was okay with that same dude wanting to marry his daughter? James felt like throwing up.

“Then he said that my father laid it out on a silver platter.”

“Laid... what out on a platter?”

“My future! Gave him the blessing to...to propose. I don't know what to do.”

“You told me you don’t mind being married straight after Hogwarts if you truly loved the man. That being a wife and mother... is your dream. Finn is.. nice, and both of your guys’ parents are supportive. I don't understand. What's holding you back?”

“Just… one thing.”

“What am I supposed to do? Everyone else is just... moving on, and now you’re... and I’m still... We never even... And he’s there, and you’re—Merlin, you’re never going to find someone who—” James stopped, his voice cracking. “I know that much, so how... how am I supposed to... I can’t... I— We...”

Before you could speak–a drunk Sirius somehow found you two. “Woah James you're really speaking to her? Atta boy, now, let's get back to the party, cmon, we are going to do something cool, have you heard of ....” Sirius rambled on, tugging on James’ arm to drag him back to the party.

“I’ll be off, then.” You said, voice quivering as if hesitant to leave.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

All James could think about was the previous night—the talk you two had shared. Your words, your voice, the hesitation in your eyes—it all replayed in his mind like a haunting melody. What would’ve happened if Sirius hadn’t barged in, if James had told him to leave, if he’d been brave enough to stay in that moment with you?

“I think…” James began, his voice breaking as he paced the Gryffindor dormitory, “I think she might’ve been asking if I love her. And—and I think I told her to marry someone else.”

Sirius, slouched in the chair by the window, looked stricken. “Mate…” he started, his tone heavy with guilt. “If I’d known—if I knew what was happening—I wouldn’t have gone looking for you. I—I practically ruined your chances. Merlin, I’m so, so sorry.”

James stopped pacing, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even know if she meant it. She said so much without really saying anything, and now I don’t know if I imagined it all.”

“‘Sure, take option two,’ when option one is all she wants for her future?” James muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

“What is option one?” Peter asked, his curiosity breaking the tension.

James scoffed, bitterness creeping into his tone. “It’s Finn, obviously.” He paused, his anger flaring. “But both their parents support it, and she told me that! Before she spilled all of that on me, we were talking and laughing like nothing was wrong. But now…” He exhaled sharply, his voice softening as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “Now it feels like I’m being asked to explain the rest of my life on a bloody ticking clock. And if I make the wrong decision, I’ve either ruined my life—or hers.”

The room fell silent. Sirius and Peter exchanged uneasy glances, while Remus seemed lost in thought, unsure of how to respond.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Meanwhile, you had confided in your mother about your plans the night before: to finally tell the man you truly loved how you felt. You hadn’t wanted to bring it up while you and James were laughing and enjoying each other’s company, but you knew if you didn’t seize the moment, you’d never say it at all.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to turn you down. To tell you—calmly, almost dismissively—that you should marry Finn.

Your mother was waiting for your response. You knew she expected good news, a letter confirming that you and James were finally together. Instead, you sat at your desk, penning words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Dear Mother,

I did what you told me to do, but I fear I shouldn’t have. We were talking just fine, and then I told him everything. I told him how I felt. And he told me to marry Finn.

Finn is lovely, yes—but he’s not James. I asked James if there was any chance for us, and he said no. At least now I have clarity on where I stand with him. And I know it sounds awful to compare Finn to James, but... maybe knowing what I know now, I can learn to be happy with Finn. Father and Finn’s family are all thrilled, after all. I don’t even want to think about what I would’ve done if James had said he felt the same.

You sighed, folding the parchment carefully and sealing it in an envelope. The weight of your words sat heavily on your chest, but you couldn’t dwell on them any longer. You needed to send this letter immediately.

Pulling on your cloak, you found yourself heading for one of the secret passages to Hogsmeade—the ones you and James had used so often. The memories stung, but you pushed them aside. This time, you’d be using the passage alone.

The quickest way to deliver your letter was through the owlery. You knew exactly which owl was the fastest.

As you walked, you let your mind wander to James one last time, allowing yourself the quiet ache of what could’ve been. You would never speak to him again, not like before. That part of your life was over.

Finn was your future now. And while it hurt to admit, deep down, you knew it was for the best.

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[zykamiliah]

guys. guys the loser shut-in is airplane. he calls himself one in the text

The more he wrote, the more of a shut-in he became, and the more of a shut-in he became, the more he wrote. As a classic worthless otaku, the people with whom he had the best relationships and got along with most were all on the internet, oceans and seas apart. ch.26 airplane extra

sqq wanted to go out and explore shuang hu city all the way back in chapter 2, and the system didn't let him because it would be ooc.

At the same time, how could he not want to go out and play? Up until now, he’d been hunkered down inside Qing Jing Peak’s Bamboo House, forced to fake being an awesome master of arts and literature, meaning everything he did had to be done “blandly” (...) What a damn pain! And now when he finally got a break to take a trip down the mountain, he was still trapped in his room because of the System’s stance that “the original Shen Qingqiu liked quiet and would be unwilling to mingle.” Shen Qingqiu didn’t even want to pretend to meditate, so he lay on the bed, just pretending to be dead. Shortly before sunset, Ming Fan entered the room to deliver a report. Finally, someone had come to talk to him—to keep him company. Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but want to weep for joy. ch.2 mission

this man doesn't like being alone, or shut-in for even short periods of time. if he goes to somewhere knew, he likes to explore!

sqq was also traveling the jianghu even when he was depressed post abyss. yeah yeah he spent a concerning amount of time kneeling at the sword mound, but he didn't spent a lot of time at the sect per se, because everything reminded him of binghe, so he was just-- going out, seeing the world.

Shen Qingqiu lifted the teacup by his hand and scraped at the tea leaves on the surface. “Zhao Hua Monastery is nearest to Jin Lan City, and my impression was that they share a very close relationship. If something did happen, the masters at the temple would have realized something was wrong.” ch.6 jin lan

he was away from the sect all the time, to the point yqy had sent lqg to keep an eye on him, and sqq and lqg have this exchange at the start of the succubi extra, indicative that sqq likely just stopped by the sect when he had to receive treatment for without a cure

“Are you heading back or not?” Liu Qingge interrupted. “After I take care of this support ticket—ah, I mean, after I take care of those succubi, I’ll head back.” “You said that last time too.” “Mm.” “And then you vanished for a month!” “Shixiong won’t die out here. Every time Without a Cure acts up, don’t I always return to Cang Qiong Mountain to look for you? Shidi doesn’t need to go out of his way to chase after me…” ch.23 succubi extra

the only reason he has to stay at home is binghe and when they can't spend that time being all married and papapaing sqq gets restlesss, he NEEDS to occupy his time with something else, like being a teacher

As they say, the greatest form of solitude is solitude within a city. Thus they settled in an especially prosperous town. While Luo Binghe was repairing his martial aspect, they would take up residence there to pass the time. Shen Qingqiu soon got so bored that his bones began to itch, so he casually took up work at the largest academy in the city. ch.28 return to childhood

tl,dr: just like airplane was a shut-in and a bit of a misandrist, lbh and sj were like that too. but sqq is not like that. he likes going out, doing stuff and spending time with other people. from this we can infer he was like that in his previous life too

"Shen Yuan was a loser gooner shut in during his first life" Shen Qingqiu used to be hated by his fellow peak lords until Shen Yuan transmigrated into his body, so it was solely his personality that was so charming people went to war over his corpse. Please be serious

[starlit-writer]

in sickness and in health, ch. 2 - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader

here is chapter two!!!! in writing this chapter, i realized that this little fic has taken on a complete life of its own that i never anticipated, and will have many, many more chapters to come, so if you want to be added to a tag list to make sure you stay up-to-date, let me know in the replies! eat well, lovelies <3

as always, if you want to understand more about my omegaverse au, you can look at my masterpost here, and it'll help explain all of the intricacies that may or may not be explained well enough in these short-form fics!

word count: 4,270 chapter one chapter three masterlist ao3 link

You slept. And you slept. And you slept.

But, Simon held tight to his promise to you. He didn’t leave your side for any longer than necessary, and necessary held a very… loose definition to Simon as you laid on his bed, all but comatose. In the three days since you had shown up at his door, Simon had left the bed maybe five times to relieve himself, and a handful of other times just to growl somebody away from the door who had missed the memo that Simon and you would be out of commission for the foreseeable future. The rest of the time, he just laid next to you, curled up like a guard dog. Sometimes he talked to you, but most of the time, he was just watching your chest as it rose up and down, his fingers resting delicately over your wrist to ensure your heart was still beating. That you were still here.

It had been three days. And you still hadn’t woken up. The worry in Simon’s heart was becoming hard to keep down, and the neglect of his own body was starting to catch up with him. He hadn’t done any work, hadn’t showered, and had barely eaten the food that the team had left at the door. He was going insane with panic, with fear, at the thought that he lost you. That he had killed you.

He never knew what he had had until it was gone.

Simon was spiraling. He sat in the corner of the bed, making sure to keep his thigh pressed against you, but his head was in his hands as his fingers tugged relentlessly at his dirty blond strands. It was his fault. All of this was. He didn’t know how to be a good alpha, let alone any sort of partner that he knew you needed him to be. He was so completely lost in his own tortured mind that he didn’t even hear Soap as he slipped into the room.

It wasn’t until the tray full of food that Soap was carrying clattered to the ground that Simon even noticed he was in there. Simon’s head snapped up, his hackles rising as a vicious growl ripped through his throat. The sound was a clear warning to get the fuck away from him and his mate, but all Soap did was roll his eyes in complete exasperation and take a step closer to your sleeping form.

Simon’s growl intensified at the intrusion, his muscles rippling in preparation to fight. It didn’t matter that this was Johnny, one of the few people on this earth that Simon trusted wholeheartedly. His mate was dying, and Simon’s alpha was tearing itself apart, identifying anything and anyone that got too close to you as a threat. But, the other alpha ignored him. The only sign that Simon got that Soap even heard his posturing was the low, return growl that left Soap’s lips as they curled up to reveal his alpha fangs.

“Haud yer wheesht,” Soap grumbled in reply as his hand came up to rest on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing gently over the joint. Soap’s focus was entirely on you, completely ignoring the massive bulk of Simon just on the other side of you. Soap and you had always been friends, and you had sought comfort in him over the last few months of Simon’s neglect. Guilt gnawed at him that he wasn’t enough, that he couldn’t help prevent the bond sickness from stealing you away, but that guilt was far overshadowed by the rage he felt towards Simon.

“How could ye ever do this to ‘er, huh?” Soap muttered, the words low and dangerous as he finally glanced up at Simon. “She was good. More tha’ good. She was a great fuckin’ medic, better teammate, and now look at ‘er.”

Simon’s alpha growled in response. He knew he had fucked up, destroyed you in ways he was only beginning to comprehend. He would take you yelling at him, telling him how shit he was, but hearing it from Soap, another alpha, was a whole new level of shame and guilt. Simon wasn’t built to hold this much emotion, never taught how to properly deal with his feelings, and he was at his breaking point. His rage was rising, like water that had been left on the stove too long without proper supervision, the bubbles breaking free over the steely confines of the walls he had built around his heart.

The very same confines that had kept him from you.

Simon’s eyes zeroed in on Soap’s hand on your shoulder, and he lost it. He scrambled off of the bed, his movements uncoordinated due to the lack of sleep and sustenance, but still full of the undeniable power that lived within the massive bulk of the alpha. He slapped Soap’s hand away, and grabbed at the straps of his tactical vest. Simon picked the smaller alpha up and spun to press him against the wall, Soap’s head cracking off the drywall. But, it wasn’t enough. Simon hated himself. Hated Soap. Hated everything that he could even remotely tie in as a factor to your comatose state on his bed. Simon gnashed his teeth in Soap’s face, pure, unbridled alpha rage pouring off of him.

Soap just smirked, completely unfazed.

“Oh, I see. Now you can be all protective over ‘er when she’s dying, aye? When it’s yer fuckin’ fault that she wasted away like this? You should’ve been better!” Soap was close to yelling now, his own hands coming up to Simon’s throat. Soap wasn’t going to kill him, no, the only thing that that would accomplish right now is causing more harm to you. But, dammit, if he wasn’t close.

Soap squeezed at Simon’s throat, his alpha claws digging into the mating bite on the side of the larger alpha’s throat. “I should rip that fuckin’ bite right off of ye, ye know that right?”

Simon roared, jerking his neck around to get Soap’s claws as far away as possible from the scent gland that held the imprint of your smaller omega fangs - the last thing truly tying him to you. He was far too gone with his rage, his alpha bursting against the confines of his skin, to even begin to formulate a response. All he could see was the red-hot haze of his rage, of his grief, the anguish that had settled so permanently into his bones over the last three days.

Soap grinned, a mean, sadistic thing that did little more than show off his alpha fangs. It was a challenge, an expression eerily similar to what a predator does when defending their territory. But you were not Soap’s territory. He knew that. He wasn’t trying to vye for your affection or to stake claim on you. His goal was single-minded: get Simon pissed enough to finally admit that he needs you, that he’ll fight for you, for your health, and that he’ll never abandon you this way again.

And if he wouldn’t? Well, Soap wasn’t looking for an omega of his own. Mainly just saw you as a constant in his life, in his pack, but he would single-handedly rip out that mating bite that glared, swollen and red from the strain of the bond, on the edge of Simon’s throat with his own claws and claim you as his own, if it meant fixing you, giving you some sort of stability.

“Ye did this to ‘er! Yer neglect, yer fuckin’ issues, made ‘er this way! All because your head was so far up your goddamned arse you couldn’t see it! She deserves better! She deserves an alpha who will take care of ‘er, not someone who will abandon her for months on end in hopes of getting blown to pieces!”

“I know!” Simon roared in response as he lifted Soap away from the wall again and slammed him back into it. “I know!” His grip on Soap started to falter as tears welled up in his eyes. He let go of Soap with one hand, the smaller alpha falling back to his feet on the ground as Simon scraped his hand across his face to prevent the tears from falling.

“I… I just… I don’t know how to do this, Johnny. It’s not like I grew up with a…” Simon trailed off, his voice thick with tears and regret as he completely let go of Soap to run his hands through his hair in anguish. “My father was an awful man. A horrendous example of an alpha. He… the things he did, Johnny, to me, to Tommy, to my poor fuckin’ mum… the only promise I made to myself when I left that place and let it burn to the ground was to never be like him. And that meant keeping myself as far away from any omega as I possibly could. I never wanted this! And then the brass gave that ultimatum, and shoved us together, and… and I sure as shit wasn’t gonna be the reason that she got kicked out of the place that she worked tooth and nail to get to! I didn’t know how to be an alpha! I didn’t know how to protect her, and I had no one to ask! I just… I… I just didn’t know…”

Soap stood against the wall, mouth agape as he looked down at the massive, trembling form of the man he considered his best friend. Somewhere in his monologue, Simon had completely collapsed onto his knees, his head back in his hands, but Soap was too busy listening to the raw, honest truth falling from Simon’s tear-stained lips to even begin to try and guess when it had happened. Soap was in shock. But, he was at even more of a loss at how to comfort the other alpha.

Soap crouched down beside Simon, his hand awkwardly, yet gently, patting his shoulder as Simon’s hulking form shook from the force of his silent tears, his agony. Soap sighed as he rubbed his other hand over the back of his own neck. What the fuck had he gotten himself into?

“Ghost, I… I think you need to go talk to Price. Maybe get in with the base therapist.”

Simon stiffened under Soap’s touch as those words left his mouth. He didn’t want to go talk to Price, even if he was his captain and a part of his pack. He didn’t want to have to admit to his failures to the same person who gave him orders, signed off on his paychecks. And a therapist? Yeah, he talked to a therapist, he’d just about be signing off on his own discharge forms.

Soap felt it. How his words affected Simon. He sighed again, a low rumble reverberating from his chest in an attempt to provide some comfort to the larger alpha. It was normally a move reserved for comforting a pup, or a distressed omega, but Soap was truly at a loss of what to do here. He had never seen Simon break down like this.

“Ghost, Price can help. He’s been with his bonnie lass for years, and they’re happy with pups runnin’ ‘round. Just… you can’t keep doin’ this to ‘er. And if that means you need direction, need to see how to be an alpha… at least talk to Price. She deserves an alpha who can be there for her, at the very least.”

Simon nodded slowly, wiping his hand across his face again. He felt weak, like a failure, but he knew he had to try.

You never knew what you had until it was gone.

Yeah, well, he knew now. And he wasn’t ever going to let it go again.

Simon lifted his head, his watery brown eyes meeting Soap’s determined baby blues. There was still anger in Soap’s eyes, but he was shoving it away. No point in kicking his friend while he was already down.

“I… I can’t just leave her here.”

“I’ll stay with her,” came Soap’s immediate response. You had sought solace in him over the last few months, and as another alpha from your pack, you would probably be the most comfortable with him around, even if your alpha was gone.

Hearing Soap’s immediate reply made something in Ghost’s alpha twist with distress, aching at the idea of another alpha taking care of his omega, even if it was another member of his pack. A low growl born of his alpha’s displeasure of the situation rumbled out of his throat for a moment before he quickly cut it off by clearing it. Simon knew this needed to be done, and sooner rather than later. He had to fix his ways, to see what it meant to truly be the type of alpha that you needed, that you deserved. But, before he agreed, he had to know one thing.

“Do you love her?”

Soap froze, his head rearing back slightly in shock. Did he love you? “What?”

“You heard me. Do you love her?”

“Simon, she’s a part of our pack. She always has been, even before you and her mated. So, yes, I love her, but not… not like that.”

Simon nodded slowly, his joints aching as he stood up to his full height again. Everything hurt. His muscles were sore from lack of movement, sleep, and nutrition, and his heart and soul felt as if they had been ripped to shreds. Your end of the bond felt like it had been shrouded in impenetrable inky blackness, which just made him feel even more empty. Gods, it used to annoy him to no end to feel your neverending presence in his mind, but now he would give anything, his own life, just to feel it again.

Soap breathed out a silent sigh of relief as he saw the acceptance in Simon’s nod. His best friend was going to be okay, both of you would be. He had to believe it. And, in classic Soap fashion, he couldn’t help but try to chip away the sour, somber mood in the room by cracking a joke.

“But, ye fuck it up again, and I really will rip that mating bite right out of ye, ye can bet on tha’.”

Simon glared at him, but it was the first bit of normalcy he had felt in… months. He shoved at Soap’s shoulder, but all it did was make the smaller alpha’s cocky smirk widen.

“Fuck off, Johnny,” Simon mumbled half-heartedly as he pulled off the tank top he had slipped on after you had fallen asleep, and he tucked it gently next to your head to ensure you still had his scent while he was gone. He ran a gentle, almost reverent finger down your cheek, smoothing an errant piece of your hair back behind your ear. He sighed softly, his guilt threatening to break free again, but he quickly stepped back from you and tugged on a sweatshirt. He glanced at Soap, his gaze glinting with a possessive protectiveness.

Soap, knowing exactly what was running through his mind, put his hands up in a placating manner.

“I won’ touch ‘er. Just don’ be gone too long, aye?”

Simon grumbled something under his breath but nodded, grabbing his keys and shoving them in his pocket before he opened the door. He paused in the open doorway with one last, longing glance back at you filled with all of the pain and regret and guilt swirling through his veins before he finally stepped through and shut the door behind him with a soft click.

—

He didn’t want to be here. To be doing this but he would, if it meant fixing you. He stood in front of Price’s office door, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he tried to muster up enough courage to knock. The light was on, so Simon knew Price was in there. Hopefully he was just doing paperwork, and not anything… else.

Simon sighed loudly, scraping a hand down his face before he shook out his arms. He just needed to open the door. And, you know, pour his heart and soul out to the Captain, but that would come after. However, he didn’t get the chance.

“You gonna stand out there all day or are you comin’ in?”

Shit. Simon squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he took a deep breath. He could do this. For you, he could. He had to. He shouldered open the door, but he kept his gaze on the ratty red carpet of Captain Price’s office. Mmm, low-pile. Probably feel really scratchy on his face when Price inevitably-

“Ah, Simon. I’ve been expecting you.”

Fuck. Simon felt untethered, for lack of a better word. He couldn’t get a read on Price’s expression as the older, greying alpha moved his glasses off of the bridge of his nose and carefully folded the arms in to set them on the giant wooden desk in front of him. Simon made a point to keep his gaze away from the gouged out claw marks on the surface of the desk. Simon swallowed thickly and looked back down at the carpet in front of him. He had never had to ask for help before, at least, not like this. Not anything that meant showing his weakness, his losing hand, the fact that he’s a shit ass alpha.

“Uh, yeah. I… um, sir, I need… help.” Gods, kill him now.

“Yeah,” Price breathed out harshly as he stretched his arms back around his head. “Yeah, I’d say you do.”

Simon winced at Price’s words. He sounded like a disappointed father, or, at least, what Simon imagined a disappointed father would sound like, and he felt like he had been brought into the principal’s office after painting graffiti on the side of the building during recess. He finally brought his gaze up to the older Alpha, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

“Captain, listen, I-”

Price cut him off with a raise of his hand as he stood up. Simon watched with wide eyes as Price grabbed a cigar out of the humidor that had always laid on his desk. Price grabbed his lighter, and placed the cigar between his lips before he turned away from Simon and looked out the window in the back of his office. A few moments later, and Simon heard the shink of the lighter catching, and he watched as a thick plume of dark grey smoke rose above Price’s form.

“You should’ve come to me for help sooner.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Price questioned, looking back at Simon over his shoulder.

“You’ve been running for years, Simon. Even before she came into the picture. And I let you. I shouldn’t have, but I kept hoping you would figure it out. And then, well, you didn’t. And then I watched you continue to close yourself off, to keep your distance. I watched as you brushed her off over, and over, and over again. And, I admit, as the pack leader, I should have stepped in. Should have forced you to stay on base and figure your shit out, but, tactically, it would’ve been a mistake to keep you here. So, we’re here now. What’s happened has happened. How are you going to fix it?”

Simon stood there, slack jawed and wide eyed as Captain John Price just essentially ripped down every single one of his defenses, his excuses, in one fell swoop. He wrung his hands in front of him, feeling exactly like he had been flayed open, all of his weaknesses and failures laid out in the open like intestines.

“I… I don’t know. That’s why I came here. I was looking for… pointers, I guess. Of how to be a better alpha- fuck, how to just be a good alpha. How to treat an omega. I wasn’t ever… I didn’t have good role models for that shit, and I just- well, Johnny said-”

“Will you actually listen?”

“What?”

Price took a deep inhale of the thick, grey smoke and held it as he turned to look at Simon face-on, studying Simon’s shaking form, the wild, lost look in his eyes, before he exhaled. Price kept his face schooled in a neutral expression, but he really did feel for Simon. He had once been a lost alpha like him, confused on how to even begin to take on the responsibility of an omega, how to take care of them. “If we have this conversation, will you actually take what I say into consideration? Or are you going to attempt for a few days, get frustrated, and then give up?”

Simon winced as Price continued to lay into him with that same cold, calculating gaze he used when discussing potential battle plans. Simon sighed softly, letting his head fall back to stare at the ceiling for a moment before he rolled his shoulders and looked at Price. “I have to fix this.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

Price grinned around his cigar and sat back down at the desk, his fingers tracing idly over the claw marks in the surface of the wood. He gestured his arm out, inviting Simon to sit across from him. Simon squeezed into the chair, his large bulk making the chair creak in protest. He leaned back, trying to feign a confident, or at the very least, unaffected air, but all of his thoughts just kept coming back to you, his knee bouncing in a very distracting fashion as he fought every urge to just run back to his quarters, just to check on you.

Price smirked and steepled his hands in front of him, resting his chin on his thumbs. “You’re scared, ain’t ya?”

Simon nodded, biting down on his plush lower lip.

“Good. Means ya care. You’re just shit at showing it.”

Simon’s lips pressed into a thin line, but what could he do? He couldn’t protest the truth. He was already flayed open, might as well attempt to dissect and treat the diseased portions where he has been keeping all of his shit coping mechanisms.

“Did you ever court her?” Price asked, watching Simon skeptically. He could guess at the answer, as the relationship between you and Simon was far from traditional.

“No, I… Price, the brass gave us an ultimatum, you know that. I didn’t have time!”

“Not before, you didn’t, but what about after? You still could have courted her. Maybe then you would’ve trusted each other more, and we wouldn’t all be in this situation. Do you even know her favorite food? Flower? Song to dance to at 3 am in the kitchen? Color?”

With each question, Simon sank further and further into himself. He felt like the worst alpha on the planet. And, honestly, he probably was, or else you wouldn’t be still laying in his bed practically comatose.

Captain Price sighed and rubbed his thumb over the deep-set lines in his forehead. “Alright, well, those are good places to start, I guess, but… being an alpha isn’t all about gift giving and protecting. You have to listen to her. And I don’t just mean the words out of her mouth - although those are still very important - I also mean her pheromones. Her body language. Her microexpressions. All of the things she doesn’t say.”

“What!? How am I-”

Price put his hand up again to stop the tirade that he knew was about to come pouring out of Simon. “You pay attention. That’s it. It ain’t rocket science, Simon. You’ve led how many teams through how many missions? I’m sure you can figure out if one omega prefers dark or milk chocolate.”

Simon sighed loudly, the sound trailing off into a growl. He felt so stupid. He had been too focused on himself, on his own trauma and his own issues that he had completely neglected the bare minimum for you. He had so much to make up for. He slammed his forehead down into the desk in frustration, the force making the pens on the desk jump. “I should’ve just allowed the brass to kick me out. At least then she could’ve been forced to mate someone who could actually provide for her.”

Price shrugged, leaning back in his own chair as he puffed on his cigar. “No point in thinkin’ like that. You guys are mates, and that bond stayed together for a lot longer than I ever thought it would. That means somethin’, you know. So, you’ve really only got one option. You’ve gotta fix it. Listen to her. Pay attention. Make her feel cared for.”

Simon nodded, his forehead still pressed against the cold wood of the desk, but something Price said kept sticking in his brain, ruminating like a dog trying to lick peanut butter off of the roof of its mouth.

“That means something?” Simon asked, looking up at Price, skeptically looking for clarification.

Price just grinned and pretended to zip his mouth shut before waving Simon off. “Go back to your girl. If you still haven’t figured it out in a few weeks, come talk to me. But remember, court her. Especially after all of this. Show her you care. That you can be a good alpha.”

Simon furrowed his brow, not thrilled about not getting an answer about what Price meant, but got up from his seat. He had been dismissed, and all he wanted to do was get back to you.

Courting. Courting. Right. He could do that. Right?

tag list: @kerst666 @misscaller06 @letaliabane @sai-int @itsmeamysworld @massivescissorsthingperson @aeeliy

[capitanoidyll]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 13 | What Belongs to Him

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

Previous | Fic Masterlist | Next

You originally thought that sleep would be hard to come by, however, you were proven wrong when you woke up the next morning. Your body feeling better than yesterday thanks to the medicine that Luocha gave you. Sitting up in bed, you looked around your room, and then to your bedroom door. Your room, as far as you knew was your only safe haven and a place you could hopefully let your guard down. Though, you still worried… what if someone was in here right now hiding? You closed your eyes and tried to listen carefully, but you couldn’t pinpoint anything.

Moze has definitely left an impression on you…

Shaking your head after a few moments, you finally got out of bed. There was a dull ache in your legs and back, but it was bearable thankfully.

Now, Jing Yuan said my maids will help me today, but… ever since coming here no maid has ever made such an effort. Maybe once or twice, but that was about it. Probably because they don’t like me all that much.

You sighed at your thoughts and went for your wardrobe. Opening the closest doors, your eyes roamed over your dresses. Wait… are there more in here than before? You decided not to question it as you went for a dress that just so happened to be your favorite color. If Jing Yuan asks about it, then you could just say that he had said that it was your favorite color and that you could understand why you liked it so much now that you see it in person. Now, putting the dress on proved to be a hassle but you managed… somehow.

“Ok… so now what?”

You looked to your bedroom door again. Do you even risk it? Then again, it definitely beats staying in here all day.

So, gathering nay courage that you had, you went to your door.

“Ok, so I’m a princess with amnesia, and I’m to be married to the Emperor. In other words, I should act like I own the place, right?”

Steeling yourself, you opened the door and stepped out of your bedroom. Looking left and then right, you decided to head right. (You knew that the kitchen and dining room were that way, but you would just tell anyone that asks that you took a guess on which way to go.)

Walking down the halls, you noticed how some of the maids avoided you, not that you minded. You didn’t particularly want to talk to them either. It wasn’t until you passed by the stairs that you fell down that you stopped.

Thinking about it now, this means you fell down these stairs twice, right?

I hope I don’t make it three…

“y/n.”

You jumped a little and spun on your heel to look at who had spoken to you, but the voice was distinct. You already knew who it was.

“Yuan?”

The Emperor was smiling at you, “I’m surprised that you’re already out of bed,” he said as he came to stand next to you his eyes shifting from you to the stair case.

“Well, I know you said my maids will assist me, but no one ever came to check up on me, and…,” you shifted from foot to foot, “since I’m to marry you…. I thought I was allowed to walk around. Did I- did I mess up?”

Jing Yuan chuckled softly as he held out his arm for you. Taking a moment to realize what he was doing, you hesitantly wrapped your hands around his arm. One hand on his bicep and the other on his forearm. Once you gotten a hold on him, he started to go towards the stairs and with a shaky step from you, you both began to descend the stairs.

“You’re allowed to go anywhere your heart desires within my domain. Though, I do ask that you be escorted.”

You wondered if he could feel your fingers tremble against his arm. His arm, to which you noticed was lined with taught muscle. Focus, y/n, focus!

“I- I’m sorry, no one was by my door either…”

“I know, Blade, your bodyguard, was taking care of some business for me. He’ll be by your side again after breakfast.”

“Then is that why you were coming down the hall? To come get me?”

You saw a glint in his eyes as he smiled at you.

Once down the stairs, you went to let go of his arm, but he raised his other hand to keep your hands where they were. You looked back at the steps.

“Was this the staircase I fell down?”

Jing Yuan looked to where your eyes were watching, “yes, it was. Do you remember anything?”

You shook your head, “I just.. have a feeling is all,” you looked back up at Jing Yuan as he turned his gaze back to your face, “how about the one who pushed me… I heard it was.. a maid?”

“Yes,” you could hear the sigh in his voice, “a maid, but I wouldn’t worry about her. She has been properly dealt with.”

You couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine. While you were sleeping in bed… some maid was getting killed.

“But why not give her a punishment instead?”

Jing Yuan hummed thoughtfully as he dropped his arm causing you to let go of his bicep and forearm.

And all too quickly he was in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks as his thumbs pressed right under your jaw and tilting your head up. You could feel the way your breath hitched and how your heart seemed to skip every other beat.

“Because little sparrow, I truly despise when someone damages what belongs to me.”

He let one hand fall from your cheek to rest against your throat. His fingers encircled your throat with careful precision as he leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips that contrasted with the way he held you in place. And all too soon his hands didn’t feel to domineering or suffocating as he moved them to slide down your arms and to your hips. His lips slowly detach from you as you silently caught your breath.

“Now, princess, let’s go eat breakfast. I was sure to tell the chefs to cook your favorites.”

He was going to kill you again; you were sure of it.

Taglist pt 1

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbunn @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[cosmiclily]

chapter two: begin again

wc: 1.1k

As the van pulled away from the hotel, the excitement in the air was palpable, though tension lingered beneath the surface. Everyone seemed focused—Ekko scrolling through the setlist on his phone, Jinx half-humming a melody she was tinkering with, and Archie furiously typing on his tablet, probably juggling logistics for the added tour dates.

Vi, however, sat quietly in the back, her sunglasses still on as she leaned her head against the window. The rhythmic hum of the van seemed to lull her into a daze, but you weren’t sure if she was lost in thought or just trying to block everything out. It had been weeks since she’d been the person you once knew.

After a few minutes, you slid into the seat beside her. “You good?” you asked, keeping your voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but you wanted to know where her head was at.

She didn’t respond right away, her gaze fixed on the blur of trees and buildings outside. Finally, she sighed. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice sounding small. “I feel like… I’m not ready for this. For any of it.”

You frowned, the concern thick in your chest. “You don’t have to be ready for everything all at once. Just show up, Vi. That’s all anyone’s asking.”

She turned to you then, pulling her sunglasses down slightly to reveal her tired, red-rimmed eyes. She looked vulnerable, like a piece of her was still trying to catch up to the life you were all living. “What if I show up and it’s not enough? What if I mess it up for everyone?”

You leaned forward, locking eyes with her. “You won’t,” you said firmly, trying to keep the doubt from creeping into your own words. “You’ve got us, Vi. We’ll figure it out together. You’re not doing this alone. We’re a band—we’ve always been a band. And no matter what happens, we’ll make it.”

She studied you for a moment, her expression softening just a bit. You could see the struggle behind her tired eyes, the weight of her past months still clinging to her. “Thanks,” she murmured, slipping her sunglasses back into place and leaning her head back against the seat. “I’ll try.”

The rest of the ride passed mostly in silence, save for the occasional rustle of papers from Archie or Jinx’s off-key humming. You caught glimpses of her, her fingers absently tapping the window, lost in the rhythm of the van as it bumped along the road. You hoped, for both of your sakes, that she really would try. And that, someday soon, she’d find her way back to the person she used to be.

As you neared the next venue, you found yourself gripping the edge of your seat, a nervous energy building in your chest. These next shows could change everything—but only if you could keep things from falling apart.

You glanced back at Vi one last time. For all her flaws and struggles, she was still the backbone of the band. If she could just find her footing, you knew she’d be unstoppable.

──────────────────────

The next concerts went surprisingly smoothly. Despite the sharp lecture Archie had given Vi after her rough morning, it seemed like something had finally clicked for her. It was as if she’d “woken up” to what was truly at stake. She started drinking less, showing up on time, and, for once, staying present. The days of her vanishing without a word or stumbling in late were seemingly behind her. Things were starting to look up—not just for Vi, but for the entire band.

Everyone could feel the shift. There was a new sense of focus and determination in the air, the kind that only comes when you realize just how close you are to something big. The upcoming shows weren’t just concerts—they were stepping stones toward something greater. And while every performance mattered, there was a special buzz surrounding the final concert in LA.

Not only would it be the biggest show of the tour, but it also carried an unspoken weight. LA wasn’t just another city; it was the heart of the industry, the place where dreams were either made or shattered. This performance had the potential to solidify the band’s reputation, and everyone knew it.

As the tour rolled on, Vi’s transformation became more noticeable. During rehearsals, her drumming was sharper, her beats more precise, and her timing impeccable. She poured all her energy into her kit, the raw emotion of her breakup with Caitlyn channeling into every strike of the snare and crash of the cymbals. There was a fire in her playing that hadn’t been there in weeks, and it was impossible not to feel it.

The rest of the band fed off that energy. Jinx’s solos were more daring, Ekko’s rhythms tighter than ever, and even you felt a renewed sense of purpose every time you stepped on stage. The crowds noticed too. Each night, the cheers grew louder, the applause lasting longer. You could see new fans sharing videos of the shows online, tagging the band in posts, and even singing along to songs that had only been released a few months ago.

By the time you reached LA, the anticipation was electric. The venue was massive, a far cry from the dingy bars and tiny clubs where you’d started. As the crew unloaded the equipment and set up for the night, Archie pulled the band aside for a pep talk.

“This is it,” he said, his voice brimming with pride and a touch of nervousness. “You’ve worked your asses off to get here, and now’s your chance to prove you deserve to stay here. The label reps will be in the crowd, along with some big names in the industry. But don’t let that get to you. Just do what you do best, and you’ll knock them dead.”

For a moment, the weight of the situation felt heavy, but then you looked around at your bandmates. Jinx was grinning ear to ear, her hands twitching with excitement. Ekko was nodding confidently, a quiet determination in his eyes. And Vi—Vi was sitting behind her drum kit, gripping her sticks tightly, her gaze steady and clear.

As the lights dimmed and the crowd roared, you stepped onto the stage with your heart pounding in your chest. The band took their places, and for a brief second, there was silence—a moment of calm before the storm.

LA wasn’t the end. It was just the beginning.

──────────────────────

masterlist - chapter three

notes: short chspter, just for transition, the next one things are gonna be interesting 😋😋😋

tags: @saturnhas82moons @baylegend6

(if you wanna be added to the taglist, lmk)

[damnfeelings09]

Animals AU - Shadow's version

A.N: Hello! Chapter 1 is finally here and I'm really proud of it. I decided to use the inspo from the video I posted days ago and this is what I got. I'm planning around 10 chapters for this one. Also RED PARTS ARE STALKER THOUGHTS, and GREEN ARE YOURS. With that I'm out and don't forget to lock your windows at night, he might be watching.

NFSW: blood, stalking, fear, weapons, fighting, bad lenguage, smut. +18

“Baby I'm preying on you tonight

Hunt you down eat you alive

Just like animals…”

“So... you got a boyfriend?” said the voice on the other side of the phone. You had no idea who you were talking to. Stupid? Probably. Exciting? Hell yes!

“Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?”  you asked in the most captivating tone possible.

“Maybe…” he said, a smug, seductive smile forming on his face. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“You never told me your name.”

“Why you wanna know my name?” you laughed. This conversation had been the most interesting part of your week. You had no idea who you were talking to; it was a stranger. An unknown number, written on the front page of the psychiatry book you had checked out from the library, along with a note that said, "Call here to have fun." Too tempting not to try. You were in your last year, your grades were perfect, and you had been accepted for an internship at the GUN Hospital next year. Everything was going grat, a little fun couldn’t hurt, right? Mailo had tried to convince you that it was a bad idea to call, but in the end, your curiosity won over your good judgment. The first time the call came in, you hung up after a second. Scared, your heart racing, before you could do anything else, the incoming call screen appeared. Soon, you found yourself trapped in his deep voice. Damn, anyone with that voice had to be fucking hot, and if not, you could always close your eyes and listen to his voice until you came.

“I wanna know who am I looking at” You froze, cold sweat dripping down your neck. Quickly getting up from the bed, you looked out the window. Outside, darkness reigned, only the trees and the other side of the sidewalk were barely visible. It was impossible, but when your skin tingled, you knew it was real—there was someone out there. He was out there, watching you. You heard laughter coming from the phone and immediately hung up. With your heart racing, you ran through the house, making sure all the doors and windows were shut, all alarms and lights on. Going back to your room, you locked yourself in the bathroom. This would be a long night.

The alarm woke you up, sore and with a swollen face from the bad night, you got ready for the day. You hated Mondays, but this Monday, in particular, was terrible. You hadn’t slept at all and had hidden like a coward in your bathtub. You had allowed the psycho phone man to gain power over you, and even more, secretly, you’d enjoyed it.

“Someone didn't have a good night,” said Mailo as you both were walking down the main hallway.

“I slept in the tub” you mentioned as you craned your neck to the side trying to find that sweet spot that would make your vertebrae settle or end your life, whichever came first.

“Ouch why?”

“Ah...” You couldn't tell him what had happened. You'd be branded stupid, and scolded by your best friend, it would be a humiliating “Let a friend crash last night” you lied.

“Which friend bunny? The imaginary one?” you heard as he laughed at you walking into the gym, slamming the door in your face. Stupid, sexy Shadow.

“Fuck you sombrita” You abhorred the day your paths had crossed. 2 years ago Shadow had arrived, with a glowing recommendation letter from Commander Maisland they let him enroll in any course he wanted because he would be “the salvation of the world”. Yeah right, that moron couldn't save anyone.

According to gossip, he had been on the resistance team back in Angel’s Island. Surprising to many, even to you until you met him. You were coming back from vacation, in a hurry to get to your anatomy class, you missed breakfast and had to run from the parking lot to the classroom in less than 10 minutes. When you arrived you sat next to Mailo, but during the whole class you could not pay attention, the class was too boring and your attention could not focus on the vascularization of the femur. You settled into your seat and taking advantage of the fact that the light was off, you closed your eyes, heading for dreamland. A hand wrapped around your hair pushing you, causing you to knock onto the table and woke up. You turned around, behind you was a hedgehog with jet black fur and red tips, looking at you with amusement, covering his mouth to keep from laughing.

“You have something on your forehead,” he said, letting out a laugh. You raised your hand and took your pencil; it had stuck to your forehead after the blow you had given against the table. That day you had earned a scolding, an extra job and an enemy.

Shadow was a bastard, with airs and graces. Taunting you whenever he could, pissing you off and competing with you every chance he got. It wasn't like there was much of a chance, he was the ultimate lifeform, at least that was what every professor called him. You hated the moment you found out you would be together once again. The self-defense and advanced martial arts class had run out of instructors, so they had put the two groups together and now you were forced to see him 3 times a week. “It will only be 6 months” you said to yourself as you and Mailo walked in.

Your group consisted of 12 people. 7 for self-defense L1, including you, Mailo, Grant, Susane, Alissa, Roger, and Dalia. The other 5 were supposed to be from advanced martial arts. The instructor, Agent Rios, called them to the center of the gym where the mats were. Quickly, you took off your shoes and tied your hair in a high ponytail. "Listen up, the university doesn’t have the budget to hire more instructors, so I’ll be teaching both levels. However, you’re not the only groups I have, and to make things easier for me, I’ve decided to pair one advanced person with the level 1s. I’ll call out your names and you’ll pair up with your partner on one of the mats, then I’ll tell you what we’ll do next."

"Oh hell no…," you thought. “Alissa and Rene, Roger and Rouge, Dalia and Ivana.” "Hello, God? It’s me again. I know I haven’t been very good, and I really don’t care what you think, but please, don’t let me..." You begged. You really didn’t want to be with him. Anyone but him.

“Susane and Richard, Miss Moon and Shadow, Mailo with me. Alright, that’s everyone. Now, pair up and start warming up. I’ll be back in 10 minutes."

“Excuse me, professor, is there a possibility of changing my partner?" you said, walking behind him. "It’s just that Mailo and I…” “Listen Miss Moon, I saw you last semester. You’re terrible and have no strength. That hedgehog is your best option if you want to pass the year, now if you excuse me" Agent Rios walked past you. Now you had no other choice but to try. The self-defense class was mandatory for all students, even if you weren’t planning to pursue a career in the battlefield there was no getting out of it.

“Great, now I’ll have to worry about two psychos.” You thought as you walked back to the mat where Shadow was waiting for you.

[evangelical04]

A Single Daffodil || 7

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 6.2K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: maybe some angst?? not really, it's pretty fluffy

Author's Note: hello hello!! i hope you're all well! sorry (again) for taking so long to get this out, but i think i'm as happy as i can be with this chapter. it's not perfect and i'm worried it'll be boring, but i like it, i think! well, i had fun writing it at least, and i hope you have fun reading it! it isn't super closely proofread so i'm sorry for any errors, i just wanted to get this posted today!!

TAGLIST CLOSED [follow asingledaffodil tag for all notifications]

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The alarm blaring in your ear felt foreign and your eyes were bleary as you blinked awake, vision slowly coming into focus. Momentarily, you forgot why you’d set your alarm, having gotten too used to sleeping in the past two weeks, but your senses soon came back to you. It was your first day back to the office after your extended vacation in place of a honeymoon. 

The idea of it made you laugh slightly, like there was ever a honeymoon in the cards for you, but you soon silenced when you remembered the past weekend. Yoongi and you had gone on a semi-date, which meant that you would probably end up dating, which would lead to marriage (even though you were already married), and then a real honeymoon? Your head spun, it was too early to be overthinking like this. 

You finally silenced your alarm, dragging yourself out of your warm duvet and shuffling toward your bathroom. Sleepily completing your morning routine, you got dressed for work and made your way downstairs. You usually neglected breakfast in favor of a small snack before lunch at the office and you smiled at the kitchen counter, seeing a small container of riceballs that Mrs. Lim had likely prepared for you. You could hear her puttering around in the far room, seemingly doing laundry.

You grabbed the container, slipping it into your tote bag, and began walking to the door, before startling at Yoongi’s voice coming from the top of the stairs. 

“Y/N, wait a second,” he called, making his way down the stairs, “Want to go to work together?”

Your eyebrows raised at the suggestion, not even realizing he was still at home. Home? You supposed it was your home now. You weren’t sure when you had started to refer to it that way. 

“Sure, but I usually take the bus,” you responded, watching him gather his things and approach you at the door. 

“Oh,” Yoongi responded, slightly breathless, “That’s fine. I can take it with you.”

You thought for a moment, the Min Industries building was a block or so down from your own office, so you figured it should work out. 

“Okay, then I’m ready whenever you are,” you mentioned. Yoongi nodded, slipping on his shoes, “Let’s go.”

The two of you made your way to the bus stop in a comfortable silence, enjoying the bustling scene of a morning in Seoul. When you both reached the bus stop, Yoongi spoke up, “Do you have any specific plans this week?”

You closed your eyes, racking your brain, “No, not really. But I’ll probably working a lot of overtime since I missed two weeks.”

“Oh,” Yoongi responded, “That’s unfortunate.”

You smiled, turning to face him, “I’ll find some time for us to hang out, promise.” You brushed a stray hair off his forehead, making his eyes widen and his head quickly turn away.

You giggled softly, apparently you still had it. It was kind of fun to flirt with him. 

The bus soon arrived and you entered, scanning your card and making your way down the aisle before hearing the bus driver’s stern voice ring out. 

“Sir, your transportation card?”

You turned to find Yoongi with a confused look on his face, seemingly at a loss at what the bus driver meant. The scene made you shake your head and smile, reaching over to scan your pass once again and bowing an apology to the bus driver. You grabbed Yoongi’s wrist, tugging him to one of the empty pairs of seats and gently guided him into the far one by the window. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “I’ve never actually taken the bus before.” He scratched the back of his head, you could see his ears tinging red. You squeezed his wrist before letting go, “It’s alright, I’d figured as much. It’s kind of nice to have company on the morning commute.”

Yoongi sent a gummy smile your way making you exhale harshly, it felt like one of the first real smiles you’d seen of him and it was breathtaking. His hard edges and steely eyes softened, it was a sight you wanted to imprint on your mind. You distracted yourself by opening up your phone and scrolling through some recent texts, feeling Yoongi’s presence boring into your own.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Yoongi take one last glance at you before grasping your hand in his own and entangling your fingers. It caused you to look up at him but he was already turned, facing the window, fingers still tightly gripping your hand. 

You felt the heat spread on your face but you settled into it anyway, enjoying the feeling of Yoongi’s palm against your own. The rest of the ride to your stop was largely silent, with you focused on the warmth emanating from Yoongi’s hand. You felt like a teenager with a crush. You were just holding hands! What was the big deal? Yet, it still felt like one. 

The scenery caught your attention when a cafe you frequented flew by, signaling that your stop was next. Yoongi seemed caught in the view from the window so you drew his attention by tugging gently on his hand, still flush against yours. He looked over at you questioningly before you started rising out of your seat. The bus came to a slow stop and you gently pulled him to the door, scanning your card twice quickly and exiting with Yoongi close behind. 

As the two of you stood on the sidewalk, you were unsure of where to go from here. Your office would be in the opposite direction from his, so it seemed that this was where you split ways. Yoongi didn’t seem to realize this as he began walking to his office, stopping when he felt the resistance from your hand, as you stood in place. 

He turned, ears tinged pink, “Oh, right, OK is that way. I guess this is goodbye.”

You smiled, untangling your fingers from his, “See you at home, Yoongi.”

His mouth parted before breaking into a small smile, “See you.” 

You turned quickly, feeling your cheeks warm, and started walking quickly to your building. All you did was ride the bus with him, yet it felt exhilarating, what was happening to you? You were supposed to be just friends right now, you couldn’t afford to fall this quickly.

Well, you supposed that nothing was really stopping you but yourself, but you still had your principle! You had to hold steadfast, you were the one who’d asked to start as friends first after all. 

Feeling your phone buzz in your hands, you glanced down to catch Namjoon’s name in your notifications. You opened his message while navigating through the crowds on the sidewalk, fantasizing about the iced tea in the cafe in the lobby of your building. 

From: Kim Namjoon

Good morning, Y/N-ssi! I managed to get tickets to that art gallery we were talking about, I stayed up almost all night, but it was worth it! I’ll send you the details when I’m more coherent, have a good day at work!

You smiled down at your phone, sending off a quick confirmation and well wishes for his sleep schedule. As you pushed open the doors to your office building, the cafe stationed off to the right felt like a beacon in the bustling morning office rush. The barista, Junmi, greeted you warmly as you approached the register, “Hi, unnie! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, were you on vacation?”

You shot her a conspiratorial wink, “Something like that.” She rung up your order, knowing it by heart by now, and held out her hand for your card. You handed it over while your eyes raked over the bakery display next to the counter, but you knew you already had the riceballs Mrs. Lim provided. No way you can justify another purchase, even if it was for the softest looking croissant in the world. 

“Unnie,” Junmi exclaimed, startling you from your bread infused daze, “Your ring! Did you get married?”

“Oh,” you chuckled awkwardly, “Yeah, I did.”

“Wow, congratulations! Here, have a croissant, on the house. That’s so exciting! You’ll have to show me pictures sometime,” she smiled, handing you back your card before turning away to prepare your drink. 

As you walked past security gate toward the gate, awkwardly scanning your badge while balancing your breakfast, you took your first bite of the warm and flaky croissant. It seems like this marriage had more perks that you’d initially given it credit for.

Sitting down at your desk was a relief after navigating your curious and energetic team. You’d fielded questions about your marriage as much as you could, but you still ended up showing them a picture of Yoongi that Joohee had sent you from the wedding. Your team had commented on how handsome he looked and how happy they were for you, and from there, the energy calmed down some, with some members returning to their seats. 

The excitement had left you feeling conflicted, staring down at the picture of Yoongi that Joohee had sent. He looked handsome, definitely, his eyes were dark and piercing and his slightly tanned skin looked soft and smooth. You hadn’t realized how pinched together his eyebrows had been during the ceremony, or how bitten his lips looked. You swiped to the next picture in your messages with Joohee, seeing yourself and Yoongi during the reception. You both looked tired and miserable, making you frown at your phone. You kind of wished that you had a nice picture of you and Yoongi to show other people. Something to show when people like Junmi asked, one that made you look like a happy couple. You knew that Yeonsik had a stupidly cute picture of himself and his boyfriend as his phone’s lockscreen, and it made your stomach clench with envy. 

Maybe you should bring it up to Yoongi?

No, it was much too soon, you shook your head, dismissing the thought. 

Turning off your phone, you logged into your computer, seeing the number of unread emails rapidly increasing. You sighed, slipping on your headphones and starting some jazz so you could focus. 

Combing through the mountain of emails was tiring, but one caught your attention, even as your eyes glazed over. 

From: limheesungmarketing1@okgaming.com

RE: Influencer Campaign MIRA’S AWAKENING

Hello Team Leader Seo,

We have decided to pursue Jeon Jeongguk (user/sns:goldenboy97) as one of the main influencers for MIRA’S AWAKENING’s campaign. We have been communicating with him about ideas for the campaign and decided upon the following:

Early access - stream upon release day

PR merchandise - we are confirming designs with Graphics 2

Vlog/tour of OK Gaming on August 25 - this will include a tour of Planning Team 1 office space. Please see attached for video appearance consent form for your team and have it submitted to me by the end of the week.

We will follow up with more information as we approach the filming date.

Thanks,

Team Leader Lim

You had to read the email twice before you fully understood the contents. Shaking your head with a smile, you forwarded the email to your team and grabbed your phone to text Jeongguk. 

To: Jeon Jeongguk

Are you invading my office for your vlog channel?

The reply came almost instantly.

From: Jeon Jeongguk

morning, noona!

you finally got the news, huh?

i’m so excited, i can’t wait to see you working!

we should get lunch or dinner together that day!!

any preferences?

don’t tell hyung though

can i get your opinion on what i should wear, i don’t really go to offices often lol

You set your phone down as the buzzing continued, trying to contain your laughter. The kid was so exciteable, but his energy was contagious. You decided to respond to him later as you heard the quiet ding of more emails coming in. A sigh escaped you, you had promised Yoongi to find time to do something with him, but taking off two weeks so close to the launch date of your project and at the tail end of beta testing had taken its toll. It was clear that you’d be working overtime for the next few weeks.

Leaning your elbows against the desk and taking your head into your hands, you rubbed circles into the sides of your head. Thinking about everything you had to do was leading to a migraine and a quick look at the clock revealed that only about an hour had passed since you’d gotten to work. You felt your body sag in defeat, hearing the pings of more emails coming in. 

Pressing your head against the cool feeling of your desk, you tried to distract your mind from the overwhelming mountain of work you had waiting for you. Naturally, your mind drifted toward the past weekend with Yoongi. You could still feel the exhaustion of the emotional rollercoaster weighing on your bones, but the uncertainty of what the future would look like with him felt like prinpicks against your fingers. This weekend had changed a lot for you, changes that you weren’t sure how to deal with. 

Yoongi’s new attitude was also confusing, even though you fully knew his intentions now. The shift from trying to dismiss any ambiguous actions from him and steel yourself against any romantic feelings of your own to full transparency of his feelings toward you and your obligation to externally reciprocate was difficult to adjust to. You had been playing it by ear so far, going for a risky flirt whenever you felt cheeky, but it still felt unnatural.

It was hard to put it into words, but it felt like you were uncomfortable around Yoongi. Maybe you were still upset with him for what transpired with Jimin, after all, it was not too long ago, only a couple days really. Or maybe it was for what he said at the gala, the way he had dismissed you still irked, making you bite the inside of your cheek. Or perhaps when he’d been an hour late to your meeting before you’d gotten married, showing up with mussed hair, hickeys, and the heavy scent of a woman’s perfume. 

You blew a short and aggressive breath out of your mouth, Yoongi had really been an ass. More than feeling upset with him, though, you felt more upset with yourself for caving so quickly. You supposed it wasn’t necessarily caving since you weren’t starting out as friends through your own insistence, but you couldn’t lie to yourself. Your feelings for Yoongi were annoyingly persistent and only getting stronger with his newfound feelings and confidence in them. 

Why couldn’t you be stronger?

It felt a bit pathetic. You’d thought that you were doing so well in closing yourself off from him, shielding your heart from, not only from his attractive looks and seductive gaze, but from his biting remarks and harsh glares. As it turns out, not only did you still end up feeling hurt, but you only deeper for him despite your best efforts. Were you really even preventing anything that whole time? You bit your lip, squinting to make out emails through your blurry vision. 

Were you in the palm of his hands since the beginning?

Did you ever stand a chance?

Was this relationship more unbalanced than you previously thought?

Your eyes closed in defeat, feeling your headache envelop the rest of your brain. You wished that you could level the playing field somehow.

The harsh blue undertoned light from your computer was aggravating your headache even more. To give your eyes a break, you took a look around your office space, seeing your teammates in similar condition to you. 

The past couple weeks had been grueling, finalizing the post beta testing debugs, a last minute story adjustment, a heavy debate on the use of a mechanic your team was pushing to keep after some confusion in beta testing, and wrangling the graphics team to confirm and pack the shipment of merchandise had taken a heavy toll on your team’s morale and energy. This was always the worse part of development and production.

You’d barely seen your home since your return to work, spending over twelve hours at the office, catching the last bus home, scarfing down a mediocre, store bought kimbap, and crashing on your bed or the couch, whichever one you made it to in time. 

You weren’t going to lie, you were a bit frustrated that you’d barely been able to spend any time with Yoongi in the past two weeks, but a part of you was relieved. Your emotional state still hadn’t fully recovered and you were relishing the opportunity to delay the inevitable as long as you could. Even so, waking up on the couch with a soft blanket thrown on you and your hair brushed away from your face made your heart ache. To his credit, he seemed to be an expert in tugging on your heart. 

He was understanding, at the least. Even though you barely saw him, any time you did, he wore an empathetic expression and quietly handed you a can of your favorite fruit juice from the fridge with a small smile. Yoongi hadn’t had any complaints of your constant late nights and occupied weekends, which, in your defense, had been unavoidable and continual.

Today was no different, despite it being a Friday, your team was still working late into the night. A yawn off to your right, courtesy of Song Ha, drew you out of your drowsy trance. You blinked a few times, feeling the world coming back into focus, and glanced at the time. It was approaching nine and you could feel that nothing else productive was going to happen today. Wiping your sweaty palms on your leggings, you stood, “Okay, everyone. Let’s go home for today, we’ve done all we can. I want you all to enjoy your weekend this time, so don’t check any emails. If it’s really important, I’ll call you. Go get some rest and be ready to kick ass on Monday.”

Your team stared up at you gratefully, seemingly rejuvenated. The packing up was quick and efficient, everyone more than ready to get out of the stuffy and dreary office. As you were packing up your own belongings, your phone buzzed with a message.

From: Kim Namjoon

Hi! I hope you’re doing well. I know your game is coming out soon so you must be busy, hopefully you’re getting enough rest!

Just a question about next Friday, would you like to head over to the gallery together? I can pick you up. Let me know when you can!

Oh, that’s right, the gallery that you were supposed to go to with Namjoon was coming up in a week. You had forgotten in the chaos of work, but you resigned to text him back later. Getting home was your top priority. Though, now that you were thinking about you, you had a nagging feeling that you’d forgotten something else.

You bent down in front of your desk to log out of your computer, catching a flagged email a bit further down in your inbox, referencing the filming day that was involving your team. Your fingers snapped automatically, that’s what it was! You’d totally forgotten about Jeongguk coming to film the behind the scenes and doing a segment with your team. Rapping your desk to catch your team’s attention, you quickly reminded them.

“Just a reminder, this upcoming Tuesday, we have the filming team coming in here with Jeon Jeongguk. I think all of you signed the consent form, so you can all come to work as normal, but just be prepared that they’ll be there. You’ll have a couple cameras around and they may pull you aside for some questions, but that should be about it. Have a good weekend, guys.”

A chorus of goodbyes and well wishes rang out from your team, followed by idle chatter as they made their way to the elevator. You sat back for a minute, deciding whether you should text Yoongi to say you were coming home early or not. Was this early? It was almost nine, but it was relatively early to when you had been coming home.

Whatever, you’d just go home. No point in texting when you’d be there in about twenty minutes anyway, what would texting change?

You hauled yourself to the bus stop, feeling the heaviness of the day weigh down your bones. You’d given your team the weekend off, but the same couldn’t be said for you. You knew plenty of managers in the corporate world who could leisurely take time off work and the productiveness of their team wouldn’t change, but your team was, unfortunately, not the same. Your weekend would consist of monitoring your email for anything urgent coming in and making sure other teams were on track for the upcoming release, but at least you’d get a bit of a break. It was a bit like being on call, but you didn’t want to think about it that way, it’d make the unpaid overtime a bit too real. 

The sound of the bus approaching made you jolt to attention, stopping for a moment to close your eyes and stop your head from spinning. You had forgotten to pick up dinner, but you’d make do. There must be something in the fridge, and if there wasn’t, you’d make for some emergency fried chicken delivery. 

The bus ride home was peaceful, to your extreme delight. Late Friday night bus rides ran the risks of drunk and rowdy businessmen, energetic and loud college students, and excitable high schoolers. Thankfully, the bus was quiet and serene, soon stopping near your apartment. The trek up to the building felt more taxing than usual, dragging your feet along the pavement until you reached the elevator. The cool feeling of the elevator walls against your forehead felt refreshing, at least, but you internally groaned when the doors slid open and you had to move your feet once again. 

The click of the door to the apartment unlocking felt like an angel’s voice, and you entered the apartment only to be met with five faces staring back at you. Your eyes immediately found Yoongi’s, staring at you, a bit surprised, but he sent you a smile. You returned it weakly before trailing your eyes over everyone else, finding Namjoon and Seokjin on the couch and Jeongguk and Taehyung seated on the floor around the coffee table, seemingly playing some low stakes poker. 

How could you forget that Yoongi has his friends over on Friday nights? The gaps in your memory were starting to grow concerning. 

You gave a half wave before awkwardly closing the door behind you. What did you even look like right now? Your team had given up on any sort of professional appearance once the overtime had started and your team routinely showed up in sweatshirts, sweatpants, leggings, or pajamas at this point. If someone was wearing the same clothes as the previous day, everyone else turned a blind eye. You were sure that your hair was a ratty mess atop your head and your overly loose sweatshirt was drowning you in fabric, likely making you look like a kid playing dress up. Your concerns over your appearance dissipated when you felt a body slam against yours in a hug, arms enveloping your waist. 

“Noona! Did you get back from the office just now? You’re working too late,” Jeongguk exclaimed, squeezing you before releasing his hold.

You laughed slightly, “Yeah, things are busy since the game’s coming out in about a month, and since you get early access, we have to work even harder.”

Your joke made Jeongguk frown slightly, “Maybe I’ll catch some labor law violations in the vlog and you can win big in a lawsuit.”

You chuckled, patting his shoulder, “I’ll file after I get my new year bonus.”

You began taking off your shoes, having to face the rest of the group, who all gave you warm smiles, Taehyung and Namjoon both sending you a friendly wave. Seokjin sent a stern glare in your direction, facing his vitriol on the oversized young man behind you, “Yah, Jeongguk, leave her alone, she only just got back. What vlog are you talking about anyway?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Jeongguk beat you to it, slinging his arms around you, a bit like a sloth hanging onto a tree, you noted.

“I get to hang out with noona all day on Tuesday since I’m filming a behind the scenes vlog for my second channel,” he responded, letting you go when Taehyung beckoned him over with the promise of a dangling chicken drumstick. 

Right, food. The chicken on the coffee table looked far too appetizing, but it felt rude of you to intrude so you tried to casually look away from it. 

“I didn’t know about that,” came Yoongi’s voice for the first time since you’d stepped into the apartment. It drew your gaze immediately, seeing a small frown on his face and furrowed eyebrows. Was he upset that you hadn’t told him? You suppose Jeongguk was his friend first.

“Ah, yeah, I’ve been so busy with work, I haven’t really gotten the chance to talk to you too much,” you said, trying to convey your guilt.

Yoongi shook his head, “Not your fault, you’d think that this brat,” he flicked Jeongguk’s forehead, who protested through a mouth full of chicken, “Would tell me that he was spending the day with my wife at work.”

Your chest bloomed at his choice of words, you’d rarely heard him refer to you as his wife, only at the reception of your wedding when talking to guests. Somehow, him using it now in such an intimate setting made your marriage feel all the more real. 

“Speaking of,” Seokjin interjected, “Isn’t your one month anniversary coming up? Are you guys doing anything fun?”

You and Yoongi both looked at each other, a bit at a loss for words. You hadn’t even thought about that, had it really already been almost a month? Somehow, it felt simultaneously shorter and much, much longer than that. You felt like you’d already spent a lifetime with Yoongi, but it’d barely been four weeks.

“I believe that’s on the same day as the gallery,” Namjoon said casually, snatching a small piece of chicken from Jeongguk’s clutches.

“Gallery,” Yoongi questioned.

“Oh, Namjoon and I are going to a gallery for an artist he introduced me to, we’d talked about when we met at that gallery a few weeks back,” you explained, trying to focus on the conversation and not how good the chicken looked. 

Yoongi seemed to be pondering his response when Namjoon caught your gaze on the food.

“Have you eaten yet, Y/N,” he questioned. 

You shook your head softly, a bit embarrassed that you were found out so quickly. 

“Join us,” Seokjin said, snatching the rest of the box from Jeongguk who pouted sadly, “You can have the rest of what’s in here and we can order more too.”

“No, you guys should eat that, it’s yours,” you insisted, feeling slightly childish with Seokjin’s suggestion.

“Jeonggukie ate most of it anyway, so we were going to need more,” Seokjin said, waving away your concerns, “We really need to start ordering multiple portions for him so he doesn’t eat all of it.”

You laughed and started toward the couch to join them, but took a quick glance at Yoongi’s expression to see if he was okay with it. The scene felt oddly familiar to you, reminding you of the last time you were invited to sit with them and you felt compelled to refuse.

Yoongi’s face looked unreadable, just like then too, but he seemed to be more deep in thought this time. He caught your gaze and smiled, though, nodding for you to join them. You gave a sheepish smile in response, making your way to the couch and sitting next to Namjoon, who had moved closer to the middle to make room for you. 

“Thanks, it’s been a long day,” you said, leaning into the soft cushions of the couch. You were going to have to be careful not to fall asleep, you were so used to collapsing onto this same couch after work. 

The food quickly arrived and the men continued to engage in conversation, making sure to include you, but you felt yourself getting drowsy. It seemed you had reached your limit when you felt your head bump into Namjoon’s shoulder in a sleep induced sway. You lifted yourself upright, blinking sleepily up at him, making out his soft smile, “Sorry, Namjoon-ah. I’m a bit tired.” You could hear yourself slurring your words. 

“No worries, Y/N, maybe we should get you to bed,” he responded, steading you again with a firm hand on your shoulder. 

If you had felt like a child earlier, you most certainly felt more like one now.

You felt Namjoon’s hands grasp your shoulders, gently lifting you to a standing position before a new pair of hands took over. 

“I’ll take her upstairs, Joon, can you make sure Seokjin doesn’t spill anything while I’m gone,” you heard Yoongi’s voice ask. Your eyes were barely open and your mind felt quite cloudy in your drowsy haze. Looking up at Yoongi, you caught his pensive expression before he looked down at you, sending you a small smile. He gently squeezed your shoulders and slowly led you up the stairs and to your room, you could distantly hear Jeongguk calling out a goodnight. 

You were barely conscious for the walk to your bedroom, feeling yourself lean against Yoongi for support. He patiently guided you, opening the door to your room and laying you down on your bed. Why did this feel familiar too?

Yoongi’s fingers brushed a few stray pieces of hair out of your face, you could feel the rough pads of his fingertips against your forehead. Almost asleep now, you barely registered yourself leaning into his touch as he brought his fingers around your face to cup your cheek. 

“Will you be okay sleeping in those clothes? Any makeup you have to wipe off,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. 

“No,” you mumbled, “I’m fine. Wanna sleep now. Goodnight, Yoongi-ah.”

You felt his thumb freeze its motions before he whispered back, “Goodnight, Y/N-ie. Sleep well.”

You were already asleep by the time he closed your bedroom door.

Yoongi felt conflicted over his newly realized feelings for you. In a way, it was freeing, being able to act affectionately with you without any ambiguity or restriction. Well, there were still some restrictions and maybe some ambiguity too. You were starting as friends, and Yoongi did think that was a good idea, he really did, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t dying to go further with you. 

His hands constantly itched to take yours and his eyes were always drawn to your soft and gentle smile. You had been smiling a bit more since that fateful weekend, and Yoongi was enjoying every second of it. 

Though, there weren’t really that many seconds of it to enjoy, considering your hectic schedule since your date. You’d been cooped up at your office pretty much every evening, a feeling Yoongi was familiar with, so he couldn’t fault you. Every time he managed to catch a rare glimpse of you in the house, you were either sleeping on the couch, or tiredly eating at the table. Despite your haggard appearance and exhausted demeanor, you’d always managed to smile a greeting at him and apologize for being so busy. 

Yoongi couldn’t find it in himself to be upset at your absence. Even though he was aching to be close to you and spend more with you, he knew your work was important and busy right now. Yoongi had to be patient, something he was not excited for. Your skin always looked too inviting, your lips too soft, and your eyes too alluring. He constantly had to reign in his wandering thoughts about you, even having to do a bit of overtime himself to make up for his distracted nature the past few weeks. 

Despite his growing attraction to you, whenever he laid eyes on your messy appearance with considerable eyebags adorning your sweet face, your lips forming a tired pout, in the multiple times he’d caught you sleeping on the couch when he went downstairs to check if you’d returned, his thoughts dissipated. You were clearly working yourself to the bone and Yoongi knew he couldn’t stop you, he’d been in your position multiple times. Sometimes, there was no other way around it. So he did what he could, a blanket covering your sleeping form, a small snack or candy slipped into your bag, or an extra serving of dinner waiting for you in the microwave, this was how Yoongi knew to show his love. 

Love? Was it? 

No, he didn’t think so. At least not yet. It was too early on to tell if he loved you, but he could feel himself starting down that path. He only wished that he could be in an actual relationship with you, though he knew why he couldn’t. His friends knew about the arrangement, he’d confided in Seokjin and Namjoon, but he hadn’t revealed his growing feelings for you, only that you’d decided to become friends. 

Maybe that had been a mistake, considering how close they seemed to be getting to you. Yoongi recalled how his friends had jumped at your presence when you’d entered the apartment. As he climbed into bed, he remembered how Jeongguk had stood excitedly at your arrival and immediately crushed you in an intimate hug. Had Yoongi hugged you before? He couldn’t remember, but it was all he could think about now. Jeongguk had mentioned that he’d be spending the day with you at work on Tuesday, Yoongi had never seen you in your office either. Suddenly, that single walk to work together all those days ago felt minimal compared to what Jeongguk was going to get to experience. 

You seemed to have grown close with Namjoon as well, Yoongi thought, remembering the way that Namjoon had smiled invitingly at you and the way you’d sat next him, bumping your head against his shoulder in your attempt to sleep. What was that? Yoongi felt restless, maybe he should’ve clarified his feelings to his friends so they’d know you were off limits.

Except, you weren’t. Yoongi knew that. He had no claim over you, he wasn’t your boyfriend, only your designated husband. Yoongi’s mind wandered back to the interactions between you and Namjoon, racing to analyze every interaction, despite his acceptance that it wasn’t his place. 

You seemed so comfortable with Namjoon, you’d even called his name so affectionately. Well, you’d said Yoongi’s name affectionately too, he gloated internally. That had been a sweet moment that he was going to treasure, you had been so placid and vulnerable, a side to you he hadn’t seen before. It had been hard to contain himself since he’d brought you to your room, feeling you lean against him and into his hand, he’d wanted to kiss you. 

But he knew better, he had to wait. Yoongi tried not to think about what would happen if you decided you only wanted to be friends with him and nothing more. He had already fallen so deeply for you. It was unexpected for him to fall so quickly and so hard, surprising even himself. You’d managed to wedge your way into his heart, making him uncomfortable, only to set up shop there and grow his fondness toward you. 

Yoongi’s mind drifted back to the earlier conversation, when Seokjin had mentioned your one month anniversary. Should he be planning something? He wasn’t sure. To be honest, he didn’t really want to celebrate your wedding day, it felt like it was yours. It was more for other people than anything. Not to mention, he didn’t want to call attention back to when he’d been acting so crassly. Yoongi cringed at the memory. 

Besides, Namjoon had mentioned that you two were going to a gallery that day. Yoongi was only slightly jealous, or that was what he was telling himself. Why did you have to have so much in common with his friends and be so personable? His envy grew at the fact that Namjoon would be spending so much time with you on your wedding anniversary, despite Yoongi’s earlier dismissal of it. How was it fair that the man you were spending your anniversary with wasn’t your husband, but his friend?

Maybe he should plan something for that day for when you come back from the gallery. The idea made him smile. He wanted to make it a special day for you, and with newfound determination to show up Namjoon, he would. 

previous / masterlist / next

[itsmemuffy]

Booksmart

Prompt:"do you like that?" "i like anything you do." + person a wants to be even closer to person b, so they take their hands under person b's shirt and grabs their chest. (x)

Contents: Logan Howlett (any version) x gender neutral reader, established relationship, 110% fluff

Author's note: I have a few stories in the works that are becoming way longer than expected, so I wanted to challenge myself to write something quick and simple ♡

Your footsteps echoed through the room, shoes clacking against glossy hardwood panels. Logan sat at the far end of the couch where you were coming up behind him, not acknowledging your presence. He lounged with his feet up on the coffee table in a way Charles would never fail to scold him for.

Of course, the man knew you were there. Logan had the beat of your walk memorized– steady strides with an eagerness in your step. He could practically see the sway of your hips from just listening to the sound. Still, the train of thought he was riding needed to get to it's destination before anything else. He wouldn't allow his focus to be broken just yet.

Firmly in his grasp was an old, weathered paperback. You doubt he found it in that condition. Perhaps it was something that has been in his possession for a long time. As you made your way around the couch, you watched Logan's eyes zig-zag as they moved down the walls of text.

He reads at a measured pace, taking in each word and their relation to another. Just as Logan turned to the next page, he feels you slump down into the cushion next to him. Still focused on his book, he gently placed his free hand on your knee to placate you for the time being.

You leaned into his side with a sigh of relief. Today had been a long one for the both of you. Now that you were beside him, all that tension finally had a chance to melt away. Logan felt the same as he traced lazy circles on your thigh. He wishes he was able to make time for more moments like these.

"I am starting to think I'm less interesting than a dead guy from the 18th century," you whine in faux offense, wrapping yourself around Logan's heavy arm.

He lets out an affectionate hum, sparing you a glance from the corner of his eye. "19th century, darlin'. Not too long ago, mind you." Logan shakes his arm out of your grasp to blanket it around your shoulders, pulling you in closer. "Ya got Thoreau off by 'bout a hundred years," he lowly rumbles into your ear, making you giggle.

Not too long ago? you thought. Maybe in the grand scheme of things, yes. But Logan's perpective throws you for a bit of a loop sometimes. Oh, how you wish you had the ability to peek into his mind. You've gotten closer to Logan than most people in his drawn-out life ever have, yet all you get is pieces of his story. Nothing even close to the full picture.

Even in his strong embrace, you longed to be closer. You wait until his attention is drawn back into the world of his novel. Then, you sneak your hands under the layers of clothing; his jacket, his flannel, his shirt, and finally his tank.

You run your palms from his stomach up to his chest, fingers combing through the thick fields of hair. Logan shifts and flexes under your touch. He pretends his focus hadn't been broken until the gentle scrape of your nails across his pecs illicits a deep grumble from his throat.

"Do you like that?" you tease, finally achieving the desired amount of closeness (or something near enough to it).

Logan turns his neck to look at you head-on. "I like anything you do," he replies. He stamps your lips with delicate kiss, letting your deliberate strokes to his torso hypnotize him until the end of the chapter.

[winchesterwild78]

The Art of Not Saying "I Love You" pt 3

Master List

Characters: Soldier Boy, Ben x Reader, other characters from The Boys

Warnings: Angst, drug use, heartbreak

A/N: Sorry It’s taken so long to get this chapter out. I hit a wall but then it came to me. I hope you like how this one unfolds. It’s angsty. 

I do not own the rights to the characters in this story. This does not follow The Boys timeline, and is a work of fiction.

All work is my own, please don’t take it or use it without permission. Reblogs and Likes are always welcome.

Written and edited fast, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

The next few days I spent most of the time wrapped up in Ben’s arms. Things were different between us. He always made sure I was completely satisfied before we moved on to him. A stark contrast to other men I’d been with. I never took Ben to be so giving, especially in the bedroom. 

He still drank and smoked weed, but his coke habit had all but stopped. He told me he didn’t need it anymore. I like to think it was because of me. 

When we finally emerged I had to return to work. Ben was already up when I crawled out of bed and showered. 

I walked into the kitchen to find him sitting at the table rolling a joint. 

“That’s a hell of a breakfast, Ben. Don’t you think you should eat something?” 

He looked up at me and scoffed. 

“Doll, you worry about your breakfast not mine.” I furrowed my brow at him. His whole demeanor seemed to have shifted back to the ass he was before we spent the past three days tangled up with each other. 

I filled my coffee cup and stepped closer to him. I touched his arm, “Ben, is everything okay?” His eyes flicked to mine and the coldness sent a shiver down my spine. 

I swallowed hard. “Just peachy, doll.” “Doll? Really? Ben, come on.” 

He didn’t respond. He just took a long drag from the joint he placed between his lips. 

I grabbed my things and looked at him, “Will I see you later?” His eyes flicked to mine and he smirked, “Maybe. I think I might have company tonight.” 

I gasped and a lump formed in my throat. “Ben, really? Have the past few days meant nothing to you?” 

He stood, stretched and walked over to me taking my chin in his hand, “Of course it meant something. I finally got to give you a proper fucking.” 

Tears pricked my eyes as I pulled away. My heart clenched in my chest. What the hell happened? Why is he acting like this? Did he really just use me? 

“Aw doll, don’t leave.” He chuckled. I turned and looked at him as the sting of the tears became too much. “Ben, you can be such an asshole.” 

I turned around and walked out the door as the tears started to fall. 

The day at work sucked. The copier broke, I spilled coffee on myself, the big boss was in the building and of course my supervisor had screwed up a deadline so ultimately it was my fault. 

By the time 5pm rolled around I was exhausted, mentally and physically. I grabbed my stuff and headed towards the apartment. 

When I got in the door I heard giggling coming from down the hall. I looked at Butcher and he shot me an “I’m sorry” look. 

I sat my stuff down and shrugged off my coat. “Who’s he with now?” I asked Butcher in an icy tone. 

“Don’t know. They were in there when I got home almost 2 hours ago.” 

A lump formed in my throat and my stomach knotted. The sting of tears pricked my eyes. 

Oh fuck this hurt so bad. I was foolish to think Ben wanted me. He lied to me just to get me to sleep with him. 

“Oi, love. You okay?” I shook my head no. 

I walked past Ben’s room and heard them. His grunts and her moans. I felt sick. 

The tears began to cloud my eyes and the pain in my chest only grew. I closed and locked my door. Grabbing my bag I threw things in it. I couldn’t take this. Listening to him fucking another woman after we had just spent days wrapped in each others arms, whispering confessions and talking about the future. 

What the hell happened? I knew I shouldn’t have fallen into bed with him. Soldier Boy doesn’t do long term relationships and I was a fool to think he could fall in love with me. 

I was a fool to have fallen in love with him. I wrote Butcher a note telling him thank you for everything and I loved him. I also wrote Ben a note.

I waited to leave until I heard Ben and the woman stop, and I heard Butcher leave.

Before I left I placed the letters on the counter along with my key. My heart was shattered and it had nothing to do with Tom and everything to do with Ben. 

I heard him talking and when I heard him say he’d be back I walked towards the door. 

He walked out as I turned to close the door. Our eyes briefly met before I left. 

*Ben’s POV*

After spending days wrapped in Y/N’s arms I felt something I hadn’t in a really long time. I was falling in love with her and it scared the hell out of me. The last woman I gave my heart to betrayed me and left me to be tortured. 

I can’t risk being hurt again. I need to get out before it goes too far. 

I met the blonde at the bar. She was day drinking. Her boyfriend had just broken up with her so she was vulnerable and not looking for commitment. She was perfect for me. I invited her back to the apartment. I had a few hours before Y/N came home.

We went back to my place and I started kissing her. Flashes of Y/N’s face played in my mind. I did my best to block out the memory of her, but every touch, every moan I saw her.

Fuck! Get out of your head, Ben. Give this woman a proper fucking! 

I heard her come in, she sounded so tired. The soft click of her door broke me from my thoughts. I could hear her sniffling and I knew it was because of me. 

About an hour later I heard her open her door and walk down the hallway. I threw some pants on and opened the door, walking down the hallway.

As I got into the living room I saw her leaving. 

Our eyes met and hers were full of so much pain. It broke me. This was my fault.

I looked on the counter and noticed her key and two letters. One to Butcher and the other addressed to me. I took my letter.

Ben,

The past few days have been the most amazing of my life. I honestly thought I was breaking through some of those walls you carefully constructed around your heart. I guess I was wrong. I’ll cherish all the time we spent together. The touches, how your lips felt on mine and on my body. How just being in your arms I felt so safe and the things we whispered to each other. I’ll never forget how you stood up for me and I’ll always be grateful to you for that. I hope you find what you’re looking for, Ben, and I hope you finally find the love you deserve. Believe me you are worthy of love and you will make an amazing husband and father one day. 

I love you, Ben. I know now I didn’t know what love was until I met you. 

Love,

Y/N

Ben sighed. He knew you were gone. He pushed you away after pulling you to him. 

Ben ran his fingers through his hair and let out a deep breath. He had no idea what to do, so he called Butcher.

“Oi! What do you want?” “Butcher I fucked up. She’s gone and this time for good. She left us both a letter and her key. Come home, we need to find her.” 

Butcher gripped his phone tightly, “What do you mean she’s gone? What the hell did you do?”

“I fell in love with her Butcher. I fell in love and got scared. I’m a fucking coward.” 

“You fucking cunt! I told you not to hurt her.” 

Butcher growled into the phone, hanging up and tried to call me. 

I saw his name pop up on the screen and ignored it. 

Sitting in the Uber getting as far away as I could. My heart felt like it had been ripped out, pieced together, then ripped out and put through a shredder. 

You’re a fucking fool falling in love with him. You let your heart think for you and this is what you get. Two guys using you up and leaving you out to dry. Tom was right, I am damaged and unloveable. 

Tears slipped down my face and I quickly wiped them away. The driver was sweet. She didn’t say anything, but she handed me some tissues. 

“Thank you” I said softly. “You’re welcome, sweetie. I hope everything works out for you.” 

I nodded softly. Then my phone rang again, this time it was Ben. I sent him to voicemail. 

My phone kept ringing and messages kept going off. Voicemail and messages kept pouring in from Ben and Butcher. 

I couldn’t talk to either of them. I didn’t want to hear Butcher say “I told you to stay away from him” and I didn’t want to hear Ben make up some excuse that would send me running back to his arms. 

Butcher arrived back at the apartment and grabbed the letter I left. His jaw clenched as he read it. Ben stood silently to the side watching him. His eyes flicked up to Ben. 

“You fucking cunt! How dare you make her fall in love with you and then break her fucking heart. She deserves so much better than you.” 

Ben’s jaw clenched tightly. So tight his teeth hurt. He knew Butcher was right. Now because of his cowardice, I was gone. 

It has been almost two months since I left the apartment. I still got phone calls and messages from Butcher and Ben, but not as many as I did. 

The last voicemail I got from Ben almost broke me. His voice desperately pleading with me to come home. I could hear the crack in his voice. He ended the call telling me how he knows he fucked up, but he wanted me to give him another chance. 

Oh how I desperately wanted to be back in his arms, but I couldn’t. 

I’d kept in touch with Annie but made her keep my location a secret. She was coming over today to visit and have a girls day. 

I was excited to see her. It had been a few weeks. She said she had some news for me and wanted to tell me in person. 

I greeted her at the door. “Hey Annie. How are you?” I pulled her in for a hug. “I’m good. How are you?” 

“I’m okay. Just a little under the weather, but I’m fine. So, what’s the news?” 

She smiled softly, “Well, Huey and I are getting married. He asked me a few days ago and I said yes.” 

“Oh Annie, I’m so happy for you both. Congratulations!” 

She hugged me and thanked me. A comfortable silence filled the room. 

I swallowed, “So how’s everyone else doing?” 

She knew who “everyone” else really was but she was sweet and updated me on everyone. “Butcher really misses you. He’s been trying to figure out where you went. He’s worried sick.” 

I nodded, “I’ll call him. Let him know I’m okay. And um, how’s Ben?” 

I nervously bit my lip. She took my hand, “he’s really not good. He’s angrier than before and he’s back to snorting anything he can crush. I’m not exactly sure what happened between you two, but he’s a mess. As far as I know he hasn’t had a woman over since you left.” 

I gasped, “what? Are you serious?” 

She shook her head yes. “Sweetie, what happened?” 

“I was a fucking fool, that’s what. I slept with him and let myself believe he could actually love me. I fell in love with him and after spending days wrapped up in each other he tossed me aside. Gave me the cold shoulder and slept with another woman. He broke my heart after saying I was his and I was worthy of love. Who the hell does that to someone?!” 

A loud sob left my mouth and she held me tightly. “It’s okay sweetie. You are worthy of love. I promise.” 

The shrill sound of my phone ringing cut the silence that filled the room. We both jumped, startled by the sound. 

I looked at the screen and saw it was my doctor’s office. 

“Hello? Yes this is she. Yes. I understand. Yes, thank you I will.” 

I hung up and gasped. I looked at Annie and couldn’t speak. 

“Honey, are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.” 

My mouth hung open. Shock filled my body and my mind was racing. Trying to process what the doctor said. 

My heart was pounding in my chest, feeling heavier and heavier as the words crashed around me. 

I felt dizzy and numb. She swore the tests were just routine for my physical. “Nothing to worry about. You’re young and healthy. Everything is going to be okay.” 

She fucking lied! 

“Y/N, honey, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” 

I blinked. The sting of tears filled my eyes as the weight of her words filled my very soul. I couldn’t believe this. I had always lived my life carefully. Now what was I going to do? 

Annie grabbed my arms and forced me to look at her, “Y/N! What the hell is going on?!” Her voice was loud and startled me back to reality. 

“I went in for my yearly physical and she ran some standard tests. She was calling me with the results. Annie, she said I’m pregnant.” 

Annie’s eyes went wide, “What?!”

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[ominous-faechild]

FAERIE'S DAWN

CHAPTER 2: KILREY (PART 1)

CHARACTERS: ✦ Nova “Me” Fae (pov) ✦ Scamall “Cloud” Fae ✦ Spéir “Sky” Fae

story intro table of contents chapter one < last chapter next chapter >

Nova: [tense, but continues chewing the taffy-like ambrosia as she focuses her essence to watch Sky and Cloud even with her back to them]

Siblings: [looking at each other, faces twisted and fae-ears lowered stressfully—]

Cloud: [guilty, but…]

Sky: [furious]

Sky: (hisses under his breath) "Cloud! This is exactly why I—"

Cloud: [letting out a slow breath, shakes her head and gently pushes him to the side with just a wave of—her essence and—air. Moves to stop beside Nova and try to meet their eyes]

Nova: [hesitantly obliges her, chomping off a piece of their third ambrosia square]

Cloud: (voice gentle, but serious) "you have a plan? Do you need more ambrosia?"

Nova:

Sky:

Nova: [shocked she'd offer to help when doing so got her into this mess to begin with, but…]

Nova: [ears low, forces themself to just look away, nod curtly, and swallow their bite. Then, with their face turned away, immediately rips off another chunk of ambrosia]

Cloud: [as Nova works on chewing, smoothly sits down next to them and reaches with her essence to copy Nova's earlier theft—]

Sky: [grabs her shoulder, hissing) "Cloud, what are you doing!? You're going to—"

Cloud: [turning a sharp glare onto him in return, evenly) "they escaped from another archfaerie. They know what they're doing. We should help them."

Sky: [stunned silent—]

Nova: [also stunned and struggling not to be hopeful… but just starts on her fourth and last piece of ambrosia]

Ambrosia: [as a treat made of pure magic—and most often mixed in with sweets for additional taste—contained lots of energy for needy fae]

Ambrosia: [is most often used as compact, easy-to-serve rations from archfae to their thralls, meant to give them the essence they need to survive… while any and all other food mostly just tasted good and didn't do much for them. Not unless it matched their domain.]

Faeries: [each had control over a certain 'domain', depending on what they emerged from]

Cloud: [was clearly air-aligned, but, true to her name, seemed to have a domain specifically centered on clouds]

Barkeeper: [would seem earth-aligned at first glance, thanks to their earthen skin and the trail of dirt they left behind as they moved. But… their exact domain was harder to tell, considering the plants they'd had for hair. It could've meant they were life-aligned, or nature-aligned—]

Nova: [except, didn't just have to judge off of faeries' appearances]

Nova: [had a special talent in being able to 'feel out' for others' alignments, just by sensing their essence… or magical power]

Nova: [and, similarly, was much more adept at sensing and distinguishing between essence in general…]

Nova: [which was exactly why she could tell that the barkeeper, the earthen faerie, finally reached Kilrey.]

Nova: [quickly hops out of her chair, wiping the back of her hand against her mouth and looking at the siblings]

Sky: [has his jaw clenched and arms crossed tight as he's turned away from them, glaring at the other inhabitants of the tavern… to help discourage them from staring, and catching Cloud's theft]

Cloud: [of course, still stealing ambrosia squares, slipping them between the loose folds of her airy clothes as soon as she's grabbed them]

Both: [as Nova hopped out of the chair, stop what they're doing to look at Nova with tense expressions and lowered ears]

Nova: [meets Sky's eyes, then Cloud's, and quickly turns to march toward the door]

Nova: (voice commanding, sounding far more confident than she felt) "we head out now. I can collect more essence on the way. Hurry!"

Air Siblings: [meet eyes once again behind her back]

Cloud: [immediately follows close behind Nova!]

Sky: [half-groans, half-growls, but quickly trails after]

Sky: [… though his eyes dart from faerie to faerie as he wonders why nobody's reacting to their departure]

Nova: [almost as though she's reading his mind but more reading between the lines, and figuring it's better to say anyway) "I blocked them from seeing us. Come on!"

Sky: [bites his tongue, unsure of a lot of things… but also not sure if it was a good time to ask questions]

Nova: [pushes the door open and speedwalks outside, ignoring the frostbite-cold of the now-winter that hits her]

Seasons, time, and weather: [could change constantly, depending on where they were in the Faewildes and the strength of the raw, unclaimed magic in the area…]

Raw Faewilde magic: [was incredibly dangerous even to faeries, able to take over their minds, make them lose their sense of selves, and turn them into what the humans called demons]

Demons: [creatures with seemingly no sapience, wanting nothing more than violence… and Nova couldn't blame them]

Nova: [wishes she had the strength—the bravery—to fight back against archfae she wasn't cornered by]

Nova: [wishes she could pay them back for their crimes.]

Nova: [fae-ears low and eyes scanning the streets around them, paces forward to lead the group through the quickest way out of town]

Sky: [from behind, voice tense) "what's your plan, fae. Who are you?"

Nova: [tenses, but… keeps pacing, eyeing the ever-fluctuating buildings once of wood, then of stone, then of ice… as everything rapidly changes from the cloud of raw magic unfurling throughout the town]

Nova: (tension leaking into their voice) "we leave Kil—the Archfae's dominion, so he's weaker. From there, he either gives up, or—"

Sky: (voice sharp) "he'll catch up before we can!"

Nova: [twists her form, turning her torso so—while her legs continue forward on her decided path—she's able to face Sky while walking]

Siblings: [faces visibly twist in disgust at her grotesque display—]

Nova: (harshly) "we have a head start and this—" [points up, then twists his finger in a circular gesture, alluding to the magic storm] "—is going to keep him from teleporting to us."

Sky:

Sky: [visibly stunned… though also looks paler]

Sky: [actually, has changed a lot in appearance. His night-sky skin has quickly turned pale white, matching his hair and the snow around them]

Sky: [now, almost completely blends with the environment as he scans the area, the tips of his fae-ears dropping lower and lower]

Nova: (to himself) ah… that's why he feels a bit different from 'sky'.

Sky: [returning his eyes to Nova, hesitantly) "is… that you?"

Nova:

Nova: [fighting a wave of panic, barks out a laugh and turns his torso back into place to increase his pace. Still, his anxiety is betrayed by his angled ears, poorly-faked laugh, and the breathlessnes of his otherwise-incredulous voice) "no??? You think I'd be like this if I had that kinda power? I just sensed it coming, and we're taking advantage of it. Now hurry up, Kil—he, the Archfae, just left!"

Cloud: [from behind her; voice gentle, but subtly tense) "so… what happens when he catches up to us?"

Nova: [drops his eyes to the ground, falling silent as a cold hand of dread wraps itself tight around his heart]

Nova: (voice thick) "as long as we're outside of his dominion, I can take care of him by myself."

YOU CAN WHAT BY YOURSELF, NOVA!?!?!

Aaaaaanyhow, how truthful do you think all of this is? What's with all of their fear of archfaeries? And how in the world would Nova "take care of" one themself???

story intro table of contents chapter one < last chapter next chapter >

Faerie's Dawn taglist:

@honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd

@seastarblue @rae-butter @teamarine777 @caffeinated-starsailor @oliolioxenfreewrites

@corinneglass @thebookishkiwi @storyteller-kara @themongosianhorse @theburningeyeofdawn

@notyourlocalworm @write-with-will @mildlybizarrecorvid @forgottenvalor @huewrite

@vesanal @differentnighttale @plip-plap-plop @olliedoesthings @pupculture

@princessuncertain @mythicalmagical-monkeyman @i-do-anything-but-write @a-zendrial

@real-fragments @lunauphternal @sullymarlowe @aalinaaaaaa (ask and ye shall be added)

dividers by @thyming and @saradika

[divinehatred]

LET ME IN.

a drabble of what happens at the end of chapter 3 in this au.

As the final dregs of your fear leak away from your mind, your body, your soul… you don’t understand why, but you still feel horrible. 

It’s been building, bit by bit, as you traveled through a labyrinth composed of your own emotions with the Builder himself as your sole companion. A festering, mangled feeling, like your heart is tearing itself into pieces and then tying those pieces into countless, impossibly tight knots. 

A hand presses to your chest, your face contorting in pain. Why? Why does it hurt so much? Are you having a heart attack? Are you dying?

A firm hand rests on your shoulder, startling you. “I’m proud of you, Hero. You did it.”

Right. It’s over.

Isn’t it?

Then why do you feel so..?

“You got rid of all of those little obstacles in our way.” 

Obstacles..? Emotions aren’t…

His grip on your shoulder turns into more of a vise, digging his nails into your flesh.

It hurts. “You got rid of everything keeping you from being perfect.” He emphasizes the final word in his statement in a tone of voice not unlike a snarl, endless malice dripping from it. 

A deep, horrible, burning sensation creeps out from where his fingers dig into your shoulder. You can’t move. You can’t stop shaking. You can’t breathe. You can’t. You.

“All that’s left to be done now… is to let me in.” 

Your mouth is dry. Your eyes won’t focus. 

He glances at your face, circling around to be in front of you without letting go.

“...you can at least do that, can’t you, Hero?” His tone is sickeningly sweet, a mockery of the helpful, kind man he had been pretending to be before. “Don’t tell me you’re still too weak even with those pesky emotions of yours out of the way. We can’t have that, now, can we?”

You shakily extend the fingers out of one of your hands, tuck in your thumb, close your fingers over it, and extend them again. The gesture catches his eye, making him laugh.

“Help? You want help?”

He leans in close, hissing in your ear.

“There’s nothing left to help you in here.” He pulls away, giving a condescending grin. “Just us. Just me.”

His hand leaves your shoulder. The pain remains. He moves to stand across from you, hands folded behind his back. 

“But I can see you’re not convinced yet. So let’s change that. Shall we?” His head tilts ever so slightly to the side. 

“In your current state… in order to wield the Ghostwalker… you’ve been made clean. Clear. Open.”

His smile widens. Were his eyes always so red?

“Weak.”

Each syllable feels like a nail being driven through your skull.

“Corruptible.”

His figure warps like a mirage. He’s larger than he was seconds ago. Looming.

“Defenseless.”

He’s more like a silhouette than a man. Pale, pulsating with pure hatred.

“Exposed.”

You can see his heart over his chest. It’s beating in sync with yours.

“Susceptible.”

It breaks in two. A wicked, devilish tail curls out from behind him.

“Vulnerable.”

You’re burning up. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

“You’re finally,” he laughs, “all,” he looks down on you, “MINE.”

The sheer weight of his hatred is nauseating. It feels like your eyes are being held open, like you’re being forced to see what your god has become. One has to wonder… is this your fault? Should you have ever gone on this journey?

Did he ever really need to be saved?

Was this a mistake?

let me in

Is the King okay? You saw him melt. Did you kill him?

Let me in

And… and Brad. Will he recover from that? Will he die?

Let Me in

Do they hate you?

Let Me In

Do you hate them?

LEt Me In

Do you hate yourself?

LET Me In

Do you hate?

LET ME In

Do you HATE?

LET ME IN

You can’t…

LET ME IN

You…

LET ME IN

It’s… it’s so… hard to…

LET ME IN

…think…

L E T  M E  I N

okay.

[f4rtnite]

Bkdk online dating AU Preview!

Midoriya went home, took off his shoes, and greeted his mom. He went straight to his room and on the computer. Discord was already open and now Midoriya could finally relax, talk with his online friends, and forget about the struggles of his daily life.

While online he would mainly talk with his friends and moderate chats. He would always share fun facts about All Might and was constantly showing off his collection. A lot of people would turn to him when they needed to find specific merchandise. He was also an expert at spotting differences between bootlegs and official products.

He gets a notification, “@exsplosive_might111 has joined the server”

Midoriya immediately welcomed the new user and sends them the rules and verification process. Afterwards the new user posts an introduction. The introduction had quickly caught Midoriya’s attention since there weren't that many 13 year old boys like him in the server. This made him super excited and he started up a conversation with him as soon as possible.

@allmight_is_the_goat0715

Hey @ explosive_might111 you're the same age as me, that's so cool :D There’s not that many young ones here :(

@explosive_might111

Omg really? That’s so cool! can I send a friend request??? :3

Shortly after, they immediately start talking about everything All Might. Midoriya was impressed by how much this guy knew. They started talking about limited edition All Might merch. They both challenged each other to see who had the most/rarest merchandise. Midoriya had more by a long shot, but they noticed that they both had the same limited edition holographic all might card.

Allmight_is_the_goat0715

Wow where did you get that card??? :0 I've hardly met anyone who has it :DDD

Explosive_might111

Got it from a vending machine. Weren't they exclusive to only a few cities here???? I got mine in Musutafu :333

Allmight_is_the_goat0715

OMG ME TOO!1!1!1!1 we must live around the same area :DDD

They had stayed up talking all night. Despite it being a school night and the fact that Bakugou usually goes to bed early, they never stopped chatting. Midoriya, or his online nickname Mikumo, had told his new friend all about his life. He mentioned how he gets bullied but did not bring up that he is quirkless.

Bakugou, or nickname Aka (means red) had told “Mikumo” bits and pieces about his daily life. He felt bad for his new friend who was unfortunately getting bullied, but he felt guilty because Bakugou knows that he's a bully himself. They shared many things about themselves with each other. It was 3am before they had finally decided to go to bed.

Midoriya logged off of discord. He didn't expect to chat with the new user for so long, but he's glad that he did. Most of his online friends were much older than him so it was nice to be able to talk to someone his age and be able to relate to them.

Midoriya turned off his computer and put his phone to charge. He was really looking forward to the next day. Perhaps classes will be easier to sit through since now he has his new friend that he can talk to throughout the day. Midoriya just hopes that he's as active as him so they can talk all the time. He also got excited knowing that his new friend Aka could potentially live close to him. It's been so long since he last had a friend in person. His mom told him to never ever meet up with people he's met online, but Midoriya wouldn't mind meeting this guy sometime.

Did you enjoy reading this? Read the full completed fic here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/58319551/chapters/148525768

[suntrait]

Stella dedicated her entire uni year to this book. She has no intention of publishing it, but maybe getting feedback from someone close might be a good idea.

(before / next)

transcript:

Josh: Hey, princess, how are you? Devin: I’m good. Just killing time in my room. Are you still at your internship? Josh: Nah, I’m done. I’m on my way to the library to study. Finals are next week. Devin: Such a nerd, I love that about you. Josh: I don’t have the luxury of just turning in papers like you. ;) Josh: Gotta go. I love you. Devin: Love you too.

Devin: (satisfied sigh) Dating is so good, why was I even avoiding this?

Devin: Ella? Stella: Hm?

Devin: You’ve been staring at your laptop screen forever. What’s up? Stella: I think I finished my book.

Devin: What? Seriously? Let me read it! Stella: No! Devin: Pleaaaase? I’ve got nothing else to do. Stella: No, Devin!

Devin: Then why did you write it? You’re not gonna just keep it to yourself, are you?

Stella: Ugh, fine! But only a few chapters. Devin: You’re amazing.

[sunny374940]

Alone with you

The honeymoon fic is finally here! Or the first chapter is and there will be at least two more, so whew, this one got away from me.

This first chapter has flowers and a lot of sex, because those two can't take a day without getting it on. Enjoy! (and if you come yell in the comments, I am very likely to yell excitedly right back).

I am posting an excerpt here, the rest is on ao3

“Ah, Coreopsis, such a beautiful flower. It reminds me of you, dearest.”

The plant had yellow blossoms arranged on fine stems and it was actually kind of pretty in a subtle way. It reminded Rook of a slightly bigger daisy, but he wasn't all that sure about the resemblance to himself.

“How so? Am I also cute and good at attracting butterflies?” he said, grinning at Emmrich, who plucked one of the blooms and tucked it behind Rook's ear.

“Your cuteness, of course, is unparalleled, though I am not so sure about the butterflies,” he chuckled softly.

“But the flower stands for joy, and you are ever so cheerful, darling, I adore that about you.”

He was stroking Rook's curly hair, taking special care to brush against the point of his ear.

“It also stands for resilience, and I’ve said this before, but I have never met such an indomitable person as yourself.”

Emmrich was so close and he took Rook's hand in his and Rook knew his face was going red at the praise.

“And love at first sight, though I believe I do not need to elaborate upon that,” he finished, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, and his eyes held such reverence that Rook felt himself becoming lost in them.

“Oh,” he breathed out. He wouldn't have expected being compared to a flower to be anywhere on his list of turn ons, but there he was, very turned on.

Guys, it's here! @mercars-musings, @starfleetteddybear, @lavender-tea-fling, @redheadsramblings, @sorrowsfallallaround

(Also hi, @spinfins, do you want me to let you know when I post a story?)

[cosmiclily]

chapter three: party in la

wc: 2.6k

cw: alcohol consumption, making out.

“Alright, LA! My name is Y/N!” you shout into the mic, your voice carrying over the roaring crowd. “This is Jinx, our favorite guitarist!” You gesture toward Jinx, who grins and raises her guitar, prompting a fresh wave of cheers.

“And over here, we’ve got Ekko, our bassist!” Ekko steps forward slightly, throwing a playful wink at the crowd, his confident smile earning a loud round of applause.

“And last but definitely not least, in the back, we have Vi—your favorite drummer!” The crowd explodes into deafening screams, their enthusiasm almost shaking the venue. Over the last couple of weeks, Vi’s newfound “bad girl” reputation—fueled by her messy breakup with Caitlyn and her knack for stirring up controversy—has turned her into a social media sensation. The owners of the bars she went to hated her, but for some reason, she became really popular with some fans.

You weren’t complaining, though. Attention is attention, whether good or bad, and it undeniably helped the band climb out of obscurity and onto the radar of new fans.

“And we are Shadow and Shimmer,” you say, your voice steady but filled with emotion as you look out at the sea of faces. “Thank you so much for having us tonight, LA. Now, I’ll leave the stage to the big star of the night!” You give a small bow as the crowd cheers louder, and the four of you exit the stage, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“That was insane,” Ekko says, running a hand through his locks as you make your way backstage. “Best crowd we’ve had yet.”

“Yeah, well, Vi’s fan club out there definitely helps,” Jinx teases, nudging Vi with her elbow. “Bad girls for the win, right?”

Vi rolls her eyes but smirks, tossing a drumstick in the air and catching it effortlessly. “Whatever gets them to show up.”

You shake your head, laughing as you glance back toward the stage entrance, the faint echo of cheers still audible. “I just hope the crowd is this good when we headline our own show,” you say, walking toward the dressing room with the others trailing behind.

As you step inside, Archie is already waiting for you, his phone in hand and a grin plastered across his face.

“Great show, guys!” he says, clapping his hands. “There’s a lot of buzz on social media already—people asking who the opening act was. You’ve got new fans chomping at the bit to know more about you. And since this was the last show of the tour, I’m pretty confident about locking in that album deal.”

The room erupts in cheers, with Ekko and Jinx high-fiving each other while Vi leans back against the wall, her trademark smirk softening into something almost hopeful.

“We did it,” you say, a grin spreading across your face. “This tour was just the beginning.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Archie warns with a chuckle. “This is just step one. If that album deal comes through, it’s going to be a whole new level of work. But for now, enjoy this win. You’ve earned it.”

You sink into the worn couch in the dressing room, letting out a deep breath as your heart finally slows down. This is it! you think, excitement buzzing in your veins. Of course, there was still a mountain of work ahead, but success felt so close you could almost taste it. For the first time, the dream didn’t feel like a distant fantasy—it felt real.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” Archie says, adjusting his glasses as he heads for the door. “See you all tomorrow for the debrief.” He waves once before disappearing into the hallway, leaving the room in a rare, brief moment of calm.

Too brief.

As soon as the door clicks shut, you catch the glint in Jinx’s eyes—the mischievous spark that always precedes her best (and worst) ideas. She hops off her seat like a coiled spring, her grin stretching ear to ear.

“You know what this means, right?” she says, a dangerous edge of excitement in her voice. Before anyone can respond, she’s already grabbed a pair of makeup brushes from the vanity and started banging them against the shelf like drumsticks. “Partyyy!” she announces, punctuating the word with a mock drumroll.

Ekko groans, leaning his head back dramatically. “Jinx, come on. We’ve got a flight tomorrow. Can’t we just chill for one night?”

“Chill?” Jinx gasps, spinning around to face him with mock horror. “Ekko, we just smashed it in front of LA! The crowd loved us, Archie’s practically foaming at the mouth with the album deal, and you want to chill?!” She plants her hands on her hips, looking between all of you. “Vi, back me up here!”

Vi, who’s been leaning silently against the wall, sipping water like it’s the only thing keeping her upright, raises an eyebrow. “Depends. What kind of party are we talking about?”

“The kind that doesn’t involve thinking about flights or rehearsals or… whatever the hell Archie’s ‘debrief’ is,” Jinx says, hopping onto the couch beside you, her energy infectious. “Come on, we deserve this.”

You glance at Ekko, who’s already looking at you like he’s begging you to be the voice of reason. But as you sit there, the adrenaline still pumping, you can’t help but think Jinx has a point. You do deserve this.

“Fine,” you say, throwing your hands up in defeat. “But if we’re doing this, it’s low-key. No setting off fireworks in the hallway, Jinx.”

She gasps, clutching her chest dramatically. “Fireworks? Me? I would never.”

Vi chuckles, shaking her head. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

But even as she says it, there’s a small smile playing on her lips. And as Jinx jumps up, already planning the night ahead, you can’t help but feel a spark of excitement. Disaster or not, it’s exactly what you all need.

As you make your way to your hotel room, thoughts of the night ahead start creeping into your mind. Jinx had mentioned a "very low-key" club the dancers had been raving about—something underground and edgy. It sounded like the kind of place where you could blend in, dance out the stress, and maybe forget about the whirlwind that was your life for a few hours.

You unlock the door and step inside. Vi throws herself on her bed, makeup wipes in hand, already taking off the heavy eyeliner she wears for the concerts. But her laid-back demeanor doesn’t fool you. You’ve seen how fast her mood can shift, especially after a couple of drinks.

As you rummage through your suitcase, mentally cycling through outfit options, you glance over at her, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. “Do I need to worry about you tonight? Or can I focus solely on what kind of skirt I’ll be picking?”

Vi looks up, raising an eyebrow before chuckling. “No worries, princess. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

You narrow your eyes playfully, not entirely convinced. “Your ‘best behavior’ still includes breaking at least one rule.”

She grins, leaning back against the headboard. “Okay, fair. But tonight, I promise—no fights, no drama. Just me, a couple of drinks, and maybe a little dancing. You’re the one who should be careful, though. Those ‘low-key’ places Jinx picks always have some kind of chaos waiting.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you pull out a black skirt and pair it with a crop top. “Chaos is kind of her thing. But maybe that’s exactly what we need tonight.”

Vi watches you for a moment. “Yeah… maybe it is.”

You nod, heading toward the bathroom to change. Tonight was about unwinding, letting loose, and—if you were lucky—having just enough fun to leave the stress behind without waking up with regrets. And with Jinx leading the charge, you knew one thing for sure: it wouldn’t be boring.

──────────────────────

The club was… interesting. It was exactly the kind of place Jinx always seemed to thrive in: loud music that vibrated through your chest, bright, flashing lights, and an overwhelming sea of people dancing like there was no tomorrow. You, on the other hand, were more of a bar person. You liked loud music too, but the kind where you could still have a conversation without shouting yourself hoarse.

You leaned toward the others, trying to make yourself heard over the relentless bass. “Do you guys want to get a drink?” you shouted, your voice barely cutting through the noise. Still, the message got across as they nodded in agreement.

“What do you guys want? I’ll order while you find us a spot to sit,” Ekko offered, his voice somehow carrying just enough to be heard.

“I’ll go with you,” Vi said casually, stuffing her hands into her leather jacket pockets. The two of them turned to you and Jinx for your orders before weaving through the crowd toward the bar.

You glanced at Jinx, who was already scanning the chaotic room with her sharp eyes, clearly in her element. Together, you navigated through the packed dance floor, searching for a place to settle down. After some maneuvering, you managed to claim a small booth near the edge of the room, away from the thickest part of the crowd but still close enough to feel the club’s electric energy.

As you slid into the booth, Jinx gave you a knowing smirk, leaning in closer to be heard. “So… what are your plans for tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow at her, unsure of where she was going with this. “What do you mean? My plan is to survive this chaos, maybe have a drink, and avoid any unnecessary drama.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, her grin widening. “Come on. You can’t come to a place like this without at least *some* intention of having fun. No crushes you want to dance with? No one you’re secretly hoping to bump into?” She wagged her eyebrows teasingly.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Not all of us live for chaos, Jinx. I’m staying away of relationships dramas, Vi’s is already plenty.”

Jinx leaned back, shrugging. “Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t warn you if Vi gets all the attention tonight. The ‘bad girl’ image is magnetic, y’know. People eat that stuff up.”

You glanced toward the bar, catching a glimpse of Vi and Ekko still waiting for drinks. Vi was leaning casually against the counter, her presence naturally commanding, even in a place like this. Jinx wasn’t wrong—people had been flocking to her lately, drawn to her reckless charm. You just hoped the night wouldn’t spiral into one of her infamous scenes.

“Yeah, well, let’s just see how the night goes,” you said, brushing off Jinx’s teasing. You weren’t entirely sure what you were hoping for tonight, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something unexpected was bound to happen. After all, with this group, it always did.

──────────────────────

And one drink turned into two, then three, then four. Before you realized, you were already on the dance floor, the bass of the music thrumming through your chest like a second heartbeat. You were sandwiched between a blonde woman with a dazzling smile and who you assumed was her equally attractive friend. Their laughter mingled with the pounding music, and though their words were lost in the noise, their energy was infectious.

Right now, you didn’t really care how stuffy the room felt or how you’d probably sweated off most of your makeup. The tension and exhaustion that had been clinging to you for weeks melted away with every beat of the music. The world outside didn’t matter; there was only the rhythm, the heat, and the pulse of bodies moving around you.

The blonde leaned in closer, saying something you couldn’t hear but smiling like you’d just shared the funniest joke. You laughed along anyway, her carefree energy pulling you deeper into the moment. You caught a glimpse of Jinx across the room, perched on the edge of a couch like a queen surveying her kingdom, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she watched you. Ekko was by the bar, deep in conversation with someone who looked just as enamored with him as he was with his drink.

Then, there was Vi. Leaning against the wall near the edge of the dance floor, drink in hand, her sharp blue eyes locked onto you. You weren’t sure how long she’d been watching, but her expression was unreadable, her lips pressed into a thin line. It was like she was caught between amusement and something else—something heavier.

For a moment, the room seemed to spin a little slower. The blonde woman grabbed your hand, pulling you closer, and you let yourself go again, never breaking eye contact with Vi. Not as you kissed the blonde, or as her friend leaned in to claim her own moment with you. The bass thudded around you, drowning out the world, but the intensity of Vi’s stare burned through the haze like a spotlight.

Eventually, you peeled yourself away, making your way back to your booth. Jinx was waiting, perched on the edge of the seat with a shot glass of something bright purple in her hand. Three more shots were lined up neatly on the table, like soldiers ready for duty.

“When did you have time to get more shots?” you asked, eyebrows raised as you slid into the booth beside her.

She grinned, her signature mischievous smile spreading across her face. “While you were busy sucking face with the two hotties, of course.”

You rolled your eyes, but the flush creeping up your neck betrayed you. Before you could respond, Vi and Ekko appeared, almost as if summoned by Jinx’s teasing. Vi’s expression was carefully neutral, but her eyes flicked to you for just a second too long before she sat down across from you.

“What did we miss?” Ekko asked, his eyebrows raised as he slid into the booth, glancing between you and Jinx.

“Oh, nothing much,” Jinx said, her tone light but laced with mischief. “Just *someone* making out with not one, but two people on the dance floor.” She shot you a sly look, clearly enjoying herself.

Ekko barked out a laugh, grabbing one of the shots from the table. “That’s the kind of energy I like to see! Let’s keep it going!” He raised the glass in a toast, the excitement in his voice infectious.

“For someone who didn’t even wanna come tonight, you sure sound hyped,” you teased, grabbing your own shot glass. Your words were light, but you couldn’t ignore the weight of Vi’s gaze on you. She was sitting just across the table, silent as she swirled the drink in her hand, her expression unreadable. Was it disinterest? Annoyance? Something else entirely? You couldn’t quite pin it down, but it was enough to make your stomach flutter uneasily.

You hesitated for a moment, the glass cool against your fingers, before clinking it against Jinx and Ekko’s.

“To bad decisions,” Jinx declared dramatically, her wicked grin making it clear she had no regrets about anything that had happened—or would happen—tonight.

“To bad decisions,” you echoed, tipping the shot back in one swift motion. The alcohol burned on its way down, a sharp reminder of just how far you’d let yourself loosen up tonight. For a second, you thought about those fleeting moments on the dance floor—your hands tangled in blonde hair, the press of unfamiliar lips, and Vi’s eyes locked on yours from across the room.

──────────────────────

masterlist - chapter four

notes: special thanks to @entraptasimp for helping me with the name

vi is so hot in this fic i keep foaming at the mouth when i’m writing her 😭😭

taglist: @oidloid @saturnhas82moons @baylegend6 @vaebear