#never blocked an account faster

[extremely-judgemental]

Just saw someone say Rhysand and Feyre are the blueprint of unconditional love.

🙂

Why are pros coming to a clearly critical blog? It's right there!! Under the name.

[smallerthantherain]

A porn bot posted some random links in the replies of a photo highlighting how gorgeous my dog is

How dare you?

[thehorsesthatareslow]

Hey just a reminder, I am staunchly pro-palestinian and zionism is not something welcome on this blog at all. If you're Zionist or consider yourself neutral on what's happening in Palestine, kindly fuck right off.

I have resources for Palestinian Aid on my main @shedscaper for anyone wanting to donate/spread awareness❤️🇵🇸

[stllmnstr]

sure thing – part one.

pairing: yang jungwon x f reader

genre: coworkers au, underground boxer jungwon

part one word count: 12.9k

warnings: swearing, descriptions/depictions of physical violence, blood and minor injuries, jealousy, a bit of a love triangle I’m SORRY, blonde boxer jungwon because yes I think that does warrant a warning, I had to split this into 2 parts because post block limit got me everyone say BOOOOO TUMBLR!!!!!!

note: this is what happens when you watch the no doubt music video and then also listen to too much chase atlantic. ALSO let me duck before the sacred monsters readers start throwing tomatoes at me I PROMISE I am working on part 4 I just... had this idea and it would not leave me alone. but cheers to another fantastic enhypen release (daydream and no doubt are both on repeat for meeeeee) and to my first jungwon fic. enjoy!

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

An employee in the marketing department of a large company, your days are filled with poorly worded emails, unrealistic deadlines, and passive aggressive friendly reminders from your superiors. On a particularly awful afternoon, a chance encounter with a coworker from the programming department down the hall is the first thing to make you smile in weeks.

But the more you uncover about Yang Jungwon and his mysterious injuries, flimsy excuses, and always occupied Friday nights, the more you begin to realize that you really don’t know him at all.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

The printer is jammed.

It takes a very exaggerated eye roll and an embarrassing amount of self control to refrain from kicking the damn thing. Besides, you’re pretty sure your previous wording was too kind. 

Because a more accurate depiction of the situation would be:

The printer is jammed. Again. 

You’re not sure which cruel deity is responsible for the creation of Monday afternoons, but you’re sure they’re laughing at you now. Dressed in business casual and praying against all odds that the clock hanging on the office wall will start ticking a little faster, you almost wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Spare you from your misery 

And it’s not like a jammed printer is the end of the world. From a logical, unbiased point of view, you’re sure it’s nothing but a small, easily solvable problem. 

But it’s four pm on a Monday afternoon and you’ve had back-to-back meetings since you clocked in at eight this morning. The only real break you had lasted twelve minutes. Most of which were spent dabbing coffee stains from your blouse after Terry from accounting knocked into you in the staff kitchen. 

Your head is pounding and your feet are aching and your bladder is overly full and your left bra strap is starting to dig into your shoulder in a way that is entirely too overstimulating. 

And you really, really just need this report to print. 

After all, your boss made it very clear that you would not be clocking out for the day, no matter what hour of the evening it is, until said document is laid on his desk. Never mind the fact that you weren’t made aware of this demand until a handful of hours ago. 

So yeah, the printer jamming – again – does kind of feel like the end of the world. 

The screen is still flashing with an angry reminder to fix the paper jam in Tray 2. The instructions are starting to blur a little as you furiously blink away hot tears. 

You won’t cry at work. You won’t.

But your exhaustion is catching up with you, and the first thing it usually takes with it is your control over your emotions. 

The more you try to will them away, the more insistently they want to escape. 

Bent over the printer, you’re in the middle of trying to dislodge a particularly stubborn piece of A4 when the first tear finally does escape. It falls in a thick, wet train down the length of your cheek, settling for a moment at the base of your chin before dripping, a little pathetically, right onto the stack of papers in the printer tray. 

Your hands go slack on the sheet you’re warring with. 

For a moment, all you can do is sigh. Hang your head and hope some higher power takes pity on you. 

Stressed, burnt out, overworked. This was not how you thought you’d be spending your early twenties. But a salary is a salary, and fighting with an inanimate object on the worst day of the week keeps your lights on and your stomach full. 

Hunched over, you’re suddenly glad that the printer is kept in a separate room outside of the main office space. That there are no witnesses to your slightly pathetic meltdown.

Save for a few, it’s not like you care all that much about what your coworkers think of you. But the last thing you need to add to this day is a fresh bout of humiliation. 

Just one more minute, you tell yourself. One more minute of silence before you pull yourself together and finish dislodging the stupid piece of paper. 

It must be at least 4:10 by now, which means you have less than an hour to go. You can do it. You can. You just need one more minute of silen–

“Everything okay?” 

The sudden intrusion is so startling that your head jerks up in a subconscious reaction. Only, of course, to be met with the open printer tray you’re currently trying to troubleshoot. 

The clunk that echoes through the tiny printer room as your temple comes in direct contact with hard plastic is almost as loud as it is painful. 

“Ah,” you wince, hand instinctively flying to the side of your head. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, ____.” You’re not sure if your hesitation comes from embarrassment or the fact that you head is still spinning. Either way, you’re slow to move as you look up at your sudden audience. 

Over your shoulder, Yang Jungwon has nothing but apologies written all over his delicate features. Brow pulling into a concerned frown, he’s quick to kneel to your level. 

If anyone was going to find you like this, you suppose you’re glad it was him. A recent hire fresh out of university, Jungwon has carved out a quiet kind of reputation for himself in the office. 

His presence isn’t commanding, but it is steady. The kind of person that you never see get worked up or angry or even annoyed no matter how many last minute deadlines are assigned or how many printers get jammed when he really needs to use them. 

And from what you’ve gathered, he mostly keeps to himself. It’s not from a lack of effort on your coworkers’ behalf. You know firsthand that he’s been invited to multiple post work gatherings and weekend events. 

His popularity doesn’t exactly surprise you. Even with his quiet demeanor, he has a striking presence. One that makes you curious, leaves you wanting to know more. 

Never mind the fact that he’s absolutely gorgeous. 

Still, despite their efforts, you also know that he’s politely declined each and every invitation without ever giving any real explanation. 

In all honesty, you’ve always just assumed there was a girlfriend he was eager to run home to. 

But even that is nothing more than a mindless assumption. After all, you’ve only had a few interactions with him, and nothing beyond the typical small talk all office workers develop a talent for. 

Even now, he makes the simple button down and slacks he’s wearing look like they came right from a runway. 

You’re not quite sure why, but it almost makes you want to cry harder. 

At the very least, you’re pretty sure you don’t need to worry about rumors of you having a minor meltdown in the printer room spreading through the office. Jungwon might be a hot topic of office gossip, but he’s not one to spread it.

“I am so sorry,” he repeats, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” His words are spilling out a bit too fast, blurring into each other around the edges. “I just saw you in here, and I couldn’t tell if you were okay or not, so I wanted to–��

“Jungwon,” you interrupt. There’s no kind way of telling him that his rambling is only making your headache worse. That it’s only making your tears fall faster. Instead, you abet his misplaced guilt. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

A bit shakily, you muster up your most convincing smile. But your smudged mascara, slightly puffy eyelids, and still visible tear track suggest otherwise. 

Jungwon’s brow just pulls together a little further. “Are you sure?” He’s unconvinced. Taking a wary glance at the printer tray, he looks back to you with concern in his eyes. “That sounded like it hurt.”

“Really,” you force another weak smile. “I’m sure.”

“Can I at least take a look at it?” Guilt is still written plain as day across his face. 

Assuming he’s referring to the printer, you nod before taking one big scooch to the side. Within the confines of this tiny room, it only puts you closer to him. 

And it takes less than a second for you to realize your assumption was wrong. Because Jungwon doesn’t reach for that stupid piece of A4 still jammed inside Tray 2 or even the printer tray that just nearly concussed you. 

No, instead, his long fingers trek a steady path towards your hand. The one that still rests against your temple. Gently, he pries it away, replacing it with his own careful touch.

You’re all but immobile as gentle fingers press lightly against the side of your face, adjusting it slightly. His fingers are cool, soothing as he turns your injury towards the overhead light. 

Pliant in his hands, it’s all you can do to watch as his brow furrows in concentration, eyes scanning over your skin. Taking the skin of your bottom lip between your teeth, you pray he doesn’t notice the sudden heat in your cheeks. 

From this angle, with this proximity, you can practically count his eyelashes. They’re long, you notice. Long and wispy where they frame his dark eyes. 

“No broken skin,” he finally asserts. You can feel his breath against your skin. It takes nearly all your concentration to suppress the shiver that threatens to trace your spine. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if it bruises. There’s a bit of swelling, too. Keep an eye on it these next few days, and let me know if it doesn’t go down on its own.” 

You’re not exactly sure if Jungwon – quiet, gentle Jungwon – would be the first person you’d go to for first aid advice, but you nod anyway. 

And you’re not sure where it comes from, the sudden urge to cry again. But somewhere between the pain in your head and the soft probing of his fingers against your skin, emotions are starting to bubble beneath your stoic facade. 

It’s subtle, barely perceivable, but you can feel your bottom lip beginning to quiver. 

Much to your unending humiliation, you’re not the only one who notices. 

You’re not sure how he does, but he does. 

“Hey,” Jungwon tries. His hand is still on your face. His voice is impossibly soft, and it only makes you want to cry harder. You feel like a skittish kitten he’s trying to lure in from a rainstorm. 

His lips part as if he’s going to continue. They fall shut again before he can. 

Something in his brow softens. Concern is replaced with empathy. 

Hand falling back to his side, he suddenly changes the subject. “You’re in the marketing department, right?”

Lips still trembling, you turn your eyes towards the floor before giving him a small nod.  

From this angle, the only thing you see are his shoes. Standard leather work shoes, they’re slightly scuffed where they rest against the carpet. 

They still look formal, of course. Nothing that would raise any eyebrows in a professional setting. And from far away, you’re sure they appear pristine. 

But from this close, you can make out all sorts of rough edges. Little marks and dents and scuffs that serve as evidence of where he’s been. 

“Why don’t you head home for the day,” Jungwon suggests gently from above you. “I’ll let your team and your supervisor know that you’re not feeling well.” 

You take a deep breath, do your best to make sure your voice is steady before you respond. Shaking your head, you point out, “It’s almost the end of the day anyway–”

“Exactly,” Jungown nods, kind but firm. “There’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Actually,” you grimace, trying not to let the truth inspire another round of tears. “I need the report I was trying to print. I have to turn it in before I leave today.”

There’s a beat of silence. You’re worried that Jungwon will keep offering you too much kindness, so you rush to fill it. “It’s fine, though. I think the paper jam is almost fixed, and I already sent the report to the printer, so I’m sure it will come through in a minute–”

“Perfect,” Jungwon interrupts again. “I’ll take it to your boss, then. Alan, right? I’ve spoken with him before. I’ll also let him know that you went home for the day.”

“Jungwon, you don’t have to–”

“I know.” At the interruption, your eyes snap back to him. There’s an intensity in his eyes when you match his gaze. Something so sincere that it’s hard to look away. Even though you know your eyes are still shiny with tears you wish you’d hidden better. Even if the stress and exhaustion and weariness are probably written plain as day across your features.

“I know,” he repeats. “I want to. Go home and get some rest, okay?”

It’s probably stupid, to agree so easily. But something in his eyes has you believing, even if just for a moment, that everything will be just fine if you do what he suggests. That all of your concerns and worries will work themselves out and you’ll be able to come into the office tomorrow feeling refreshed for once. For the first time in a long time. 

So you nod. You let him help you up off the floor and don’t bother hiding your face as you wipe the last of your unshed tears from your eyelashes. It probably only smudges your mascara further, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about that, either. 

The printer is still jammed and your report isn’t turned in and you’ll have to walk past your entire team back to your desk to get your things on your way out. 

But for this fleeting moment, those worries feel small. Distant. Manageable. Able to be tucked away and saved for later. 

You still don’t know much about Jungwon. The only knowledge you have comes from speculation and wishful thinking. But now, more than ever, you really wish you knew something of substance. 

But you have no idea how to tell him that. Don’t know if you even should. So instead, you say what you can. 

“Thank you, Jungwon.”

For a moment, all he does is smile. It’s small, but it reaches his eyes. Makes them sparkle a little brighter. 

His voice, like the rest of him, is gentle when he says, “Sure thing, ___.”

…..

Despite the fact that it accounts for roughly eighty percent of your job, you prefer to avoid your email inbox like the plague. 

Most days, by the time you do get around to checking it, it’s already jam packed with unreasonable requests and last-minute changes and passive aggressive friendly reminders from your superiors. 

When you sit down at your desk on Tuesday morning, you’re extra reluctant. After the printer fiasco yesterday, you’re feeling particularly sensitive to all of the potential bullshit. And you have the distinct feeling that a rather nasty message about leaving the office early unannounced is surely waiting for you. 

But the inevitable can only be delayed so long. With a wince and a final swig of coffee, you muster the courage to give the mail icon on your desktop a double click. 

The top of your inbox is filled with the usual nonsense. A request for a meeting tomorrow morning on a project idea you’ve had finalized for months. An RSVP form for the optional, but highly encouraged, upcoming staff party. A reminder from your boss that final quarterly reports need to be submitted by Friday at the latest. 

A few lines down, though, something out of the ordinary catches your eye. Checking the time stamp, you see that it was sent right as the day started. 

From: yangj@vesselsoft.co 

Subject: Printer Issue Follow-Up

Contemplating for a moment, you frown. The first floor of Vesselsoft is no stranger to printer jams. They’re typical occurrences, not major problems to be resolved via email. You didn’t think there was a printer issue to follow up on. 

But it’s far more intriguing than anything else on your work account. So, ignoring all of the other messages, you open the email from Jungwon. 

Good morning ____, 

I hope you’re doing well. I wanted to let you know that the workroom printer jam has been fixed, and your report was delivered safe and sound yesterday evening. I also wanted to check in and see how your head is feeling. 

Best, 

Jungwon

You reread it. Once. Twice. 

It’s a simple message, all things considered. But it has you searching for subtext where there likely isn’t any. If anything, this serves as a confirmation of what you already knew about Jungwon. 

He’s kind. Considerate. The type of person that would help you fix a jammed printer and check in on you the next morning. Right when he clocks in. 

The type that could probably tell that your head was the least of your concerns yesterday, but still chooses to ask how you’re doing  without drawing excess attention to it. 

For a moment, you almost wish he would make a habit of attending after hours work events. You have the distinct feeling that sucking up to your superiors would be a little less awful if someone like him was around to do it with you. 

From: You

To: yangj@vesselsoft.co

Subject: Re: Printer Issue Follow-Up

Good morning Jungwon, 

Thank you for resolving that printer issue! And thank you for checking in. My head is feeling much better today. 

Thanks again, 

____

After a final once over, you press the send button, watching as the animation shows the message flying out from your inbox. 

You imagine it flying into his. It’s subconscious, the way you start to picture what his face will look like when he sees it. 

You know he’s in the programming department, which is on the same floor as your office. Honestly, you’re a bit surprised you haven't seen him around more. 

Will he smile, you wonder. Will he have that same, gentle fondness in his eyes he seems to carry with him everywhere?

You don’t get an answer to that particular question, but you do learn that Jungwon is an incredibly prompt communicator. 

It’s barely been ten minutes before your inbox is chiming again. 

From: yangj@vesselsoft.co 

Subject: Re: Printer Issue Follow-Up

Sure thing, ___. Glad to hear it. 

Jungwon

You can’t hide the small smile that threatens to turn the corners of your lips upward. It’s not like he’s done anything particularly groundbreaking. But even bits of kindness have become a bit of a rarity for you these days.

You can’t think of anyone else in the office that would insist on sending you home thirty minutes early and offer to finish up your work for you. You can’t think of anyone else who would have navigated yesterday’s fiasco with as much gentle care as he did.

You can’t remember the last time someone bothered to consider you. To lighten your load when they noticed you starting to sink under the weight of it. 

So you’re smiling. Despite the fact that it’s still a Tuesday morning and you have a long week ahead of you. Despite the fact that you’re still very much locked into a job you mostly despise. 

Mentally, you make a note to give some gesture of your gratitude. To do something that will brighten his day a bit, too. 

But you don’t know him. Don’t know how he takes his coffee or if he has a favorite brand of ballpoint pen or if he could use an extra favor from someone in the marketing department. All the sorts of things that coworkers do to show a little bit of appreciation. 

But the universe, at least in part, seems to be on your side today. 

When you head into the staff kitchen for your mid-morning coffee refill, you find it already occupied. 

It’s a bit ridiculous, the way you suddenly feel flustered. Have the urge to smooth your hair, fix your blouse. 

He has his back turned to you, and it takes you nearly half a minute of contemplation to decide whether or not to say something. In the end, the decision is made for you. 

Your phone lights up with an urgent request that you check over the second half of the report you – well, Jungwon – submitted last night. 

Sighing, you turn away from the kitchen. Your second cup of coffee, and a conversation with a certain programmer, will just have to wait. 

You do, however, notice one last thing before you go. Watching silently, you can’t help but smile a bit as you watch Jungwon add two sugar packets to his mug. 

Sweet, you think. Just like him. And now you have at least one bit of information to work with. 

After submitting the edits on your report, you decide to use your recently earned knowledge. Deciding that he’s worth the splurge, you open the delivery page of the cafe down the street, the one that’s ridiculously overpriced but undoubtedly makes the best coffee in the area. 

And when you order it in his name, a hot coffee with two sugars, you ask the barista to attach a note. 

Thank you again for yesterday. I hope this is how you like your coffee! 

An hour later, your inbox chimes with another message. 

From: yangj@vesselsoft.co 

Subject: Thank You

You’re too kind, ____. Thank you for the coffee. How did you know just how I like it?

All the best, 

Jungwon

If his words make you smile a little too hard, well, you figure no one ever has to know. 

The universe, however, would seem to have other plans. 

Of everyone in the marketing department, you find your coworker Grace to be the most bearable. A few years older than you, she was by far the most welcoming when you joined the team. 

And you have the sneaking suspicion she has just as much disdain for your supervisor as you, even if the two of you have never openly discussed it. 

Unfortunately, she does have the fatal flaw of never being able to finish her work day without getting herself involved in someone else’s business. For the most part, you’re spared from her nosiness. 

Mostly because your life doesn’t carry the same flair for drama that she loves most. But today, she decides to give it a shot anyway. 

Standing behind your office chair, she nearly startles you out of your seat when she asks, “Who’s got you smiling like that?”

Closing the email as quickly as you can, you turn to face her. 

“No one.” It’s too rushed, too evasive. She sees right through it. 

“Mhmm.” 

Heat rising in your cheeks, you double down. “No, really.” Scrambling for a lie, your eyes land on one of your desk photos. One that shows your childhood cat, affectionately named Mr. Snuggles by your elementary school self. “I just heard from the vet that my cat is feeling a lot better. I was worried she was really sick.”

It’s a bold faced lie. Mr. Snuggles has been dead since your third year of high school. 

“Ah,” Grace says. Her features fall slightly as she realizes she won’t be getting a worthy scoop from you. Realizing that’s probably not an appropriate reaction, she forces a smile. “That’s great! I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” you nod, hoping it will mark the end of the conversation. 

But Grace isn’t quite ready to let it go. “That does remind me, though. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Uh oh. 

“You’re not seeing anyone, right?” You’re not sure how a sick cat would remind her of your dating life, but you suppose there are larger mysteries to be solved. 

And on second consideration – oh. Is it really that obvious? “No,” the syllable drags as you attempt to tread carefully. “Why?”

Grace shrugs, but the conversation feels more calculated than nonchalant. “I was at my friend’s baby shower a couple of weeks ago, and her younger brother just moved back to the city. He’s been living abroad since high school. He’s around your age and a total catch. I didn’t talk to him much, but he reminded me of you a bit. I think the two of you would get on.” 

“Oh,” is all you say. Your uncertainty must be written all over your features, because Grace is quick to continue.

“No pressure, of course. But let me know if you’d like me to pass his number along.”

Do you? It’s been ages since you went on a date. And even longer since you went on a date with someone you’d describe as a total catch. 

And apparently, your single-ness is painfully visible to the people around you if Grace was able to pick up on it so easily. 

Besides, it might be nice, you think. To have a conversation with someone that isn’t about quarterly reports or upcoming deadlines or jammed printers. 

But then your mind wanders to the last conversation you had about a jammed printer. To a set of pretty, dark eyes and a pair of gentle hands. 

To a string of email conversations that don’t really mean anything. But you almost wish they did. 

It’s messy, you think. Far from ideal. JUngwon might not be in your department, but he still works just down the hall. Inter company relationships aren’t forbidden, but they do carry a certain amount of risk.

Jungwon isn’t petty. He wouldn’t make your life a living hell if things were to end badly. But you might start feeling awkward in the staff kitchen and you might have to start timing your walks to the parking lot so that they don’t coincide with his.

Small adjustments. Minor inconveniences more than anything.

Besides, it’s all conjecture. 

You can count the conversations you’ve had with Jungwon on your fingers, and the majority have been channeled through your work email. 

It’s hardly romantic. 

But even as you try to see things from a detached, logical perspective, one thought keeps swimming back to you.

You think you could talk about jammed printers forever, as long as it was with him. 

Sighing, your heart can’t decide if it wants to sink to your stomach or crawl up your throat at the realization. 

Turning back to Grace, you just offer her a tight smile. “I’ll let you know.”

…..

In the coming weeks, your coincidental run-ins with Jungwon start to become more and more frequent. 

First, it’s the two of you just so happening to need a coffee refill at the same time. When your path cross in the staff kitchen, you raise an eyebrow at the sugar packets he adds to his mug and he shakes his head as you take a long sip of your plain, bitter drink of choice. 

Then, it’s the morning in the parking lot when the two of you just so happen to arrive at the same time, pulling into adjacent parking spots. His smile is gentle, albeit a bit sleepy, when he bids you, “Good morning.” 

Your heart flutters a bit when you return the sentiment. You do your best to ignore it. 

Next, you stumble across him in the staircase on an otherwise quiet afternoon. This time, however, he’s already deep in another conversation. Or, you realize at second glance, trying very hard to wiggle his way out of another conversation. 

For all intents and purposes, Jenna from the legal department is a sweet girl. A bit overbearing at times and doesn’t always take well to being told no, but she’s harmless for the most part. Smart and driven and you admit a little glumly, quite pretty. 

Even underneath the overhead fluorescents in the stairway, she manages to avoid looking washed out. 

They’re already talking by the time you get there, and the only thing you catch is the tail end of their rather one-sided conversation. 

“It’s a great place, really,” Jenna insists, smiling a little too brightly. “And the food is to die for. They’re always running really unique specials. I think you’d really like it.”

And you could just turn around and pretend not to have seen anything. You could just take the elevator instead. In fact, you probably should. 

But suddenly, it’s as if your shoes have been filled with lead. Feet frozen to the earth, all you can do is watch. 

“Oh,” Jungwon reaches for the back of his neck. “Thanks for thinking of me, Jenna, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.”

“Oh, really?” she pouts. “Is there another night that would work bett–”

“Jungwon!” Your voice is too loud, reverberating off the walls of the stairway in a way that has two pairs of eyes immediately darting towards you. And interrupting had seemed like a good idea a few seconds ago, but now you realize your fatal mistake. 

You have no plan. No idea what to say next. 

Still, you force a smile. “Just the person I was looking for.”

You don’t think you’re imagining it, the immediate wash of relief that colors Jungwon’s features. 

“Hey, ___,” Jenna waves, a bit dejectedly. She doesn’t exactly look pleased to see you, and you can’t really blame her. “Could you give us a minute? I was just in the middle of–”

“Sorry, Jenna,” you shake your head. “This is kind of urgent.”

“Right,” Jungwon nods, looking at you again. “We’d better go then.”

“But I–”

“See you around, Jenna.” You’re tone is too bright as you spin around, making a beeline back towards the door. A flicker of satisfaction warms in your chest when you realize Jungwon is right on your heels. 

He waits until the two of you are back in the empty hallway, closed door serving as a barrier between you and Jenna, before he speaks. 

Looking at you, he quirks his head to the side. “So, what’s the urgent thing you need help with?”

Oh. Right. 

Sighing, you decide honesty, or at least partial honesty, might be your best bet. 

“Sorry,” your smile is sheepish, “did I read that wrong? There’s nothing urgent. I just…” you trail off, searching for the words. “It just looked like you might have needed an exit.”

For a moment, he says nothing. The silence gives your mind too much room to spin

Maybe you did read things wrong. Maybe he was enjoying a perfectly pleasant conversation with perfectly pleasant Jenna. Maybe he was looking forward to going to a nice restaurant with her and trying all sorts of unique specials and–

“Thank you.”

“What?”

Jungwon’s eyes soften. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost describe his expression as… fondness. “An exit,” he clarifies. “I did need one. So thank you.”

“Right.” Your voice is suddenly breathless, and you can’t think of a good excuse for it. Feigning a nonchalance you don’t feel, you wave off his gratitude, “Anytime.” 

“Careful,” Jungwon warns, but the same hint of teasing, the same glimmer of affection, is still there. “I just might take you up on that.” 

“It’s a good thing I meant it, then.”

Jungwon’s features soften into a smile. A small one, meant just for the two of you. Reaching up, he pushes a stray strand of hair from his eyes. 

It’s only natural that you follow the movement. His hands are nice, you think. Long, lithe fingers, and–

You frown, eyes zeroing in on the knuckles of his right hand. 

Bruises, you realize. Dark, purple bruises span the length of his knuckles. Angry and mottled and from what you can tell, recent. 

And so many. You can’t imagine what he could have possibly done to earn them. 

Gaze still trained on the injury, your eyes widen. “Are you okay?”

It’s Jungwon’s turn to be confused. “What?”

“Your hand,” you nod at it. “Are those bruises?”

“Oh.” He shrugs, brushes it off like it’s nothing. But his hand falls to his side, obscured from your sight, all the same. “Yeah, I just slipped the other day trying to hang a picture in my apartment. The frame caught me funny when it fell.”

“You… slipped.”

Your disbelief must be apparent, because Jungwon is quick to add, “My hand slipped, really. My phone started ringing, and it caught me off guard.”

“Ouch,” you grimace. “That sounds like it hurt.”

Again, Jungwon shrugs. But his eyes are doing that thing again. Sparkling. “It’s not so bad.”

“Still,” you insist. “You should be more careful.”

“Yeah,” Jungwon agrees. It’s just the two of you, alone in a dimly lit hallway. His gaze is trained on yours. The distance between you is respectable, appropriate. Suggests that the two of you are coworkers and nothing more. But you have the distinct feeling that he’s not entirely talking about hanging pictures when he says, “I probably should.”

…..

The next morning, Grace is the first person you see as you walk into the office. And she’s already waiting for you. As soon as you come in, she hands you a coffee with an apologetic smile. 

“Uh oh.” You hang your coat, accepting the cup from her hands. It’s not unusual to receive coffee from a coworker, but it usually comes as a form of consolation. “What’s this for?”

“It’s from Alan, actually.”

Your lips flatten. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It’s not that bad, really.” Grace’s smile is less than convincing. “He just wants us all to get together this Friday night after work at that bar down the street. Y’know, to network.”

You groan internally. There go your plans for a relaxing Friday at home. 

“How is it networking if it’s just our team? We see each other every day.”

“That’s the other part,” Grace nods towards the cup in your hand. “Didn’t you notice he pulled out all the stops? That’s from the shop down the road. The one that charges eleven dollars for a small latte.”

“Oh god,” you groan, this time audibly. “What else does he want?”

“We’ve all been strongly encouraged to invite people from different teams around the company.”

You suppress a strong urge to roll your eyes. “Of course we have.”

Privately, you think that if Alan wants to network so bad, he should be responsible for creating the guest list himself. Outwardly, you just sigh. 

As if you didn’t have enough on your plate already. Now you need to schmooze some other poor employee into wasting their Friday night talking about work. 

Sitting down at your desk, you take a sip of your coffee. It is admittedly delicious. The thought only makes you want to bang your head on your keyboard even more. 

The problem of finding a plus one follows you all the way through the afternoon. All the way to the workroom, where you once again stumble into a certain blonde programmer that’s beginning to feel like part of your daily routine. 

This time, Jungwon is alone. 

He’s frowning at the printer, brow furrowed. 

“Don’t tell me it’s jammed.” 

When he sees that it’s you, his features immediately soften. He smiles and something tugs at your heart. It’s enough to have you forgetting about Friday night, even if just for a moment. 

“No, thankfully. My computer just doesn’t seem to want to connect to this printer.”

“Mm,” you hum. “Send it to me, and I’ll try printing from mine.”

Jungwon shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll just go up to the accounting department and try their printer.”

“Jungwon,” you level him with a look. “You are the last person to be telling me I don’t have to do you a favor. It’s really no problem. Just send it over.”

“Okay,” he finally relents. 

Waiting for it to ping through on your end, an idea suddenly strikes you. You’re not sure if it’s a good one or if your judgment is starting to be warped by all of the toner cartridge fumes, but here, in a quiet workroom with nothing but Jungwon and a half-working printer to keep you company, you find a bit of your bravery. 

“I know this probably isn’t your idea of a perfect evening,” you start. Your words feel too loud in this tiny space. “But the marketing team is getting together after work for drinks this Friday night. We’re also encouraged to branch outside of our department and invite other company employees, so if you’re free, we’d love to have you.” The more you say, the worse it sounds to your own ears. Why would anyone, much less Jungwon, want to come to a work event for the marketing team. Suddenly embarrassed you even brought it up, you find yourself rambling. “The bar is actually pretty nice. It’s not super fancy or anything, but it has, uh, really great chandeliers. It’s a nice ambience, and–”

“___.” Jungwon interrupts with the sound of your name. 

“Yeah?” You’re trying not to sound too hopeful, but you have the distinct feeling that you fail miserably. Despite your hesitance, you realize something. 

You want him to say yes. 

You want him to give you a different response than he gives everyone else. A different response than he gave Jenna. 

You want him to say yes, even though no one wants to go to a work event for the marketing team on a Friday night. 

You want him to say yes anyway, because it’s you. 

“I’d love to, really.” He reaches up, scratching at the back of his neck. “But I’m busy Friday night.”

Short. Succinct. To the point. He doesn’t spare any extra details. 

You already knew it was a long shot. But it stings all the same. 

You wanted to be the exception to the rule. Someone that would finally get him to say yes. Or at the very least, someone he would bother to give an actual reason for his absence to. 

“Oh.” Your voice is smaller than you mean for it to be. “Of course!” And now it’s too loud, too bright. You can’t find the happy medium, can’t find your natural tone. “I’m sure whatever it is will be way more fun, anyway.”

Jungwon just gives you a small smile, not bothering to affirm or refute your assumption. Not deigning to add any more details. 

It kind of makes you wish that the ground would open up and swallow you whole. 

“Well, I should probably get back to my desk.” You don’t know why you’re scrambling for excuses. Jungwon clearly doesn’t feel the need to provide any. “Did everything print okay?” You nod towards the small stack of papers in his hands. 

Jungwon is still looking at you. His lips part, as if he wants to say something. Brow creased, it’s as if he’s at war with himself. As if he can’t decide what to say or how to say it. 

After a beat, his mouth falls shut again. He gives a minute shake of his head. You watch as his hair sways in time with the movement. 

“Yeah,” he tells you. But he still hasn’t bothered to look down at the document between his fingers. “Everything printed fine.” 

“Okay.” You nod again. “Good.” Your voice sounds hollow in your ears. “Well, I’ll see you around, then.”

I’ll see you around?

I’ll see you around?

It takes all of your willpower not to cringe outwardly. It’s the most awkward, stilted thing you could have possibly said, but you’re not sure how else to fill the stifling silence. 

“Of course,” Jungwon nods. “Have a good day, ____.” The worst part is that he looks like he genuinely means it. “And enjoy your Friday night.”

“Right.” Your smile is feeble, doesn’t reach your eyes. “You too.” 

You’re so caught up in your own humiliation that you don’t notice the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes either. “Sure thing.”

…..

Changing your clothes in the last stall of the office bathroom kind of feels like a new low for you. But by the time Friday evening comes around, the last thing you want to do is attend a mandatory – scratch that, highly encouraged – work event at a bar still wearing your blazer and slacks. 

The jeans and sweater you replace them with are still nice by any standard, but they’ll feel a bit less stifling after a handful of drinks. 

Grace, at least, seems to have the same idea. Deciding she’s by far the most bearable person of the evening, you slide down next to her in the booth. 

Of course, that thought only makes you think of another person you’d invited. Someone whose absence feels especially notable as you nurse the remnants of your first cocktail. 

You don’t really want to get drunk tonight. You don’t want to be here at all. 

You put in your forty hours of work this week, and the only place you want to be is at home in a pair of sweatpants. 

The only person that would have made it a little more worth it made it very clear that he had better things to do. The details of which, of course, he didn’t bother to share. 

The thought spurs you to take another long sip. 

You don’t want to get drunk. But you don’t want to think about him either. 

Besides, Grace doesn’t seem to share your reservations. 

It’s barely been forty minutes when she pulls out her phone, thoroughly tipsy, and decides that you are the best person to help her sort through her list of matches on her favorite dating app. 

“He’s cute, right?” She flashes her phone screen towards you. 

He is. You nod and tell her as much. 

His eyes might not sparkle very much. And his hair might not fall perfectly over his forehead. And he might not furrow his eyebrow in concentration whenever the printer in the workroom gives him a hard time –

No. 

Tonight is not about him. He made it very clear that he had no interest in being here tonight, and the last thing you’re going to do is spend the evening fixated on him. 

Grace, at least, seems willing to help on that front. 

“Oh,” she suddenly interjects from your side. “That reminds me. I’ve been meaning to show you a picture of my friend’s brother. You know, the one I mentioned a couple of weeks ago?”

It’s a bad idea, probably. You’re still feeling slighted and bitter and no matter how many times you tell it not to, your mind keeps wandering to Jungwon. 

Despite your reluctance, the cocktails are catching up with you. There’s a pleasant, slightly numb haze in your mind. It makes resistance feel futile. 

All you do is nod, and Grace starts searching for his social media profile. It takes her a few more tries than it would sober, but she does eventually find it. 

“Here,” she says, offering her phone to you. “His name is Jay. He grew up here until he left to go to an international high school. He’s been living abroad ever since, but he recently moved back. Their dad is pretty high up at a software development company. I think he came back because he landed a job there too.” 

You do your best to absorb the information, to nod along with what she says, but in all honesty, you’re quite distracted. 

Jay is quite distracting. His feed is well-curated without being overbearing. Covered in travel photos, unbelievably flattering candid shots, and stunning nature pictures, he immediately piques your interest. 

Not to mention the fact that he’s stunning. Maybe not quite as stunning as –

No. Again, you refuse to go there. 

You’re not sure if it’s the drinks or the photos or the spite that makes it suddenly feel like a good idea, but you’re telling Grace to pass your number along to Jay before you can think better of it. 

And if nothing else, at least he doesn’t seem like the kind of person that will make you wonder. Or even wait for long. 

You’ve barely gotten home, mind mostly clear even if it is still a bit muddled from the exhaustion of a long week, when your phone screen lights up with a notification. 

It’s just a string of numbers for now, but you’re quick to create a new contact. 

Hey, the message reads. This is Jay. Grace gave me your number. I hope that’s alright!

A few seconds later, another text comes through. 

Jay: How do you feel about art exhibitions? There’s one opening this weekend right next to one of the best coffee spots in the city. I’d love for you to join me. 

It’s simple. Straightforward. Not something you’ll search for subtext or pick apart for weeks. 

And it’s easy to respond to. 

You: That sounds great! I’ll look forward to it

…..

Another week at work passes with the same monotonous, sluggish flow as any other. But this time, it’s interspersed with messages you’ve started to look forward to. 

You’ve just sat down with your third cup of coffee on Monday morning when the first one chimes through. 

Jay: Good morning, ___. I hope your Monday is off to a better start than mine. 

A second message comes through. This one is an image. One that unmistakably shows a stack of papers covered in a dark brown stain you recognize all too well. 

You: Oh no! 

Pausing for a moment, your teeth worry at your bottom lip. Deciding to go for it, you send your own picture in return. 

The image of your full coffee cup goes through, along with another message. 

You: I think it might be. My coffee is still in my cup, at least

It takes him less than a minute to respond. 

Jay: Black coffee! Oh, you mean business. I’ll deny it if you tell anyone, but I always have to add sugar and cream to mine. 

You can’t help the smile that starts to spread over your lips. Sugar and cream. An aversion to bitterness. It reminds you of someone else that always adds a little sweetness to their –

Shaking your head, you force the comparison away. Putting the other man firmly out of mind, you decide to return Jay’s lighthearted message with one of your own.

You: Don’t tell anyone, but this is my third cup of the morning. 

Jay: Third cup of straight black coffee. Whew, remind me not to get on your bad side today. 

Jay: Speaking of which, do you always drink it black or could you be persuaded into something a little sweeter? 

He’s talking about coffee, yes, but it feels just a little bit like flirting. Biting at your lip again, you decide there isn’t much to lose.

Besides, it’s kind of… fun. You can’t remember the last time you were well and truly flirted with. 

You: Depends who’s asking

Jay: Hmm

Jay: I’ll have to work on my persuasion skills then

Jay: The place I’m taking you to on Saturday has an insanely delicious caramel latte, and I need to know what you think of it

You: Tempting

You: But I’m not sure I’m convinced 

Jay: I’ll work on that, then

You can’t hide your smile this time. 

A minute later, two more texts ping through. 

Jay: Duty calls, unfortunately

Jay: The rest of my Monday is stacked, so if I am slow to respond to any messages, that’s why. Enjoy the rest of your day, ___

He’s straightforward. Communicative. You appreciate the notice. The fact that if you do send another message without a response, you won’t have to waste your day wondering why. 

You: Ugh, don’t you hate it when you actually have to work at work?

You: I hope all goes well! Enjoy the rest of your day too, Jay

Setting your phone down, you return your gaze to your computer screen and unfortunately very full inbox. 

Your focus, however, remains half-occupied by a message thread sitting dormant on your tucked away phone. 

…..

Jay’s messages begin to become a highlight of your work day. Despite the fact that there’s often a large lapse in time due to both of your busy schedules, you start to anticipate every text he manages to send. 

And they only serve to build more excitement around your upcoming date. 

By the time Thursday comes around, you’ve all but mentally clocked out for the week. Refilling your water bottle in the staff kitchen, your mind is so occupied that you almost run right into the person coming through the door the same time you’re leaving. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was–”

“___.” The sound of your name stops you in your tracks. “Breathe,” Jungwon is smiling, but there’s a hint of concern there, too. “You’re okay.”

“Jungwon,” you exhale. Your frantic apology begins to subside, replaced by an overwhelming surge of self-consciousness as you tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

You haven’t spoken to him, haven’t even seen him, since he rejected your invitation last Friday. 

He’s not trying to pick at old wounds, but it still stings a bit when he asks, “How was Friday?”

“Oh, you know,” you shrug, “It was a typical work gathering.” Then again, it occurs to you that he might not know. Since he never bothers attending any of them. 

Not that it really matters. Besides, you’re lying a bit anyway. Typical work gatherings don’t usually end with you setting up a date. Not that you want Jungwon to know about that either. 

You can't pinpoint exactly why, but the thought of him knowing doesn’t sit with you quite right. Besides, it’s not like he’s ever shown any interest in your personal life, anyway. He would find it weird, most likely. Annoying, if you were to divulge any details. 

“Oh, well, I’m sorry again that I couldn’t come.” Just like that day in the workroom, he reaches back to scratch at his neck. You have the distinct sense that he’s the one who suddenly feels a bit awkward. “Friday nights are…” he trails off, “Friday nights are hard for me, usually. I’m always pretty free on Saturday mornings, thought, so if–”

“Don’t worry about it.” Oh god. Your intention certainly wasn’t to make him feel guilty for having a social life outside of the office. Suddenly worried that you read the situation all wrong, you’re quick to assure him, “You don’t have to come to anything that you don’t want to. And especially if you have plans already. I just asked you because my supervisor wanted us to invite people from other departments.”

If his face falls slightly, you’re too caught up in your own rambling to notice. 

“And, you know,” you continue, “since you helped me that day with the printer.” 

“The printer,” he echoes, voice suddenly hollow. “Right.”

“Right,” you echo. The room falls into silence again, and this time, it’s weighted with a horrible awkwardness neither of you can shake. 

“Well,” you finally say, holding up your bottle. “I got my water, so I’m gonna head back to my desk.”

“Yeah,” Jungwon nods. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you around?” It’s just as stilted as it was before, but you’re desperate for any way to exit this conversation. 

“Yeah,” Jungwon repeats. “Sure thing, ___.”

…..

By the time Saturday morning comes, you’re a mess of anticipation and frayed nerves. 

You’re early to arrive at the address of the coffee shop Jay sent you a few nights ago, but he’s already there waiting for you. And his social media might have painted an impressive picture, but one look tells you that it still doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing. 

Jay is gorgeous.

Almost as gorgeous as –

You kill the thought as soon as it comes. This day isn’t about him, and comparisons will do you little good. 

Instead, you refocus on your date. 

He’s polished and put together in an effortless sort of way. The kind of person that you see once in passing and then can’t stop thinking about for the rest of the week. His features are angular, sharp. But they soften into a warm smile the second he lays eyes on you. 

In the end, it doesn’t take him much convincing at all to persuade you to try the caramel latte. And he’s right. It is absolutely delicious.  

It was easy to fall into a natural rhythm over text, and your face-to-face conversation flows even better. 

He tells you about life abroad and all of his favorite parts of living in another country. He tells you about his family and what he missed most about this city he’s learning to call home again. 

He listens, actively, while you tell him the more mundane details of your own life. His questions are well-timed and never feel like interruptions. 

His kindness doesn’t feel like a facade. His interest doesn’t feel like a cheap trick to get what he wants from you and then disappear without a word. 

And when it becomes painfully apparent at the art exhibition that he’s far more well-versed in the subject than you, he doesn’t make you feel stupid. Instead, he takes his time explaining each piece. Highlights the aspects that would be most interesting to someone without any kind of background in art. 

He’s kind, considerate, and the day passes by in a blur of fleeting glances and shy smiles. At the end of it, he offers to drive you home and opens your car door for you. Small gestures that make you feel seen, considered. Valued. 

When he says goodbye with a hug that doesn’t last nearly long enough, the smell of his cologne is something you hope will linger as long as the memories of the day do. 

It’s easy, you think, as you watch his car drive away from your window. Jay is someone that’s easy to be around, to spend time with. 

And when he messages you later that night, reiterating his enjoyment of the day and asking to meet again, he’s easy to say yes to. 

…..

You’re not sure how, but the only person that seems even more excited than you about you and Jay is Grace. 

Despite the fact that your communication as of late hasn’t involved anything scandalous, she feels the need to rehash every detail until she’s heard it one hundred times. 

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell her that the last text message he sent you wasn’t anything to swoon over. In fact, it was rather short and unexciting. 

Jay: Have you seen my ring by chance? I remember wearing it that day I was in your car, and I haven’t been able to find it since then. 

But Grace won’t hear it. You’re not exactly sure what she heard from Jay’s sister, but she spends the rest of the coming week hounding you over the details regardless. 

The staff kitchen is hardly the place for conversations about your personal life, but the setting doesn’t seem to bother her at all. Instead, she pretends to be busy washing an already clean coffee mug while she asks again, “So you went out for the first time last Saturday, right?”

“Mhm,” you nod. 

“And then you got dinner together Wednesday night after work?”

“Yep.” You’re pretty sure she’s already asked the same question at least six times. 

“And he’s planning to take you out again this Saturday?”

“Right.”

“My god, you two are practically married.” She punctuates the absurd claim with a wistful sigh. 

“We most certainly are not.” 

“Okay, but you literally just met, and you’ve already seen each other twice with plans for a third.”

She does have a point there. Never mind the fact that you haven’t dated anyone in a while. It is a quick timeline, no matter how you look at it. But you’ve been itching to spend time with him ever since your first date, and Jay seems to be on the same page. 

It feels fast, yes, but it doesn’t feel forced. For you, that’s what matters most. 

That, along with the fact that a certain someone has been noticeably absent from your mind the more time you spend with him. For now, you’ll choose not to read too much into that. 

“God,” Grace sighs again. “I miss going on dates.”

“What are you talking about? Didn’t you go on one a couple weeks ago?” You distinctly remember helping her set it up that night at the bar after work.

“Well, yeah, but I mean good dates. You know, getting properly wined and dined and all that. I guess I’ll just have to live vicariously through you.” 

“We went to dinner once, and there was hardly any wine involved.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. All I’m saying is you’re lucky to be seeing someone that actually puts in effort for your dates and doesn’t just take you to the closest bar to his office and hope that buying you a handful of drinks means he’ll get lucky.” Pausing for a moment, she looks up, eyes landing somewhere just over your shoulder. “Right, Jungwon?”

Immediately, it’s as if you’ve been submerged in ice cold water. Because there’s no way she said–

“Jungwon?” Turning around, you’re put face to face with the last person you wanted to overhear this particular conversation. 

“Hey, ___.” There’s a smile on his lips. Small as always, but something feels wrong about it. “Grace,” he nods at the girl over your shoulder. “Sorry,” he’s still looking at her, “were you asking me something?”

“No, we were just leaving, actua–”

Grace pays you no attention. “Just telling ___ how lucky she is that her man actually puts effort into their dates, since it feels like such a rarity these days.”

“He is not my man.” The glare you send your coworker is lost as Jungwon turns back to you, eyes wide, gaze indecipherable. 

“You’re dating someone?”

“I…” The easy, most available answer is yes, but you’re having a hard time getting it out. And there are other semantics involved. 

Are you dating? Not really. That usually indicates some kind of commitment, exclusivity. Going on dates might be a better way to put it. But clarifying that miniscule distinction for Jungwon feels strange for some reason. 

“My friend’s brother,” Grace supplies unhelpfully from the corner. “What can I say? I’m a natural born matchmaker.” Her proud smile is lost on the both of you. You’re only looking at each other. 

“Oh.” Jungwon’s voice is small, hollow. “That’s nice. I’m happy for you.”

You want to scream, just a little bit. Or maybe cry. You can’t make up your mind. 

And you’re not sure where it comes from, the sudden, overwhelming surge of guilt that begins to build in your gut. You can’t even decipher who it’s directed towards. Towards Jungwon? Towards Jay? Towards yourself? 

Grace, despite her self-proclaimed talent for setting up dates, is apparently incredibly inept at reading the room. With no prompting but her own, she’s pushing forward. “He lived abroad for a while and just moved back to the city, which is like, the perfect scenario for going on dates. And he’s always had a flair for romance. I remember–”

“Well,” you interrupt, desperate for an out, “we better get back to the project we were working on—“

“What project?” Grace, it would seem, is determined to be anything but helpful.

“You know,” you glare at her, “our project.”

“Right!” She looks sheepish, finally catching the hint. “That project.”

Turning back to Jungwon, you can still see the rigidity of his features. The tension that has yet to ease. “I’ll…” you’re not sure how to part ways now without making things worse. But it feels wrong to just leave without saying anything. For the third time in the span of days, you tell him, “I’ll see you around.”

And for the third time, he agrees, “Yeah.” This time, however, his eyes still flickering with annoyance, shoulders still set with residual frustration. “Sure thing, ___.”

It’s what he always says, you realize. But this time, it’s missing that easygoing, genuine lightness he usually says it with. 

This time, it sounds like rejection.

Yours or his, you’re not entirely sure.

…..

You manage to avoid Jungwon for the rest of the week. It’s ironic, almost. You were so worried about pursuing a potential relationship with him because you wanted to avoid this exact scenario. 

Now, a handful of dates with someone who is very much not him tucked under your belt, you still feel the need to turn and walk the other direction whenever you think you hear his voice or get a glimpse of blonde hair. 

But the office is only so big, and there are only so many corners to duck into. Barely a week has passed the next time you unwittingly bump into him. 

“Oh,” you startle slightly, walking into the workroom and already finding it occupied. And of course you’d run into him here, of all places. Kneeling in front of the printer, his brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries to dislodge yet another paper jam. 

“Sorry.” You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for exactly, but it feels warranted regardless. “I’ll just leave, and—”

“___,” he cuts you off with the sound of your name. Looking down at him, you're met with the expanse of his back. A button down shirt tucked into dark pants. Standard work attire that has no business looking this ridiculously good on anyone. “You’re fine. You don’t need to leave. Just give me a second, and the printer’s all yours.” 

You nod, even though he can’t see you. If the lack of a verbal response bothers him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he busies himself with the jammed printer, muscles of his back flexing slightly underneath the fabric of his shirt as he tugs at the stubborn papers. 

Cheeks heating slightly, you force your gaze elsewhere. 

“There,” he says after another minute of adjustments. Standing to full height, he turns to face you. “All fixed.”

Looking up at him, you’re about to offer a quiet thanks when your eyes land on his right cheekbone. Specifically, the fresh cut that spans the length of it. 

The gasp the spills from your lips is entirely without permission. But you can’t quite help it. The wound is quite superficial, surface level at most, but it mars his otherwise perfect skin in a way you weren’t prepared for. 

Without your permission, your fingers start to reach towards the injury. They make it halfway before you remember yourself, before you regain your sense of reality. Your hand falls limply back to your side. 

“What happened?” You breathe. 

Jungwon’s brows draw together in confusion for a moment before a flicker of realization dances across his features. 

“Oh.” He exhales, fingers tapping against the broken skin of his cheekbone lightly. “Nothing. I just, er, fell the other day.”

“You fell,” you echo. Like all of his other excuses, it’s vague. Flimsy at best. 

“Yeah,” he confirms with a slight nod. Again, he says, “I fell.”

It’s evasive. And it feels like more than just an explanation for his injury. 

It feels like confirmation of the distance between the two of you. His final assertion that you’re nothing but a coworker to him. Someone that he tells edited versions of stories to, someone that he keeps firmly planted an arm’s length away. 

Fine. If he wants to give you shitty excuses for his Friday nights and his absences at work events and now his injury that very obviously did not come from a fall, that’s just fine with you. 

After all, he’s nothing but a coworker to you either. The upcoming date you have planned with Jay is enough to prove it. 

“Well,” you tell him, forcing a smile. The fake, disproportionately bright kind that you only ever use with your coworkers. “I hope it heals quickly.”

And then you’re brushing past him, making your way towards the printer as if he’s nothing but an obstacle in your path. 

Collecting your freshly printed document, you turn and walk out the door without so much as a backward glance. 

…..

Sliding into the passenger seat of Jay’s car Thursday evening, you feel the stress melting from your shoulders the second the door shuts behind you. 

This is something else he makes easy: forgetting about whatever woes you managed to acquire after a long day of work. Jay just smiles as you sit down next to him, turning down the volume on the radio as he asks about your day. 

Tonight, the two of you are headed to one of your favorite diners. Somewhere where you can chat and laugh and relax over a pile of french fries and obnoxiously gaudy decor. 

But before you turn down the street that leads to the restaurant, Jay asks if the two of you can make a quick stop. 

“I left my bag at the gym last night,” he explains apologetically. “Do you mind if I swing by and grab it real quick? It’s on our way.”

You reassure him that it’s no problem, and a handful of minutes later, the two of you are parked outside of a rather nondescript, faded building. 

Frowning slightly, your eyebrow quirks up in surprise. Although he hasn’t outright disclosed anything, from what you’ve gathered so far, Jay’s family is quite well off. The kind that pays for expensive memberships at bougie gyms with saunas and swimming pools. Not the kind that frequents dark, run down gyms in the middle of a random residential area. 

Pulling his key from the ignition, Jay turns to you. “You can wait here, if you want.”

“That’s okay.” You’re already unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’m tired of sitting, anyway.” You really are. Plus, you have to admit that you’re kind of curious. 

You fall into step at his side as the two of you make your way towards the building. The closer you get, the more decrepit it appears. Paint is peeling from the exterior, leaving it an odd, mottled brown color riddled with rust marks. 

Even the sign, Kang’s Gym, is small, faded, and only visible once you’re nearly to the entrance. 

Jay steps in front of you, holding the door open for you to enter. 

The inside, you realize as you step in, is in no better shape than the outside. The wall closest to you is lined with weightlifting equipment that looks as if it were pulled from past decades. 

Padding is torn in places, and questionable stains cover the place, accumulated from years of use. 

You’re about to ask him outright why on earth he patronizes such a run down place when your eyes land on the far wall of the gym. There, you think you find your answer. 

There’s no weightlifting equipment or cardio machines. Instead, the majority of available space is filled with several sets of boxing rings. Like the rest of the gym, they’re equally faded and worn with years of use. 

But the lighting in that part of the gym is noticeably better. Far brighter, more intentional. As if the rest of the gym is just for show and that is the true purpose of this building. 

You’re suddenly overcome with the urge to take a second glance at your date. 

He has a lean, athletic build, yes. The kind that you assumed came from some kind of regular exercise regiment and not his office job. 

But boxing wasn’t exactly what you expected. 

Jay turns to you. His expression gives nothing away, holds no indication that this is anything out of the ordinary for him. “I think I left it over by the locker rooms.” 

Encasing your hand in his, he leads you towards the rings. Several of them are occupied, mostly by one-on-one sparring matches. 

Walking past the first one, the two men inside the ring turn to look at you and Jay as you pass. 

“Hey, man,” the first one offers with a nod of recognition that Jay returns. As his eyes slide over to you, they widen slightly in surprise. Gaze falling to your intertwined hands, the man just shakes his head slightly before returning to his sparring partner. 

Moving past them, you shake the odd interaction from your mind. 

You spare fleeting glances for the rest of the people you pass. For a moment, you try to imagine Jay in the ring instead of them. It’s an odd contradiction with what you’ve come to associate with him. 

Easygoing. Considerate. Even tempered. They’re traits that feel at odds with the kind of stark physicality required in a boxing ring. 

Then again, the more you consider it, the more you start to make sense of it. Jay is all of those things, yes, but there’s also an undercurrent of something else. 

A quiet intensity he carries with him. Something he has control over. Something he can channel when needed. 

The more you think about it, the easier it is to picture him in the ring, throwing precise, calculated punches until victory rests on his square shoulders. 

You’d be lying if you said the mental image didn’t pique your interest. You’re about to ask him if he’ll let you watch next time he’s in the ring when a flash of color in the last boxing ring, the one closest to the locker rooms, catches your attention. 

It’s unlikely. It feels impossible. Even more so than the thought of Jay in a boxing ring. But as you draw closer, you confirm your suspicions. 

After all, you would know that shade of blonde anywhere. 

It takes everything in you not to stop dead in your tracks. But even as you continue forward, hand still encased in Jay’s, your eyes are trained solely on the space between Jungwon’s broad shoulders. 

It’s almost inhuman, the feline agility that he moves with. He’s smaller than his opponent, but he’s faster. Lighter on his feet. 

The punches he throws are dizzyingly accurate, and his sparring partner seems to think the same. A muted thud is followed by a string of expletives that become more clear the closer you get. 

“Jesus, Jungwon.” The man across from him is still a bit breathless as he recovers from having the wind knocked out of him. “Bad week at work or something?”

“C’mon, Heeseung.” It doesn’t sound anything like the Jungwon you know. Gone is the quiet friendliness you’ve always heard from him. His voice is still gentle, but it carries an unmistakable command. “Stop going easy.”

“I’m not,” the other man – Heeseung – argues. “What has gotten into you? It’s like you’ve been insane since that match last week.” 

“Whatever,” Jungwon scoffs, shaking his head. “Let’s just take five.” 

“Make it ten,” Heeseung goads across from him. 

Jungwon sends him a warning glare, but says nothing. Instead, he reaches for his water bottle at the corner of the ring, leaning against the ropes that enclose it. 

All you can do is watch, suddenly fascinated by the way sweat darkens his hair, trails down the length of his neck. Jungwon gives a quick shake of his head, sending his hair scattering over his forehead as he leans further into the ropes behind him.

Tipping his head back, his throat works against a swallow as he takes a long drink from his water bottle. 

Jungwon sets his water bottle down, turning towards Heeseung like he’s about to say something else when movement catches his attention. 

More specifically, your movement. His eyes fall on you, and for a moment, you’re rendered just as immobile as him. His gaze widens in recognition and then suddenly, he’s standing. 

Long strides eat up the length of the boxing ring as he crosses it, every step bringing him closer to you. With a distinct sort of grace and practiced ease, he jumps over the side of the ring, landing on his feet just as you and Jay pass him. 

With a hand on your shoulder, he stops you both in your tracks. His touch is gentle, but commanding. It leaves little room for argument. 

“This is the guy you’ve been seeing?” Jungwon’s eyes are molten lava. If you thought that day in the staff kitchen was the most visible emotion he was capable of mustering, you were sorely mistaken. The Jungwon that stands in front of you now is simmering with it, vibrating with barely contained emotions. 

At your side, Jay turns back. With your hand still enclosed in his, Jay’s gaze goes straight towards Jungwon’s hand on your shoulder. 

“Jungwon,” he nods coolly. 

Jungwon ignores him entirely. His gaze is still trained directly on you. 

Glancing between the both of them, the tension between them is palpable. Over Jungwon’s shoulder, you can see Heeseung leaning against the edge of the boxing ring as if he can’t decide whether to intervene or not. 

“Well,” you say, attempting to diffuse a bit of the rising animosity, “I guess I don’t need to introduce the two of you, then.”

This time, it’s you that Jungwon ignores. Turning to Jay, he’s all venom. “And you brought her here? What the hell are you doing?”

“Relax, man.” Jay rolls his eyes. “We’re just grabbing my bag.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you left here,” he bites. “You know better than to–”

Shaking his hand off your shoulder, annoyance makes itself visible across your features. It’s one thing for Jungwon to be pissy towards your date, but it’s another entirely for him to assume that you can’t handle something as mundane as a boxing gym. 

And if you're honest, the whole overprotective act just rubs you the wrong way. Why does he think he gets to ignore you all week at work and then act like he knows what’s in your best interest?

“I think I can handle watching people throw a few punches, Jungwon.” Your voice is all ice, and it changes his demeanor immediately. The anger begins to dissipate, leaving him with wide eyes that beg for your understanding. 

The frustration is still there, though. “That’s not what I meant, ___.”

“I don’t really care what you meant.” You’re not sure if it’s true, but you want it to be. For now, that’s enough. “Why don’t you go back to your friend and pretend like you never saw me. You’re good at that, right?”

It’s a low blow. And it has his features falling immediately, eyebrows slackening as if you’ve slapped him. 

His voice is notably gentler when he says your name. “___…”

This time, it’s Jay that speaks. “I suggest you listen to her, man. We’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Jungwon wants to say more. You can see it in the way his mouth twitches, in the way his shoulders still rise with tension. Finally, he relaxes. Just a fraction of an inch, but you know it’s over. At least for now. 

He doesn’t say anything, but he does take a step back. And then another. 

His eyes are still on you, even as Jay keeps walking, pulling you gently along with him. 

By the time he finds his bag and the two of you make your way back out, Jungwon is nowhere to be found. 

You can still feel eyes on you, though. 

This time, it’s Heeseung’s gaze that follows you all the way out the door. 

Back in Jay’s passenger seat, you turn towards your date, a million questions swimming in your mind. 

“What on earth was that all about?”

Jay just frowns, knuckles white against the steering wheel. Instead of answering, he asks a question of his own. “How do you know him?”

“What?” Too confused to protest, you answer. “We work together.” Then you repeat, “What’s going on?”

Jay sighs, leans his head back against his seat. “He’s in marketing with you?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Programming. I don’t want to ask you again.” This time, you can’t help the expletive. “What the fuck was that?”

“We…” Jay trails off, searching for an explanation. “We know each other.”

“Yeah, no shit. How?”

“We went to the same middle school, before I left for high school. He was a year behind me.”

“And what?” You ask, trying to think of what kind of feud middle schoolers could possibly have that would warrant tonight’s interaction. “He stole your lunch money and you never got over it?”

“Not quite.” His lips are tight. “Look, ___. I know you can’t help who you work with, but Jungwon… he’s not who you think he is.”

“And you are?”

Jay turns to you, hurt clearly written across his features. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” you argue, doubling down. “What’s not fair is giving me vague half truths about my coworker and expecting me to just agree blindly while you evade all of my questions.” A moment of silence passes. Jay says nothing. Finally, you tell him, “If you’re not going to be honest with me, then I think you should just take me home.”

“Wait, ___–”

“I’m serious, Jay. I’m not about to go have dinner with you and pretend that this didn't just happen. Just take me home.” Softening a bit at the obvious distress on his face, you add a quiet, “Please.”

You won’t compromise your boundaries, but you don’t have it in you to be needlessly cruel, even if his evasiveness bothers you to no end. 

Jay just sighs, pulling into an empty parking lot before turning around and heading in the opposite direction. Towards your apartment. 

The rest of the car ride passes in stilted silence, neither of you willing to break it. 

Jay is the first one to speak, but it’s not until you’re sliding out of his passenger seat, back turned towards him. 

“Good night, ___.”

For a moment, you consider just ignoring him. But it feels petty, even for these circumstances. For now, you’ll just have to trust that he needs time to find a way to tell you the truth. 

“Good night,” you tell him. But you still don’t look back.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

READ PART TWO HERE

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: I AM SO ANNOYEDDDDD this was all supposed to be one long fic, not two parts, but tumblr's post block limit got me. Honestly I don't know how I avoided it this long. Anyway the second part is written and will be posted soon. In the meantime, let me know what you're thinking so far! As always, thank you for reading ♡

[4vanaa]

WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING, rafe cameron, 05

summary: y/n left the outer banks years ago, determined to build a life far from the memories of her childhood love, rafe cameron. now a botanist, she's moved on-though a quiet part of her still clings to the past. when an event brings her back to OBX, she's forced to confront the one person she never truly forgot.

cw: mature language | masterlist | 04 | 06 |

yourusername 4h

liked by miaroan, rafecameron and 48 others

yourusername i’m a bridesmaid !!!

sarahcameron the most perfect bridesmaid

johnbroutledge the most perfect bride

yourusername no flirting in my comments 🙅‍♀️

miaroan ugh can this wedding come faster, i need to get drunk again

yourusername girl you got drunk last night

miaroan i want to do it again

kiecarrera omg we’re so cute

jjmaybank i’m cuter

cleo well no !

sarahcameron wedding festivities can officially commence

cleo finally

jjmaybank all thanks to me, really helped john b out

popeheyward well no!

user aww couple goals ^^ 😏

cleo mama your wedding behind you 💜

miaroan 🤣🤣

sarah’s phone

rafecameron 1h

liked by gracieabrams, yourusername, and 678,000 others

rafecameron been working on something special. sunshine is yours 12.13

view all comments

rafesreverie claiming 🙏🙏

user okay now release an album

sarahcameron sunshine 🧐

rafecameron reflecting on my love for the sun

topperthornton oh totally

kelce2fye definitely sounds right

rafesmuse already soty

jjmaybank oh yes my sunshine too has a face

rafecameron ur going to be blocked soon

rafeupdates come release this 🐱next

user bro you’re gonna make him limit the comments again

blonded excited to listen

user frank release please 🙏

a/n: it’s getting better, just bear with me please 🙏 ahh i love gracie, wonder what she’s doing there 🧐🧐

tags: @xoxo-ada @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

[red-archivist]

TMAGP 23 SPOILERS!

i heard those lines and was immediately inspired to make something sad lol

~

Twenty years ago, Jonathan Sims quits smoking.

Twenty years ago, Martin Blackwood’s mother survives her second stroke.

Twenty years ago, Jonathan Sims quits smoking.

It’s not enough to just stop, the shakes and the headaches nip at him constantly, and he reluctantly concludes that bad habits need to replaced by better ones.

That’s where the cycling comes in, to start with.

It’s exercise, it’s eco-friendly, and he can pretend he is literally leaving his cravings behind him as he pushes hard on the pedals.

He does his homework first, researching what is the best option for city cycling, for his budget, for someone that hasn’t ridden a bike since they were nine.

He plots out his paths to the office, the shops, and the nearest puncture repair centre, just in case. He even makes a spreadsheet to keep track of them.

He is sure Tim would poke fun at him for it, if they were still talking, but the organisation keeps his twitching fingers busy and his roaming mind away from the half-finished box of cigarettes in his desk drawer that he promises he will throw away any day now.

What all that planning fails to account for, as soon as he actually gets onto the road, is the rest of the world moving around him.

Every stereotype he has heard about antagonistic drivers is proven ten-fold as he dodges swerving cars and gets sworn at for whizzing past stalled traffic. He soon learns to sneer through tinted windows.

Pedestrians are almost worse. They seem blind to him, stepping out directly in front of his wheels and making him wobble as he overcorrects. As if a bike can’t still do some damage if he were to actually hit someone. Once, he clips the edge of a pram and stops in the street to shout some sense into the careless father pushing it.

He bitches openly about this during his lunches and his coworkers only roll their eyes at him sometimes.

The cycling becomes a bit of running joke in the office when they spot him coming in with his bike shorts and change of outfit, but he ignores them. The shorts are practical. For some reason, telling them that only makes them laugh harder.

He takes the fastest route into the office and a scenic one home. It winds through quiet well-off estates, before opening out to one of the less well-known urban parks. It’s calming, almost meditative, to roll through the cool shade the cluttered trees offer after another meaningless day of data entry.

In those times, he doesn’t think of his empty flat or his dead-end job, he forgets his sniggering coworkers and his ever-dwindling contact list. It’s just him and the wind.

The only thing that could make those moments better, he admits to himself, is a smoke.

The problem with this particular path is how hard it is to see around corners in the park. There is some national re-wilding initiative in the works and the foliage looms over the roads in a way that block his line of sight.

He checks every turn, even though it is rare to encounter a car in this area. Better safe than sorry.

The night he dies is warm but overcast.

He follows his usual route and cranes his neck to see around the overgrown corner he is approaching. A drooping branch grazes his head and something falls from the tree onto his neck.

It could be a leaf, or a twig, or a ladybird, but Jon feels the whisper-touch of something small at his throat and his only thought is: spider.

He has been afraid of them since he was very young and terrified instinct immediately beats any reason. One hand flies up from the handlebars to bat away at his collar. He swerves. Fear makes him pedal faster and the bike speeds onto the junction.

He is so scared of the potential at his throat that he never even sees the delivery truck.

The bike is sent flying from the impact, Jon falls under the wheels.

The driver, to his credit, calls emergency services immediately, distraught.

The ambulance is there within five minutes, but they needn’t have bothered. Jon is declared dead at the scene with a broken neck.

What few friends he has left comfort each other with that fact.

At least it was quick.

~

Twenty years ago, Martin Blackwood’s mother survives her second stroke.

This is a good thing, Martin reminds himself, more than once. It is Good that his mother is alive.

It doesn’t matter that the nurses need to attend to her around-the-clock now. It doesn’t matter that the care home bills have skyrocketed. He is grateful that she is still with him.

He starts looking for a third job. The admin work during the day and the shelf-stocking at night barely covered his previous bills. He’ll have to look for some flexible positions to cram into his schedule.

In the meantime, he cuts back. Eats cheaply, eats less. Cancels overdue check-ups and doesn’t touch the heating.

His days are a current of constant worry, occasionally breached by a wave of panic that he tries to quell by hiding in the office bathroom and digging his nails into his legs.

Panic won’t pay the rent or keep the lights on or remember to call Mum every Sunday. He smothers it deep in his chest and ignores the spasm of pain he gets whenever he forces it down.

He has been getting those more often; sharp, sudden chest pains, numb fingers, dizzy spells, an aching back, shortness of breath.

He had been going to ask the doctor about it all before he cancelled the appointment but. Well. Needs must.

He has his first heart attack on the evening shift.

Pulling a box of washing up tablets from the top shelf in Aisle 4 causes such a rush of agony in his chest that he dares to ask the manager to take his 15-minute break early.

He doesn’t make it to the back room before he collapses.

In the hospital, after he wakes, the doctors ask if there is a family history of heart problems.

If he didn’t feel so weak he would laugh.

He has more in common with his mother then he likes to admit. Of course they share a bad heart.

Or maybe it came from his father. Mum always said he was heartless. Maybe there’s a hole where Dad’s DNA should be.

When the medical team leaves him to rest, all he can think is how much this will cost him.

The NHS is no charity no matter what their marketing says, not to mention how much money he will lose by recovering. He can’t afford six weeks of not working. His first job doesn’t have that much sick leave and his second doesn’t have any.

He runs the numbers in his head, tries to find what else he can hack out of his life to keep his head above water. Occasionally his thoughts swerve, self-recriminating and barbed. He is so stupid for letting this happen at all.

It’s all his fault.

Mum is going to be so angry with him.

His heart pulses in keen pain, bitter and broken.

Somehow, he drifts off, counting figures instead of sheep.

The second heart attack kills him in his sleep.

~

They die on the same day, at nearly the same time (Jon rushes ahead, always too eager, Martin follows inevitably after him).

Their death certificates are filed away alphabetically by a bored clerk in the dusty management system of the General Register Office.

Twenty years later, Samama Khalid exhumes them and examines them, with more curiosity than sense, only to be disappointed by the mundanity of their ends.

He returns them together, heedless of any organisation.

Jon and Martin meet, in the quiet and the dark.

The filing cabinet is a shared headstone, their names rest side-by-side.

~

Also on AO3

[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!

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Hello hello! I was just reading through your account and saw the ask of some hsr characters being the big spoon, so I was wondering if you wouldn't mind doing hsr characters being the little spoon? I was thinking characters like, Silver Wolf, Asta, Acheron and Firefly, if that's ok with you.

Have a good one!

(H:SR) Silver Wolf, Asta, Acheron, Firefly, Feixiao, Qingque, Serval, and Tingyun being asked to be the small spoon

(Silver Wolf) "'Kay."

Silver Wolf doesn't get flustered nor does she really hesitate to let S/O hold her.

As long as they don't block her arms and hands from moving and to keep playing her game, it's good.

It's a nice feeling, sure, but she's too busy grinding.

For in the grim darkness of the far future, there is only material grinding.

(Silver Wolf) "...What? Turn down the brightness? Hang on, just need to see in this cave for a second-"

(Asta) "A-Alright, go ahead!"

Asta feels honestly a little giddy being held by her S/O.

She isn't particularly shy with her affection, but to be in such an intimate space never failed to get her heart beating faster.

Asta takes a deep breath before exhaling, snuggling into S/O's chest and hugging them back.

For now, she doesn't have to worry about work, she can just decompress with their arms around her.

(Asta) "...Do you think we need to buy a new blanket? This one feels a little too thin-...N-No need? Hm. True, this would be our third blanket.-"

(Acheron) "...You may hold me if you wish."

Acheron takes a second to adjust in their hold. Normally, she was the one holding S/O.

She wasn't entirely 100% positive at first if she liked it, but with how quickly her body relaxed she figured she could learn to.

Regardless, it's something she will start to treasure, any time spent with her beloved is time well spent.

Acheron's face is unmoving until S/O's hand brushes the back of her head, holding her gently yet firmly.

(Acheron) "Is your hand stroking my hair?...No, it is not unpleasant, it's quite nice, actually..."

(Firefly) "If you don't mind...!"

Well, Firefly doesn't really need sleep that much, but she'll never pass an up an opportunity to snuggle!

As much as she enjoyed being the big spoon for S/O sometimes, she could not deny how nice it felt for someone to care for her like this.

Even if it was something small like cuddling, it still meant a lot to Firefly.

Firefly's smile is ear to ear, accompanied by a light blush as she holds S/O back, her head underneath their chin.

(Firefly) "Dream well, S/O..."

(Feixiao) "Hm, alright, guess I could!"

Feixiao as the little spoon? Now that was a novel experience!

It felt absolutely divine to her to be held by S/O like this, as well as very strange.

Usually her strong arms would be holding S/O, sober or otherwise but she could get used to this!...Probably!

Her Foxian ears droop ever so slightly as she smiles, leaning into S/O's touch as their hand caressed her face.

(Feixiao) "Just don't blame me if you wake up when I do! With your arms around me it'll be kinda hard to get out."

(Qingque) "...Is that some kind of joke, S/O?!"

As if Qingque wasn't always the little spoon anyway!

Pouting, she'll just sigh before letting S/O hold her tightly, blushing.

It takes only a few seconds for her attitude to soften, simply yawning and ready to fall asleep.

Even if the hardest thing she did today was play a few games at work.

(Qingque) "...Why am I yawning? I'll have you know I do work from time to time you know!...STOP LAUGHING!"

(Serval) "Change of pace, huh? Sure!"

Serval doesn't hesitate, at least not until S/O holds her closer, making her blush.

She fiddles with her fingers for a brief moment before shifting their arms around her stomach, allowing her to move her head backwards into them.

Serval closes her eyes with a wide smile, already feeling comfortable.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

(Serval) "Hm, you're really comfy too, S/O..."

(Tingyun) "Mind the tail!"

Tingyun giggles at their request, but promptly settles in after doing the proper care for her tail, making sure that S/O can't mess with it during their sleep.

But afterwards, Tingyun happily lets herself be held by S/O.

After a long day, nothing is better than being held coming home. Well, maybe that and a promotion.

But she probably shouldn't complain.

(Tingyun) "Good night, S/O!~...Hm? What about my ears?...Alright, a little touching is fine, but don't mess it up too bad!"

[episodone]

HAIR TIE

SYNOPSIS: It was a heated day back in Coruscant and your body was starting to give up. With your long hair making the situation worse, Anakin decides to be of help.

PAIRING: rots!anakin x fem!reader ( implied )

CONTENT WARNING: established relationship, a bit of swearing, teasing, a whole lot of fluff, reader is implied to have long hair, anaking being a bit suggestive but nothing major

WORD COUNT: 857 ( i think … )

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi everyone!! wow … here’s my first ever work on this account ? this is a special moment for me, okay !! anyways, i really hope you all enjoy whatever this turns out to be! this is also my first time writing properly with upper case letters so this is weird to me .. also please excuse any mistakes ! this was written by a very sleepy lily …

star wars masterlist

You had experienced long hot days before, but never something quite like this one. The heat was insufferable back in Coruscant, and as much as you would love to complain about it, you couldn’t. The Jedi Temple was nice enough for having a cooling down system for all of the Jedi’s inside to enjoy, and it seemed to be working for everyone, except for you.

Training was getting harder for your body. You could feel sweat drops running down your face and you muscles wanting to give up due to the temperature. You felt vulnerable, which wasn’t usual of you. Even your Padawan was giving you weird looks from time to time, but you decided to brush them off. For all that matters, your Jedi robes and cloak weren’t helping, either.

You weren’t one to back down on your trainings, and you wanted to persist in the duel against your Padawan, trying to give them as much knowledge in lightsaber fights as you possibly could. That was you purpose, after all. But enough was enough, even for you. Just as you were about to call out for a break, they were faster than you. You thanked Maker it was over and granted them to leave the room to cool down and rest and you decided to do the same yourself shortly after, running outside. While walking down the long hallway, with your heavy chest panting from the heat, a familiar voice calls out for you.

“Here’s my pretty girl.” a tall figure makes its way to your side and you look up to see Anakin, as perfect as ever. Not a single drop of sweat on his face and biggest grin ever while looking at you, like the heat doesn’t even bother him. How you envied him in that moment.

“Not here, Ani. Someone could hear you.” you look to your sides, searching for any sign of life besides you two that could compromise this moment, and Anakin watches you with a glint in his eyes.

“As far as I’m concerned, everyone is too focused on cooling down right now rather than look for forbidden couples walking around the Temple together.” you turn to him with an unamused look and playfully hit his arm as he only laughs at you.

“You should probably do the same, my love. It seems the heat is taking a toll on you.”

“Very funny, Anakin. Not everyone looks as perfect as you after a long session of training under the warmth.” You curse under you breath by how unaffected he was, with his perfect blonde locks and perfect smooth skin with no signs of tiredness. How confident he seemed when his whole body was stinging, begging for a breath of cold air.

“So you think I’m perfect?” he turns to you with a teasing smile and you scoff in response.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Skywalker.” you answer bluntly and he smiles at you, inspecting your figure.

“No hair up today?” he asks and you turn to him, clearly confused.

“What?”

“Your hair. Since it’s so hot, I thought you would put up your hair.”

Oh. That’s right. Your hair. Your forgot about that one little detail. How were supposed to manage the heat better if you hair was blocking your neck from all the cooling around? Now you know why your Padawan was giving you funny looks. What kind of person in their right minds would walk around with their hair down on an extreme heat day?

You quickly sense around your pulses for a hair tie, only to find out that you forgot about them in your dorm earlier today.

“Kriff.” you mumble. “I forgot my hair ties this morning.”

You think back to who could borrow you one for the day. A fellow female Jedi around the Temple. The one’s you didn’t know so well, unfortunately. While your mind runs through the endless options and the embarrassment that would come with you asking, you hair gets suddenly lift up.

You try to look back to see what happened but you’re stopped by Anakin, who now holds your hair with one of his hands in a makeshift ponytail.

“Wait.” his other hand sneaks around your waist, stopping you in your tracks. A sense of relief washes over you as a breath of cold hair spreads around your neck and shoulders. You instinctively close your eyes to the feeling, letting out a deep sigh. Pink tinted blush creeps up your cheeks at the thought of Anakin behind you, his lips puckered up and busy being your savior of the day. You stayed in that positions for a few second until air flow suddenly stops, making you flutter your eyes open.

“Better?” his voice makes a smile creep up your face and you shyly nod in response.

“Yeah... Thank you.” you feel his strong arm pull you closer to him as he drops sloppy kisses to the area he just cooled down, smiling between each peck.

“You should really start bringing your hair ties with you, my love.” he mumbles against your skin and you nod, savoring the moment as he was savoring your skin. “I can’t walk around like this all day.” he shakes your hair in his hand and you smile at him, a teasing glint in your eyes.

“You should start bringing them too, you know. With how long your hair is right now.” The kisses suddenly stop and you feel a hand pinching the side of your waist, making you giggle.

“Don’t make me drop your hair already.”

“Please don’t.”

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Dark!Rafe Cameron x Plus size!Reader

Word Count: 2,223

Summary: You go on vacation to work on yourself, but what if there’s a guy on the beach who just won’t let you.

Warnings: No specific warnings for this chapter. SERIES WARNINGS-> 18+‼️, dark noncon themes, rich boy Rafe doesn’t take no for an answer, infidelity, reader cheats on fiancé in future chapters, SMUT.

Masterlist

Some things never change; the sand, the water, the moon rising over the horizon. You hadn’t stepped foot in North Carolina in almost 12 years, but you counted on one thing; the beach was the same. When your family moved back home, you cried for weeks, you knew the island was where you belonged. But years passed, and you didn’t see your extended family you left behind in North Carolina, and the yearning for home became too much. So here you were, on a vacation all alone.

You left your fiancé and family back home, you wanted them to come, but they all had plans. Your fiancé couldn’t call off work in time to heed your cravings for salt water. Assuring him that you’d be okay alone, you ran as fast as the wind could take you, for as long as your bank account could handle. You needed this escape from reality, life was becoming too real, too fast; you just wanted to feel like you were floating for another week or two.

You knew what waited on you when you got back home, your fiancé, buying a house, being terrified of getting pregnant every time you have sex. You weren’t ready for children, you wanted marriage, and to spend your life with someone, but things are moving too fast and you can’t even decide if that’s what you still want with him. You got together when you were fresh out of high school, getting engaged at 20, now you’re 23 and you just don’t feel the same that you used to.

You needed space most of all, space from your fiancé. He wasn’t suffocating you or anything, it was the opposite. He was good, too good for you. He tried his best, and it wasn’t enough for you, you hated to admit it; you felt an overwhelming guilt because of it.

Your fiancé held an innocence that was ripped from you when you were a child. He gave you his all, every second of the day. You cursed yourself for complaining that there’s no romance. You don’t dare speak a word to anyone on how unfulfilled you feel, like there’s more out there waiting on you. You live with a growing guilt, one that the devil on your shoulder tells you; you shouldn’t feel at all.

You were falling out of love with him, rapidly. Not wanting to be the villain, you knew this trip might fix you; you hoped it would. That’s why you sat in the sand with your suitcase beside you. Jean shorts and tennis shoes already covered in the tan substance. It was late when you got here, you missed check in at your hotel, so you asked your Uber to drop you off at the beach close to your aunts house, you’d walk there after you had some time alone.

The sun was setting behind you on the sound, the empty beach was a stark contrast to what it had been when you were a kid. Then you heard them, a group of younger guys laughing and carrying on as they walk down the beach. You try to ignore their conversation, focusing on the sand you have your fingers dug into. You look out into the water, watching the gentle waves come in, your eyes don’t even register the three boys walk past your eye line, instantly refocusing on the dark blue mass.

You cringe as sand suddenly flies in your direction. A body landing not too far from where you’re sitting. Another body lands on top of him and starts putting him in an arm bar. “Woah.” You say hopping up, grabbing your suitcase in an attempt to move away from the situation. You might not have given them a second glance but you knew it was the group that just blocked your vision, loudly taking up their own space on the beach.

“Watch out,” The third guy yells at his friends, he looks over at you and you can’t help but notice the way your heart starts beating faster, like you were being studied under his gaze. “There was a pretty lady sitting there.”. He says it smugly, but there’s no hint of a smirk on his face. It’s deadpanned, devoid of emotion, like he’s too focused on watching you.

The two guys obviously play wrestling break apart. “Don’t make me kick your ass again.” The dark haired one says to the blond; but the blond just laughs maniacally. Deciding now would be the perfect time to head back to your aunt’s house; you start pulling your suitcase away. You didn’t wanna get caught in the crossfire of some drunk frat guys.

“You need some help?” The tall, non-wrestling blond asks. You turn around to see if he’s addressing you, only to find that same dark stare, studying you, as if he hasn’t looked away once. “I’m fine.” You rush the words out, not knowing what to say even if you did need help.

His face finally cracks, forcing a fake smile to his lips, you can tell he didn’t like the instant rejection. “You sure?” He bites back, “That suitcase looks awfully heavy.”.

You can tell this guys no good, just by the way he talks, as if you’d give in to his persuasion. You can’t lie to yourself, of course you thought he was cute. A tall lean body with ocean blue eyes and blond hair, he was a model for a surf magazine. You can’t be thinking like this, he was everything your fiancé wasn’t, and you shouldn’t be wanting his help. “Thanks, but I got it.”. You nod slowly as you say the words, trying to reassure him.

The forced smile drops from his face and he takes one last look from your feet to your eyes, raking in every detail you have to offer. He drops his chin in, only what you could call acknowledgment; before walking back to his friends that were busy dusting themselves off.

Not wanting to wait around for another awkward interaction you skip steps as you hoof it to your aunts. This was the first night of your trip and what were you doing instead of working on yourself? Letting a guy ogle you, simply because he was cute. He could’ve been anyone, a trust fund baby from New York or a firefighter on a night out with his friends. He could be the sweetest guy in the world or the devil; you don’t know yet you still gave him your time, more than enough if it.

Your thoughts are cut short when you hear quick footsteps behind you. Then a hand on your arm. Before alarm bells could ring or you could scream, that familiar voice from before speaks, making you look into the blue eyes of the once thought assailant. “You didn’t really think I’d let you walk home carrying this, alone, did you?” He asks, with a deep serious crease in his brow.

Your mouth hangs open, searching for something to say. But you’re too stunned by his actions, meekly letting go of the handle of the suitcase when he snatches it from your grasp. You would think he was being chivalrous, if he hadn’t been so rough taking it from you. “Thank you.” You mutter, walking in step with him towards your aunt’s. You couldn’t place his slight agitation. Was it really because you didn’t want him carrying your suitcase? You barely knew him, what did he expect?

You can only figure one thing, most women agree with everything he says. Most women probably would’ve been more than glad to accept his offer of help. You could see yourself appreciating it too; if you were more secure in yourself and your engagement. To be honest with yourself, you didn’t know his intentions, maybe he really is a gentleman. But you can’t trust yourself, his intimidating aura and even sharper eyes are everything you were afraid of.

You decide to not spark up a conversation, knowing it will only dig you further into a hole. One that’s bottom will collapse open and you’ll free fall to the center of the earth. He notices the distant look in your eye, how you kept a few feet away from him as you walked down the skinny pathway. “What’s your name?” He asks, and there was that agitated tone again. “*you* didn’t give me the chance to ask.” He says it like an accusation, how dare you not give him more of your time.

You can feel a swirling feeling in your gut, one of defensiveness, and then one telling you to submit, do not bite back. Since you don’t know his intentions, you decide to be the bigger person, plastering a small smile on your face. “Y/N, and you?” You mistakenly look over at him, and he’s silently mouthing your name, testing it on his tongue. He feels your gaze and breaks out of his trance. “Rafe, Rafe Cameron.” He says.

You just hum and nod your head. The way he said it, was like his name was meant to mean something; but it didn’t. His eyes looked like they were expecting some kind of reaction out of you, and when he didn’t get one you saw a slight sneer appear. When you take a sharp right turn he stands there for a second, watching you walk ahead, his brain is about to short circuit, why are you being like this? You should be hanging off of him already.

He catches up to you before you notice, his steps matching yours. “What do you have planned for your trip?” He says, changing his tone. He’s trying to play nice, see if you’d open up for him. That has you looking over at him, and even the look on his face has changed, slight wrinkles under his eyes, and a smile that would make anyone drop to the floor.

You steady your mind, looking back at the sidewalk in front of you. “Just visiting family, learning to relax.” You say honestly, you didn’t need to tell him you were here to work yourself, but you didn’t see a point in lying.

“That’s nice.” He says, but it lacked enthusiasm. Nodding your head you can’t help yourself but to ask him. “You from around here?”, there it was, the bite. The proverbial shovel was already scooping dirt out of the hole. Rafe relaxes as you carry on the conversation, not feeling like he’s talking to a brick wall anymore. “Yeah, I live on the other side of the island.” He smirks.

Oh, so he was some rich boy. “That’s nice.” You say, looking around noticing the houses get more impoverished as you walk towards your aunt’s street. He scoffs, “I guess,” and pauses and watches your hair fan over your back as you walk. “By chance are you single?” He finally asks.

That has you bristling, of course he had to ask. Somethings telling you to say yes, he wouldn’t know if you were lying, you took off your engament ring, telling your fiancé you’d lose it in the ocean. But you knew you couldn’t, the universe was crafting a punishment for you, and lying would only make it worse. “I’m engaged, actually.” You say it almost as if you’re apologizing, for the inconvenience.

You can see him visibly react, the smile falling from his lips. “I figured you wouldn’t be.” He says dejected. You knew he’d ask, and you knew you’d have to tell the truth. You never thought of what happened after, you just expected him to accept it, understand that this couldn’t go any further than a friendly gesture.

You didn’t expect him to say what he says next. “That kinda thing doesn’t bother me much.”. It has you stopping in your tracks, your aunt’s house in view. You turn to him with a puzzled look, “What?” You blink, trying to reassure yourself that is just what he said. “I said, a ring hasn’t stopped me before.” He says it with a confidence that makes you cringe internally. You could see the look in his eyes, like a snake ready to strike. You hated snakes.

“I-“ You stutter, trying to find the right words. You couldn’t even chastise him for what he said, knowing that he would only continue bantering with you, drawing you in deeper. “I have to go.” You say, grabbing your suitcase from his hands, you could feel him hold onto it, as if he’s deciding whether or not to just let you go. But as he studies your hard pressed face and nervous reaction, he feels pity for you. And he likes you too much to make you suffer, he knows he’ll see you tomorrow; he’ll make sure of it.

So he releases the handle to your grip, raising his hands up in mock defense. “Alright, alright, I get it.” He says in a cool tone. But that smirk is back on his face, “I’ll see you around.” He says taking a step backwards, but he keeps facing you, waiting for your response. You shrug, turning to put your back to him. “It’s a big island, don’t hold your breath.”. He watches you walk away with a stunned look on his face, his mouth slightly hung open.

He knew what he was doing this summer, breaking you.

•••••••••••••••

Comment to be added to the Taglist!

[matryosika]

Incoming Call

Pairing — Hyunjin x fem!reader Wordcount — 3,394 words Genre — Smut (18+) Includes — Suggestive content. Smut warnings under the cut. Author's note — This honestly came out of the blue. I was just feeling like phone sex and exhibitionism and this is what I ended up writing, haha. I hope you like it, it's just a silly little drabble in which my writer's block didn't get the best of me. I am actually proud I could come up with something, but it's not as filthy as other of my works. Please remember that english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes in advanced! If you wish to support my blog further, please reblog and comment, leave an ask and check my pinned post for my ko-fi!

Smut warnings — Dirty talk. Phone sex and exhibitionism if you squint. Masturbation (m), Hyunjin is kind of a perv but it's very very tame. Use of petnames (baby), mentions of creampies, and other sexual fantasies. Hyunjin is needy and desperate. Reader's mom interrupts the hated moment (not cool!).

Time zones. 

By far your most terrible enemies these days. 

It wasn't only the jet lag that threw you off from coming back home, but the abysmal time difference between you and your boyfriend —he goes to bed right before you wake up, and his most active time is when you are about to sleep. 

It has been a couple of days, but texting with him has been an absolute nightmare. 

“It’s only a week,” you reassured him as he waved you goodbye at the airport. His lower lip was slightly pouting, and his usually straight eyebrows were raised in a subtle furrow. “I’m sure you’ll live, Hyunjin”. 

“Yeah but I wanted to come with you,” there was genuine pity in his voice and you knew he meant it —he never misses a chance to join you on your trips back home, or meeting your parents.  

Because of how busy he has been, and the fact that this trip was practically nonexistent a week before, he just couldn't ask for a time off at work this time.

“We’re spending Christmas there this year,” you tried to cheer him up, rubbing his arm with solace, “time flies by, anyways”. 

Hyunjin nodded, resigning himself to the imminent struggle of being hours and miles apart from each other.

“Text me when you get there, yeah?” He planted a chaste kiss on your forehead and held you tightly. “Text me all the time, I’ll reply when I can, okay?”

You nodded against his chest, and kept his promise throughout the whole trip. 

You texted him when you got to your home country, and you also texted him a picture of your first meal there. You told him all about the weather, how happy your parents were to see you after a while and the things you missed the most.

He promised he would reply when he could, but you knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Or at least not for a couple of more hours, until he woke up.

And basically, that has been the whole dynamic all along —you text him everything about your day at a given time, and he texts you everything about his day at a given time as well. There's very little conversation happening in between, but it's understandable.

By day 3, Hyunjin learned to convert time zones. If it is morning for him, it is late afternoon for you. If it is his late night, you're probably just waking up.

He knows when to text you —if he is expecting a quick response— and knows when you're sleeping. Taking all that into account, Hyunjin tries to make the most of the time that's actually convenient for the two of you to talk.

[08:19 a.m., Hyunjin: Baby]

With furrowed eyebrows, your fingers type away faster than your mind can comprehend it. 

[08:19 a.m., You: Shouldn’t you be asleep?]

[08:19 a.m., You: Isn’t it like 11 p.m. in Seoul?]

He is a night owl. Always have been.

But he has been trying really hard to adopt a healthier sleeping schedule, so seeing him online past 10 p.m. it's unusual these days.

“Everything alright?” Your father asks, picking up on the subtle furrow of your brows.

“Yeah, I’m just talking to Hyunjin,” with your phone in one hand, and the other busy with a fork on your breakfast, you await his response. 

“It’s such a shame he couldn’t make it,” your mother adds, “it has been a while since we last met him”.

At that moment, when your mom and dad start talking about how great of a guy he is and how happy they’re to have him as part of the family, your phone vibrates yet again in your hand. 

[08:21 a.m., Hyunjin: Attachment: one image]

[08:21 a.m., Hyunjin: Can you see how much I miss you?]

If it wasn’t for the glass of water you smartly chugged down to hide your coughs, you would have choked on a piece of fruit. Inevitably, and after a failed attempt to conceal the embarrassing moment, your parents' eyes are fixed on you with concern.

“Sorry,” you excuse yourself, cleaning your lips with a napkin while you relentlessly try to put your phone away from anyone’s sight. 

“Are you alright?” your mother asks this time, softly hitting your back 

“Yes,” you nod swiftly. “I just- the food kind of went into the wrong pipe”. 

On your lap, your phone keeps vibrating —one after another, you lose count after message number 4.

[08:22 a.m., Hyunjin: God, I miss your body so much]

[08:22 a.m., Hyunjin: Just want you here for me. Don't want anyone else to have you right now] 

[08:23 a.m., Hyunjin: My hand isn't enough. It doesn't feel like your pussy does]

[08:23 a.m., Hyunjin: Can you come back to me now? Lay underneath me and let me have my way with you?]

[08:24 a.m., Hyunjin: You have no idea how fucking hard I am] 

You gulp loudly.

“What do you think?” It's only when your mother directs a question at you that you snap out of your trance. 

“Huh?”

“What do you think about spending Christmas in some beautiful cabins? They're like 45 minutes away from the city,” she continues, offering you some of the context you missed because of Hyunjin’s heated messages.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply with hesitation. Not because of the idea, but because you really can’t process anything other than the warmth between your legs. “I- uh, I have to go to the restroom”. 

For all he knows, you're lying comfortably in your bed as this is around the time you usually wake up. So damned you, for not letting Hyunjin know that today you are having breakfast with your family at a restaurant. And damned him for putting you into an awkward situation without even knowing of it.

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Can I call you?]

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Want to hear your voice]

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Please, talk to me. Tell me anything you want. Just let me hear that pretty voice of yours]

[08:27 a.m., Hyunjin: Fuck it]

[08:27 a.m., Hyunijn: I’m calling you]

Good luck can’t be any more useful than right now, that you enter the restaurant’s restroom with your fingers crossed and an immense feeling of relief when you see every single stall open. 

And, as if on cue, the soft piano melody coming from your phone's speakers tells you that Hyunjin stuck up to his last message. 

“Are you busy?” It’s the first thing he says, with a hoarse voice and a hitched breath. 

“I’m at a restaurant,” you reply with just a little bit of shame in your tone. “With my parents”. 

Your boyfriend lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Shit I’m- I didn’t know, I’m sorry,” you can hear him panicking, maybe because he thinks you're upset. But in reality, it's all quite the opposite. “I’ll call you later just- forget I even- whatever, I’ll call you another time”. 

“No,” you rush to say, locking yourself into one of the bathroom stalls. “Don’t hang up, I can- I’m at the restroom”. 

There's a quick seconds of silence from the other line as Hyunjin gathers the remaining coherent thoughts after getting to hear your voice. “Is it- are there other people there?”

“For now it’s just me,” you reassure him.

“Just you?” He asks, and you hum in response. “I’m sorry for calling it’s just- God, I can’t spend another day without you”. 

The wet, sloppy slow sounds paired with the laziness of his voice can only give you a hint of what he is doing.

“Are you- masturbating?” 

It's not like you're a prude, but this whole thing is taking you by surprise. You're always together, so there's no need for phone sex or anything of that sort. Sexting isn’t unusual, but this is definitely a first.

“Yeah,” he replies with a raspy scoff. “Want me to stop?”

“No, I- no,” when you encourage him to continue, the lewd, wet sounds start to become more and more frequent —increasingly loud for you to hear them, “keep going”. 

Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh of frustration.

“Do you miss me too?” he asks, biting down his lower lip to prevent any whimpers from falling from them. 

“Yes,” with shortness of breath you admit. “I miss you too,”.

“Yeah?” He whispers under his breath, letting small grunts make their way to your ears. “I miss you badly. Can’t stop thinking about you- shit, can’t stop thinking about how pretty you look when you’re naked in my bed”. 

The compliments, all together, make your cheeks and body grow hotter. But inevitably, they force you to fix your gaze under the bathroom stall, in that little gap between it and the floor. There’s no sound nor signals of footsteps approaching, but the adrenaline of hearing him say such dirty things when you're out in public is definitely a new experience.

You can't say you hate it.

“Baby,” Hyunjin moans. And although you can’t see it, you can take a wild guess what he looks like right now: head kicked back, legs spread, his hand and dick glistening with lube, or lotion, or maybe spit. You can picture how pretty his face is right now, contorted in pleasure, with his lips all swollen from licking and biting them, eyes completely white while he bucks his hips up against his fist. “Talk to me, tell me about your plans for the day”.

You can’t help but laugh a little in the midst of the tension. 

“You want me to- talk about my day while you masturbate?”

“Well,” he scoffs under his breath. “I don’t expect you to say dirty stuff while you’re locked in a public restroom where anyone can walk in”. 

“Right,” you nod to yourself. “But I don't understand what that would do for you”. 

“I like your voice,” your boyfriend lets out a deep exhale of relief. “I can get off just by listening to it, doesn’t matter what you’re talking about”.

“You’re crazy,” a soft chuckle falls from your lips. “You’re not even going to pay attention to me”.

“Please?” you can hear a small whimper, and that alone convinces you. 

“Okay well,” you clear your throat before continuing, wondering how this could arouse him. But he is asking you something that is nowhere near difficult, so you comply. “I’m having breakfast with my parents right now”. 

“Aha,” Hyunjin hums, and if you play close attention you can hear his hand sliding up and down his cock. All you're left with is your imagination. “Keep going”.

“I will meet with a friend later, we’re going to grab some coffee”. 

Despite the weirdness of it all, there's something enticing about knowing he is using you, in some way, to get off. You're only talking about your day. But knowing your boyfriend is masturbating to the sound of your voice is arousing.

“Then I’ll go back home, get some work done,” you continue. “Think about you, think about how much I miss you right now”. 

The line goes silent, except for a mixture of gasps and groans. 

“You’re going to think about me?” Hyunjin asks, his silky voice sending shivers down your spine. “You’re going to touch yourself thinking about me?”

“Yes,” of course he doesn't expect you to talk dirty to him. But that never meant he couldn't say that kind of stuff to you. At that, you're at a disadvantage. No matter how turned on you're getting, there's nothing you can do about it and Hyunjin sort of feels thrilled because of it.

“You’re going to fuck my pussy with those fingers of you?”

God, how much you hate him for that. How he talks about your body as if it is his, reminding you that you belong to him and him only. 

You only hate it because it never fails to arouse you.

“Y-yes Hyune,” you reply, swallowing thickly. You're aware you can't say anything too obscene, but you still can engage in that kind of conversation without airing yourself too much. “Or should I- use something else?” 

“You packed your toys?” your boyfriend lets out a satisfied groan at your hum of agreement. You two are just so alike. “Which one are you using tonight, baby?”

“The transparent one”.

“The transparent one?” he thinks about it for a second, and immediately remembers which one you're referring to. “Thought you were going for the wand because it's your favorite, but I'm guessing you miss feeling full?”

“Aha,” you exhale. “Yes, I- miss it so bad”.

“You miss my cock stretching that tight pussy of yours?” At that, the wet movements become louder. “Stretch it nice and open for me baby, make sure to prep yourself every day for when you get back”. 

You bite your nails. “What’s going to happen when I get back?”

The answer is rather obvious, but you want to hear it from him.

“I’m going to make you come until you pass out,” Hyunjin bites his lips and kicks his head back, reminiscing all those times where you’ve come around his cock, fingers and tongue. “Make it up to you for all the days you've been away”. 

You can feel the pooling wetness in your underwear, the minimum squeeze of your thighs against each other is a constant reminder of it. 

“You miss my lips against your pussy like I do?” he asks, letting out a liberating gasp. “You miss tasting yourself off of me while we kiss?”

“You know I do,” you gulp loudly, caressing your lips with the tip of your fingers. God, how much you miss feeling his against yours.

They’re so soft, and velvety, and they know exactly how to kiss and bite you.

“I’m so close,” Hyunjin announces, and you feel your nipples hardening underneath your underwear at the despair in his voice. “I just- wish you were here, want to come all over your face, and body, make you swallow me full”. 

You want to say something, anything, but his words have much of a chokehold on you. You'll give anything to taste him, to kneel in front of him right now and open your mouth wide for him. 

You miss his taste, miss kissing him afterwards in between whines and grunts.

“I would grab your hair really tightly,” he explains, increasing the speed of his sounds. “I’d push my cock deep inside that pretty mouth of yours, have you gagging and drooling all over it”. 

Between his overwhelming words, and the loud sound of someone barging through the door of the restroom, you mutter a quick "can't talk anymore" before going completely silent.

“Honey, are you okay?”

Shit. 

You close your eyes, trying to focus on both parts: Hyunjin’s moans, and the way your mother is standing right outside your bathroom stall.

“It has been like 10 minutes, your father and I got worried”.

Your boyfriend lets out a teasing scoff, one that only you can hear.

“She’s asking you a question,” Hyunjin murmurs, still with a hitched breath. “Aren’t you going to answer?”

“I’m fine,” you rush to say. “Just- having a stomachache”. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve got some medicine in my bag,” of course she did. She always does, ever since you were little.

“Maybe you should tell her the truth,” the voice from the other line calls. “Tell her that you’re busy making me come”.

Immediately, your eyes open like plates and you wonder if the sound of the phone is too loud  for your mom to hear it inside the quiet restroom. 

“I forgot!” you snap, practically yell out loud. “I forgot you carried those with you”.

“Want me to bring them to you?”

You hear the faucet running, and Hyunjin chuckling slowly. At least she isn’t standing right outside the stall, but you’re still not at ease. 

“Y-yeah, please,” on the line, Hyunjin is waiting for the perfect moment to interrupt. 

Those two words are enough to send him to the edge. Despite the lack of sexual connotations, hearing you beg for anything it’s enough to arouse him.

“Ah, but I’ll have to bring you some water too,” your mother explains. “Maybe you can have it when you return to the table?”

“No!” You insist, all in an attempt to kick her away from the restroom. “Please, I need it right now. Please?” 

“Are you going to beg for me like that too?” Hyunjin groans through the line, not caring if anyone can hear him. Also not caring about interrupting your conversation. “Are you going to open your legs for me and beg for my dick like you’re begging right now?”

You almost choke on your own saliva, but the feeling quickly goes away when you hear your mother mutter an “okay, alright” before walking out the restroom door with a mission of easing your fake stomach ache.

“I almost get caught,” you gasp, only when a couple of seconds pass after she leaves. 

“Then hang up,” his shakily breath only tells you he is not that far from coming. Especially after hearing your voice again, pleading for whatever it was you were asking. 

“No,” you shake your head. “Want to hear you, please”. 

“Want to hear how I come for you?” he chuckles. “Want to her how I moan your name while I come thinking about how much I wish I was fucking you?”.

In a whisper, you hum quietly. 

“So dirty,” he is getting closer. “So, so f-fucking dirty. I can tell you’re enjoying this, even while you're out in public. Maybe you'll like it if i were to fuck you right there, while your parents wait for us at the table?”. 

You cover your mouth in surprise, trying to muffle a gasp.

“I would love to come inside you right now, pull up your panties and force you to spend the rest of the day with my cum leaking out of you,” he lets out another loud, choked groan before continuing to elaborate on the fantasy. “You'd be so wet, you wouldn't know if you're turned on or it's just my cum”.

“You’re insane,” you whisper under your breath.

“Yeah?” Hyunjin asks teasingly, slurring his words in between moans. “I know you are too, baby. I don’t even need to take a look at you to know you’re probably dripping just by my words, right?”

Damned him.

“And I know I’m not too out of my mind when I say you would let me fuck you right then and there, where everyone could hear you and anyone could walk in,” at that, the lewd noises increase. “Might even let me finger you underneath the table, right? Bet you would love to have my fingers deep inside you while you try to pretend you don’t”. 

“And I know I’m not too out of my mind when I say you would let me fuck you right then and there, where everyone could hear you and anyone could walk in,” at that, the lewd noises increase. “Might even let me finger you underneath the table, right? Bet you would love to have my fingers deep inside you while you try to pretend you don’t”. 

Oh you're definitely going to cancel all your plans for the day. Might even book an early fly.

Anything, just to see him soon.

“God,” Hyunjin exhales, and it’s between quiet moans that you realize he is coming. “F-fuck, ‘m coming so fucking much”.

You can picture it. His tone abdomen all glistening with sweat and cum, shining brightly underneath the dim light of your room. His cock is probably red, and swollen, and twitching while he overcomes his high.

Fuck, damned be Hyunjin for making you ruin your panties this early in the morning.

“So much,” he repeats, fingers trailing the lines of his abdomen as he collects his arousal off of it. “Too sad it went to waste, I would’ve preferred to fuck it back inside of you”.

“I hate you,” you finally breathe, both in relief and frustration. “I hate how much I miss you”.

“Then come home soon,” your boyfriend pouts.

And honestly? You might.

[pupyuj]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C6_fxx8Pm0x/?igsh=MWw2MGF0bzgzMjdpYQ==

UHMM?? HELLOOOOO? OBSESSED YUJIN, STALKER YUJIN,CRAZY YUJIN💦

HEHEHDHDHCJ i thank the lord everyday for the existence of accendio mv bcs EVIL!YUJIN??? god i need her. GOOD!GAEUL GIVE ME THE WAND I CAN DISTRACT HER 😛😛😛 also this doesn't have too much smut purely bcs i didn't rlly think it'd fit much into the scenario but there's still some crumbs! 😭

[cw: dubcon (implied), yujin is really creepy and insane]

anon said the words ‘obsessed’, ‘stalker’, and ‘crazy’ and i just immediately thought of those admirers that go too far with their crush on that one person and yeah.. sounds like something yuj would be alright 🤪 her being the cool sunbae yujin that’s taken a strange liking to you, literally just some girl 😭 yujin being so confident of herself that she doesn’t waste energy by being subtle at all! constantly waiting by your locker to say good morning, sometimes she even takes you to class, waves at you if she doesn’t have time to talk to you, makes small talk in the bathrooms, the library, the courtyard, the gardens—wait, how is it that she knows wherever you are almost all the time?? 🤔 maybe it was all just a coincidence, yujin knows the campus like the back of her hand after all! 😅

anyway, yujin is very romantic! she knows a lot of things that you like! how? why, she kindly asked your friends.. with a few threats here and there bcs they were becoming suspicious of her intent but the point is that she got the information she wanted, okay? ☺️ she knows your favorite type of flowers, favorite foods and delicacies, and sometimes shows up at your front porch with those exact gifts just for you! 🥰

except that.. you never told her where you lived. not even which part of town your house was in. not even your friends could’ve told her. that’s why they showed up to school with bruises and cuts one day. but turns out yujin found you anyway. like she always does.

that was the final straw for you—you were officially creeped the fuck out! and so you start putting some distance between you and yujin but she didn't like that at all! she started following you around more, practically running after you every time you dash away from her.. she wasn't going to give up easily! 😣😣 you tried to block her from all of your social media accounts bcs she keeps spamming you with borderline threats and pictures of you that she has taken while she stalked you but she was really stubborn!

wouldn't think there would be anything wrong with climbing your house and watching you right next to your bedroom window,, her heavy breathing fogging up the glass with how close she was just to see your clearly,, you looked so beautiful sleeping so peacefully! :(( but you'd stir in your sleep, as if you knew something was amiss beyond your little dreamland.. then you'd wake up and find your window slightly open,, at first you thought that you probably just forgot to close it again but then your eyes snap open at the sight of the figure sitting on your bed,, your first instinct would be to kick it and move away but it was faster than you! it covers your mouth shut and only under the tiniest stream of moonlight did you recognize the person that had broken into your room—ahn yujin!

ofc she wouldn't see a problem with breaking into your home,, doesn't hesitate to threaten you either! saying that she'd hurt you or worse if you were to make a single noise and alert your neighbors. yujinnie just wanted to get close to you! in her head, she has been nothing but kind! why did you insist on rejecting her?! she truly didn't understand, but that was okay. she was going to make you understand! now that she has you all for herself... she can do anything she has been wanting to do! like kissing you (she was very happy when you eventually kissed back despite your initial resistance!), touching you (she always knew your skin was so soft), and ofc, fucking you (you rlly had to make her for work it—kicking and punching and trying to bite her hand... but in the end, yujin got her way with you. like she always will from now on.) 😰

[living-dead-author]

Sexual therapy: Hannibal x Reader Chapter two: Praise

This is a bit over double the word count of the last chapter and now we're getting into the meat of this. I have a ton more chapters planned so get ready for all that is to come.

Content includes: Naked reader, consensual kink, vibrator used on reader, clitoral stimulation, praise, aftercare, mentions of spanking at the end

This is 18+ minors and ageless accounts will be blocked

At 7:30 sharp Hannibal opens his office door, smiling at you. You wore what he instructed you to wear, something formal but comfortable and easy to slip out of. He steps aside and lets you in. 

“Good evening Dr. Lecter.” You say, looking back at him as he shuts his office door. 

“It’s a pleasure to see you again Y/N. Do you remember what I have planned for us today?” He asks as you notice the chase lounge in his office is now covered in some kind of clear vinyl material. You nod your head and turn back to face him. 

“Yes Dr. Lecter I do. Today we will be experimenting with praise and you will be using a vibrator on me. The scene will end when I reach an orgasm or when either of us says the safe word. I’m very excited for today's session.” Hannibal smiles and nods his head, taking off his suit jacket. 

“That is correct. You’re a very smart person I must say. Now, be good for me and take off your clothes.” He says, his hands moving to unbutton his suit vest. You do as you're told and you take off all of your clothes, holding them in your arms for a moment before you set them down on one of the leather chairs in his office. “You’re a good listener, very obedient.” Hannibal smiles slightly and makes his way over to his desk. “Now lay down on the chase in whatever position you normally masterbate in.” 

His direct language caught you off guard but again you do as you're told and lay down on the chase, feeling the cool material of the clear vinyl underneath you. 

“Are you worried I’m dirty Dr. Lecter?” You ask in a light hearted manner as he pulls out a small oval shaped device and a small remote. Hannibal shakes his head and walks back over towards you. 

“Of course not. My perfect patient is very clean I’m sure, I just want to be cautious about any material that could stain getting on my lounge chair.” He says, bending down and looking at the slit between your legs that’s growing wetter by the moment. He gently and carefully places the oval device on your clit and positions it so it’s comfortable. 

“Now, if you want to go faster or slower you will ask politely and I will wait to see if you deserve it.” He says, standing back up. He presses a button on the remote and you feel the device start to vibrate against your clit in the perfect way. You can’t help but let out a moan and shut your eyes as Hannibal smiles.

“When was the last time your ex boyfriend made you orgasm?” He asks in a calm manner, waiting for a response as you adjust to the vibration against your clit. 

“Mmm~ In the…beginning of our relationship…three years ago…” You say between moans as Hannibal increases the speed on the vibrator, making you cry out in more pleasure as you jerk your hips before setting them back on the chase again. 

“That’s a shame.” Hannibal says, walking around the lounge as he looks down on your, soft moans escaping your mouth, small beads of sweat forming on your forehead, the way you bite your lip to try and stay quiet. “Don’t hold back your moans. I want to know how good I’m making my perfect patient feel.” You slowly open your mouth again and you let out more and more moans. “You’re taking this very well. I can see that you’re going to react well to what else I have planned for us. But it’s a very pleasing sight seeing you in a divine state like this.” 

You nod your head and keep moaning quietly as the vibrator hums on and on over your clit as you get wetter and wetter. You’re not sure what it is but you never get this turned on on your own, or when your boyfriend tried to be intimate with you. This is the most aroused you’ve been in a very long time. 

“Oh Dr. Lecter~ Please~ Please turn it up~” You moan out to him, your head tilted back as you adjust yourself to get more comfortable.

“Does my perfect patient deserve a higher speed?” He asks, looking down at you with that remote in his hand. You nod your head and he smiles softly. “Use your words like the intelligent person you are.” Those words send a surge of blood to your clit, making the feeling of the vibrator all the more intense as you try to get out the words. 

“Yes~ Yes please Dr. Lecter~ Please~ I deserve it~” You moan, a small bead of sweat rolling down your face and neck as you wait for him to react. 

 Hannibal presses a button and the speed gets faster, making you moan out louder.

“You’re taking this very well. I want you to take a deep breath for me. You’re obedient enough to do that.” Hannibal comments, smiling down at the sight of you struggling to keep your pleasure under control as you try to follow his instructions. “You deserve this. You deserve to feel this good, you deserve to be praised like the good submissive that you are.” 

Those words send you over the edge, making you orgasm hard. Your hips raise in the air as Hannibal turns down the vibration slightly, but not fully, to let you ride out this orgasm. Slowly but surely, as you come down from your high, the pleasure is replaced with a need to squirm. As you lay back down, limper than before, Hannibal turns off the vibrator and walks over to you, removing it from between your legs and turning you over to rest on your stomach. 

“The scene is over. You did very good for me.” He says, walking over to his desk, placing the vibrator and remote in a plastic bag before returning with a glass of water in his hand. He tilts your head up and helps you drink from it, pushing your hair damp from sweat off your forehead as he lets you finish the glass on your own. 

“Thank you Hannibal.” You say as you continue to lay there limply, taking in slow, deep breaths as you come down from your orgasm. Hannibal sits at the edge of the chase, rubbing his hand up and down your back in a soothing manner.

“Of course Y/N, aftercare is very important. It’s crucial to make sure you don’t get into a depressive episode because of improper care. Now, do you need anything else before I help you to the bathroom so you can clean yourself up?” He asks, keeping up his soothing, soft motions of rubbing your back. You think for a moment and look over at him. 

“May I have another glass of water?” You ask, wiping more sweat off your forehead. Hannibal nods and gets up, picking up your glass before returning with it, filled with water again. You take it from his hands and sit up as you slowly drink it all. Hannibal takes your hand and leads you over to the private bathroom in his office. 

“If you require any assistance please let me know.” He gives you a soft smile before shutting the door and letting you clean yourself up. 

You return back to his office after you finish. Hannibal is drinking his own glass of water and you start to get dressed again, your face glowing with pleasure and satisfaction. Like a five year long itch has just started to get scratched. 

“I want to try something a bit different next time.” You say, looking over at Hannibal as you zip up your pants. He smiles softly and you and sets down his glass.

“What did you have in mind?” He asks, resting a hand on his desk. 

“I want to try a roleplay. I want it to be your assistant and I want you to be my boss. I want you to spank me while I’m in some lingerie during that roleplay.” Hannibal nods and motions for you to sit down while he takes a seat in his own chair. 

“I like the idea of that. Let’s discuss this more before our session ends.” You nod your head and smile, making sure to get comfortable because you know Hannibal loves to be thorough. 

[starwrighter]

I am not a baby!!(Yes you are)

(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Chapter 18 baby!)

The hatchling didn’t stay in his nest very long. Damian had thought the little one would be exhausted after his first encounter with Grayson. He himself had been exhausted by the encounter. It had taken ages to convince the other to leave and stop stalking near the plateaus.

The constant attempts at surveillance from his siblings were irritating before he’d been assigned to watch the hatchling. They were infuriating now. He isn't an infant anymore, and he hasn't been one for a thousand years. It's annoying that his siblings thought him so incompetent that he couldn’t complete this one simple task.

They acted like they weren't guilty of losing hatchlings in their territories. Scolding him like a hatchling slipping past someone was this unheard-of act of negligence. He knew for a fact each and every one of them had lost track of a guppy at least once. At least the little one he’s guarding was still alive. Damian had managed to keep it that way. Unlike other's he could think of.

This little one was healthy, swimming around faster than a pissed-off crashfish. He clicked his teeth at the child, a call of “come here” that the child either couldn’t understand or was blatantly ignoring. The little one was desperate to explore, but as he kicked his little legs closer and closer in the direction of the crash site, Damian couldn’t help but take action.

Bolting from his spot in the sand, he crooned. A worried scolding noise. A gentle nudge from clawed hands was met with a frustrated nip from the hatchling. With puffed-up cheeks, the hatchling darted around him, dodging his attempts at blocking him with a stubborn determination.

Why the little one was so determined to make his way to the crash site was beyond his understanding. Was it a built-in instinct to head towards their “Mother”? The structure that harbored them was no doubt artificial so it was safe to assume he wasn’t straying to gain comfort from a dead parent. Maybe he thought other members of his clutch would be nearby. These little ones tended to flock towards places other hatchlings had been. Presumably, Duke had been the one to find the hatchling near the egg in the kelp forests, even if the elder didn’t realize it.

Damian followed the hatchling deeper into the sand-clouded waters anxiety flaring the longer the little one ignored his warning. The metal here was still hot enough to mutilate a hatchling who drew close enough to touch it. Wreckage everywhere the eye could see, Damian didn’t trust any of it. How could one trust something that tended to spontaneously combust around a child? You couldn’t. This biome was too dangerous for a hatchling and he hadn’t even taken the reapers into account yet!

“Owwwwww”

Damian stared at the little one. There wasn’t a scratch on him yet pain and nausea radiated of him. The child blinked rapidly, pushing through the water despite Damian's attempts to pull him back.

“Get back here!” Damian called, the hatchling didn’t even acknowledge him. He just kept swimming forward. Closer to the reaper and closer to a mother that likely was never alive in the first place. The hatchling acknowledged his own pain, his swimming staggered the hatchling struggling to keep upright but continued his plight.

Damian huffed, snapping his teeth, flaring his gills, and striking the space beside the little one. An intimidation tactic, if the child wouldn’t respond to a guardian, he’d respond to an agitated predator. Using his size to his advantage, Damian towered over him, the glowing blue slab in the hatchling’s hands screamed.

Those little slabs had to have a tracker of some kind inside of them. The children would look at those glowing screens and wander towards somewhere dangerous. Specifically, a dangerous area another hatchling had once been in. Damian couldn’t bring himself to feel bad when the screen went blank.

“No!”

Distress was clear in the little one’s cry, blue eyes fixated on the slab.

“Sad” Damian reached for the child, freezing in his spot when a bone-chilling noise could just barely be heard. A noise he could recognize in a heartbeat, but it didn’t matter how quickly he recognized the sound. He had heard it, and that meant it could see them.

A reaper shouldn’t be here! Jason was supposed to be corralling them today. They’d wandered too close, and a reaper had snuck away from Jason’s care to take advantage. The hatchling kept staring at the dead tablet, unaware of the impending danger.

Damian puffed up, taking in a breath and letting out the loudest shriek his body could manage, wrapping his body around the guppy. His clawed hands prevented escape or in this case, prevented sharp mandibles from impaling the tiny skull of an infant. The little one was silent as the reaper charged, Damian’s tail raised to smack the mindless attacker away.

Its body was all muscle, eyes hungry and irrational. The strikes from his tail made an audible crack but did nothing to deter the beast. His defenses only served to anger it further. Reapers only cared about food, it would’ve been normal behavior had it not been for the bloodthirsty way they attempted to eat anything that moved regardless of size or age. Damian was far too large for the reaper to eat on its own on the unlikely chance the creature managed to finish him off, but it didn’t seem to care.

Logically he knew the animal was driven by instinct, but his bitterness prevailed. Reapers were not a part of this ecosystem that he favored, but he could understand the crucial role they played in local population control. Even if said population control attacked everything, including each other.

Blood spilled into the sea, but so long as it wasn’t red, Damian didn’t falter. Red copper-smelling blood meant death; a sign of ensured failure that’d stick with him for the rest of his natural life. Damian glanced down at the hatchling. The little one pointed a tool through the small gaps in his claws.

The tool was easy to recognize. The little one pointed it at everything, sometimes he would eat whichever flora or fauna he used it on. Damian wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking the opportunity to check if a reaper was edible. Father told him growing babies were always hungry and this hatchling had done nothing to disprove this theory.

Damian thrashed his tail, striking the beast into the ground. They didn’t know where that fish spent its time. Reapers didn’t care if what they ate was diseased. The ultimate carrier of plague. A baby's immune system was so incredibly fragile it had only taken three hours for the child in Dick’s territory to fall prey to illness. They needed to get out of here, now.

“Swim!” The hatchling beat his tiny fist against his skin. It was only the direction he was drifting towards that reassured him the little one wanted away from the reaper. He snapped, baring his teeth at the reaper, striking it down once more before shooting off with the hatchling gripped gently in his claws.

“Speed!!” The hatchling cheered, kicking his legs like he hadn’t almost been swallowed whole by a reaper.

“We wins, next time” The little one stared at him with those expressive blue eyes. There wouldn’t be a next time so long as he could help it. It wouldn’t be long before he was lectured for allowing the child anywhere near the site in the first place.

His tail ached, as they glided towards the safety of the shallows. A tsunami of nausea struck him as lingering adrenaline slowly faded from his system. He hadn’t failed, the guppy was fine. Not a scratch on him. This was fine. There would be no need for Father to assign someone else to watch the hatchling.

He was the most competent out of all of them! A whole three days this hatchling had been alive on this planet. His siblings couldn’t even keep one alive for three hours. This little one was stubborn and tiny, everywhere was a good hiding place for him and if he wanted to go somewhere he’d go with or without a guardian. Anyone with a brain could imagine the outcome of a hatchling wandering the crash sight by themself. They’d seen what happened, and it wasn’t pretty. Damian had done everything right, and dealt with the difficult situation handed to him without any casualties.

All it would take was a few seconds of them watching him before the guppy escaped from their watch. A few seconds and they’d be swimming around panicked like a shoal of rabbit rays. Damian doubted the hatchling being passed to someone else would stop his need for exploration. With the ability to maneuver on land, it wasn’t hard to imagine the child running off to explore one of the islands completely out of their reach. Damian didn’t even want to think about the possible tragedies that could happen if he’d wandered completely out of reach. The little “adventure” they’d gone on today induced a lifetime of anxiety in just a few minutes, but he doubted this would be the last time something like this would happen.

“Free me!” The child demanded, squirming in his gentle grip as they entered the coral-filled biome. The little one pried the claws off his back, diving into the sand the moment he regained his freedom.

Thwack!

“OW!”

A peeper charged straight for the child, impacting against chubby cheeks with a loud smack! With the bravo of a biter, it slapped the child directly in the face with its body. He couldn’t help but snort, quickly batting the small blue fish away before the hatchling could take his revenge. A thin trail of glittering gold followed the retreating prey fish, leaving Damian alone to do damage control.

“Gross!” The hatchling scrunched his nose, rubbing his hands against his face. Not a mark was left on him, only the lingering sparkle of yellow clinging to his skin. An encounter with a peeper wouldn’t kill them. If anything, one might argue it's healthy for him.

“Bleeding!” The child frowned, staring guilty at Damian’s tail. Yellow oozed from long thin scratches running down the thinner parts of his tail. Minor injuries that’d do him no harm in the long term. It was the better of the many morbid outcomes that’d been possible.

“Am sorry,”

Damian chuffed, holding the child in his palm, raising him slowly to the surface. Chubby hands smacked against his forehead the moment he lowered the child into the water a brief warning before he shot off into the kelp forest.

There wasn’t a second where he took his eyes off the guppy. Stalking with his body pressed up against the ground. The biome had plenty of hiding places for the hatchling but Damian was limited. His second form was far better suited for stealth but ran a higher risk of fatal injuries from larger fauna and attracted the attention of precursor-built predators.

A Warper was the last thing anyone wanted to introduce to a child. They attacked at random, culling off populations of fish and flora. While they preferred killing those with glowing cysts on their body, it didn’t stop them from attacking perfectly healthy individuals. It wouldn’t stop them from attacking the hatchling.

Tiny flippers cut through the water. An abundance of creepvine keeps the biome a murky green. He curled around stone arches watching the hatchlings chase fish, catching them between sharp canines.

“Distraction!” The child shouted, followed by the wet thwap of a dead fish impacting against a stalker's jaw. The animal was dazed by the attack but not injured as they eagerly scarfed down the “Weapon” that struck them. Other stalkers were smarter. Slowly approaching the child with open jaws, accepting a snack without having to face the violent throwing hand of an infant.

He himself was guilty of feeding stalkers. They never became docile enough to be a pet, but were still one of his favorite animals. Feeding them was much easier for him than it was for a hatchling this tiny. The child’s method was rather violent but it was necessary to ensure he wouldn’t be eaten alongside the offered fish.

“What the fuck were you doing in the crash site earlier?” Jason questioned cutting through his observations. Concern entwined with the fury lacing his words.

“You need to be more specific Todd, everyone’s been frequenting the crash site recently,” Damian replied, an obvious dismissal of the other’s concerns.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” Jason seethed “You’re on babysitting duty. Why the fuck would you try to fist fight a reaper when?”

“Would you have preferred I allowed the creature to eat the hatchling?” Damian sneered. “He’s determined to wander, our excursion to the crash site wasn’t planned,” He started.

“You were supposed to keep him in the shallows,”

“If I’d managed to stop him he’d have escaped and gone on his own,” Damian reminded, his voice tense. Many hatchlings had escaped or died on their careful watch, especially when they were kept confined to a single biome.

Damian didn’t want to keep the hatchling cooped up somewhere so cramped. Not when their species was still unknown to them. What if wandering allowed them to fulfill needs crucial to their survival? Precursors were the ones who kept children as prisoners. They were the ones who’d lock a child up and leave them until they died in agony, not him! Not his family, they wouldn’t do that. “Is he okay?” Jason asked.

“He’s catapulting dead fish at stalkers so I think it’s safe to assume he’s healthy,” Damian replied.

“What about you, demon spawn?” Jason questioned

“A reaper couldn’t even dream of hurting me,” Damian huffed.

“Not what I meant,” Jason sighed, the other sounded exhausted. “Something in the crash site is making everything really fucking sick. Bruce thinks it’s the mother spilling off some nasty decomp,”

“…” Damian felt fine, a little nauseous, but he was fine. There was no need for bed rest or a break. The idea of an artificial structure spilling toxic decomp was new but not impossible. Precursors did have a morbid fascination with playing god. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to assume this is a failure of this overconfident thought process.

In the thousand years Warpers’ had been on this planet, none of them had ever died naturally. None of them had shown even the smallest sign of degrading with age. A Warper rotting, was an unthinkable concept you’d expect to happen when the sun dies out. But these hatchlings weren’t Warpers. Warpers were put together in an intricate process that had likely been perfected over a long time. These crashes screamed of a rush job. Tim had theorized the precursors had set both “mothers” on a timer before they’d gone extinct. Since there was nobody to monitor development, they were shot down far too early.

They didn’t know whose DNA was stolen to make any of the hatchlings. Knowing the precursors, most of these hatchlings had DNA that could stem from other unfortunate planets.

Damian glanced back to the hatchling. Incredibly tiny, with dull fingers and a reliance on the technology he created. They were dealing with a premature baby. A premature baby whose egg had malfunctioned upon impact. Smaller than any of the hatchlings they’ve seen before yet twice as ferocious to make up for that.

A string of strange chirps sounded from the little one’s tablet glowing once again. The guppy spun around looking around the kelp forest before his eyes landed on Damian.

“I sees you!” The child shouted before returning to cut pieces of kelp. Damian wasn’t sure if the boy’s short attention span was a blessing or a curse.

“Will I need to be quarantined?” Damian stalked the child as he swam back to the shallows. His tail dragged awkwardly against the sand. Small piles of rock were knocked to the seabed, a cloud of dust upturned with his attempts of swift stealthy movements.

“Probably, B has me contained in the fucking dunes,” Jason complained like he didn’t spend his time there daily.

“Sad,” The hatchling projected, Damian looked around, searching for anything that could have caused the child distress. Maybe he was tired? Damian wasn’t a guppy anymore, he didn’t think the same way a child would, but it was only logical for him to be tired after the day they’d had.

“Want my siblings,” the guppy cried, shaking his head with a scrunched nose. Damian frowned, reaching out for the child with a mournful croon. The child had been looking for his clutch mates back then and likely had been searching for them when he’d escaped Damian’s watch before.

“Loud, ouch, hurt” He froze watching as the little one cradled his head in his hands. A softer lower croon was sufficient for a hatchling with a developing sense of hearing. The child stared at him with utter confusion, like he couldn’t comprehend Damian could control his volume. Everything the hatchling said was either a shout or barely audible. Compensation for not having access to the bond yet.

“Mad!” The hatchling huffed, almost giving him a heart attack as he began coughing. A hatchling couldn’t die from being too mad right? No, none of his family would have made it past infancy if that were the case.

“Who will watch the hatchling while I’m in quarantine?” Damian questioned.

“Tim or Dick, they’re the only ones who haven’t gone to the crash site recently,”

Damian rested his head on his chin with a sigh. Tim being one of the only ones not to enter the crash site was a surprise. Tim was the first person you’d think would be flocking to the biome to investigate. Tim loved knowing about everything precursor-related and was especially obsessed with the tools the hatchling used. The insomniac thought they’d be able to mimic the hatchling’s abilities if they studied them hard enough. Tim had fought tooth and claw to loot the few buildings the hatchlings managed to make but Father rejected his requests no matter how he begged. Said it was disrespectful to the dead, and so the buildings were left to rust.

Tim not swarming to scavenge through the wreckage before anyone could stop him was strange. An outlier in an otherwise predictable pattern of behavior. It was an obvious plot to gain access to the only hatchling who lived long enough to build. It’s infuriating but at least the hatchling would be safe under his keen but obsessive eyes.

Dick would be a good babysitter in theory but was overly excitable. Shallow water made his emp field oppressive, and dangerous, something the hatchling had been rightfully terrified of. Dick showing up would surely stress the child out more than would be necessary. The moment he made a grab for the child was the moment he fled and they lost him forever.

“No touch!” The little one puffed up his chest darting back to his nest with ferocity kicking his legs like he wanted to attack the water itself. Damian could only assume the hatchling was cranky because they were up all day. Father said guppies needed lots of sleep but this one didn’t seem to get the memo.

“How long will I be quarantined?” Damian asked staring deeply at the metal structure.

“Until you’re better or until we figure out if what we caught is contagious,” Jason replied bluntly. Damian glared at the sand like each grain had offended him personally. What if the hatchling forgot about him? Object permanence in hatchlings is severely lacking, this one wasn’t any different. It was an unfortunate factor of harboring a brain just beginning to develop and take in information.

“Where am I quarantining?” Damian questioned, raising an eyebrow when he heard the other groan exasperatedly.

“In the dunes with me and everyone else,”

“You’re joking,” Damian accused. The dunes were plenty big enough to hold all of them but it’d be extremely unpleasant.

“Kill me,” Jason deadpanned. Damian nodded, a mercy killing was the ethical solution to this problem.

“I was screwing around earlier so now Duke and Steph think they’re dying of a new precursor plague and Cass has been playing dead in a ditch for about an hour,” Jason complained, a painful-sounding wheeze tainting his words.

“I see…” This wasn’t an ideal situation. He assumed the hatchling would be quarantined inside its nest. It was too dangerous to move him but deadlier to infect him with whatever they’d caught if they didn’t have it already.

Damian eyed the hatch of the child’s nest. The only entrance to the little building. Before he even knew what he was doing he’d curled himself around the hatchling’s base taking incredible care not to break anything. Like a boulder blocking a cave entrance Damian rested his head in front of the hatch.

Blocking the hatchling’s escape into anywhere dangerous while also preventing any physical contact with him. Now all he had to do was wait until his replacement came. Damian sneered, the thought of leaving the hatchling behind for someone else to bond with still irked him more than the pounding headache.

Maybe now the child might finally decide to sleep?

(No more tags because we're on the 18th chapter and there is both a master post and an ao3 link,)

[yours-etc]

12 Days of Steddie-Mas

Day 5:

You would be there too, under the mistletoe

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Steve had always wanted to be the person who hosted holiday parties. With his parents constantly being gone, the holidays never felt like they were supposed to. He had always dreamed of having a house full of people all dressed in ugly sweaters chatting over mugs of spiked hot chocolate or eggnog.

With a little luck (and government hush money) Steve was able to move into a smaller place with Robin. They fixed up the house to their taste and decided they were to be the hosting house for the party from here on out. No more parents just upstairs or walking on eggshells trying not to break any antiques. This was a house just for them to be themselves. After all they had went through together, they deserved a space to truly be themselves.

When December finally came Steve and Robin had already planned their beige Christmas Eve Eve bash for everyone. They sent out real invites with silly Christmas stamps and everything.

Looking around the room Steve sees his dream finally come true. Everyone is there with tastefully ugly sweaters and laughing and filling the house with warmth. Tinsel lined every surface possible and presents laid under the tree to be handed out later. He couldn’t help the smile that made its way to his face. For the first time in a long time Steve could say he was not only happy, but content.

The doorbell rang signaling the last stragglers had arrived.

“I got it!” Steve said jumping into action, playing the perfect host.

When he opens the door there is Gareth and Jeff waiting on the other side, arms full of gifts, only slightly disappointed at the last of their usual third party.

”Hey Steve! Merry Christmas!” Gareth says running into the house, looking like he was about to drop everything and needed to put them all down before that happened.

Jeff followed him in, “Hi Steve, Thanks for the invite!”

“Not a problem,” Steve says, moving out of their way in the doorway.

“Eddie is still in the car grabbing the last of the things,” Gareth calls back before he can close the door.

Steve looked out the front door to the drive way to see Eddie’s van sitting there with back doors open wide. He quickly puts on some shoes and runs out to help, “Need some assistance?” He asks.

Eddie jumps slightly, not having heard Steve walk up. He looks to Steve, noticing his lack of a jacket, “Jesus Harrington, no need to freeze yourself on my account! I got it all, go back inside,” He says shooing Steve.

He ignores him, going to the open back door and picking up several wrapped boxes, “The faster we get these inside the sooner the real party can start,” he says teasingly. Steve walks away arms full, he hears Eddie quickly gather up the last of the boxes and close the back doors of the van before running to catch up to him.

——————————

Everyone is sitting around in the living room and passing out gifts to one another. Wrapping paper is going everywhere, Steve thinks its time to grab a trash bag to start collecting it all, they aren’t even halfway through everything and the mountain of paper is getting ridiculously large. He stands up and makes his way to the kitchen to retrieve the sack.

When he turns around Eddie is standing there, looking shy.

Thinking he needed some water or something from the counter he was blocking, Steve moves to the side, “Sorry Eds, let me get out of your way,” He tries to hurry out of the room, always feeling to warm whenever he’s in a room with Eddie alone for too long.

But Eddie sticks his hands out to stop him, “Wait I came in here for you!”

Steve looks at him with wide eyes, “For me?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a smile, “I have a gift for you, but it's sort of— private, I guess.”

He didn’t think his eyes could go this wide, or heartbeat this fast, “Oh okay,” His voice cracking with nervousness.

It is then that he notices Eddie’s hands holding something behind his back. Steve looks expectantly, wanting to see what was so special Eddie wanted to give it to him alone…

The boy in front of him scratches his neck, “Uhh, could you close your eyes real quick?” He asks.

Steve closes his eyes without another word. He waits for Eddie to be ready. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he’d do anything Eddie asked him to do.

After a few moments Eddie lets out a big breath, “Okay, you can open your eyes.”

When he does he sees Eddie there with a bright red flush, and when Steve looks up to what he is holding above them, he sees a fresh bunch of mistletoe.

Steve’s heart feels like its about to burst out of his chest.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, but I’m a fucking scaredy cat, and this is pretty terrifying. And you’re perfect and everyday I don’t tell you it gets harder to keep in,” Eddie starts to ramble as Steve stands there shocked, “But I’ve had this stupid— silly really— crush on you since like sophomore year, and now that I actually know you… it’s ten times worse. And I don’t know recently it’s felt, mutual? Please don’t hit me for saying this and I’m so sorry if I’m reading everything wrong, but I want to kiss you so bad right now, there is no reason you should look as good as you do in an ungly Christmas sweater!” Everything just spews out of him and Steve just listens, waiting for a moment to respond.

He soon realizes that if he didn’t stop it, Eddie would ramble forever. So he took Eddie’s face in his hands and pulls him into a small kiss. Something sweet, and simple, and far too short, but now is not the time to have a make out session in the kitchen. When Steve pulls back, Eddie has gone completely still in his hands.

Steve goes in again. Eddie is more reactive this time, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist, leaning into him. He could feel how nervous Eddie was in the kiss. Steve pulls away again, this time pulling a groan from Eddie in protest.

“I’m not doing much for Christmas Eve, Robin is going to her parents. If you’re free,” Steve starts, but he is cut off by Eddie moving to him first this time. They both smile into this kiss. Eddie’s hands and more confident now, grabbing Steve and pulling him in tight.

Steve tries to push away, “Eddie everyone is in the other room.”

“I actually couldn’t give less of a fuck in this moment,” He say before attacking Steve’s neck.

Dustin’s voice rings out from the living room, “Steve where the hell did you go?”

Footsteps getting closer had them jumping apart with lightning speed.

Steve moves first, meeting Dustin halfway, “I’m literally right here, just getting a glass of water and a trash bag since you all insist on making a mess.”

Dustin rolls his eyes, “Yeah, well hurry up, you have a pile of things to open.”

When Steve sits back down next to Robin, he notices a grin plastered to her face.

“What?” He asks squirming under her gaze.

Robin raises an eyebrow, “I see you like Eddie’s gift,” she says matter of fact.

He looks at her baffled before shoving her over, hard enough to get the point across, not hard enough to push her off the chair, although he really wanted to.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Day: 1 2 3 4 5 6 AO3

DAY 5!!! How excitinggg!! Thank you all on the love for all of these <3 Christmas gets closer and closer everyday! I cant get enough of these two idiots in love, they mean the world to me.

As always thank you for reading and more to come!

[slasherbtch]

☆ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝐘𝐞𝐬/𝐍𝐨

☆ 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐡𝐜

☆ 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐫: 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭!

☆ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

✮ What an amazing joke. Brhams does not and never have gotten stuck in a wall. When he’s in a fit of rage, he actually breaks through walls/mirrors and punches doors with his bare hands!

✮ Let’s also take into account how old the house is. I'm a little surprised it hasn’t gotten blown over by the wind.

✮ While yes, technically, someone with his big ass build should be getting stuck—as would any normal person in such a cramped place but two thing’s for sure and one thing’s for certain, Brahms was not normal.

✮ He grew up living inside those walls because of his family. He had no other choice but to learn how to maneuver through them, to figure out where he could fit and could not fit as he grew to maturity. Not that he has actually matured mentally.

✮ When you factor in all of that, it’s just not possible for him to get stuck. He knows the ends and outs of the house—if one end gets blocked, he’s already running to the other.

✮ Now if we are talking hypothetically and that’s a big hypothetically, a mc nanny is most likely involved. If that’s the case, he will play victim. After all, you are there to take care of him.

✮ He may be taller than you, stronger than you and faster but like mentioned before—he hasn’t exactly reached that level of maturity. He still acts out when he doesn’t get his way or he’s being childish by throwing tantrums. He plays games often—finds it fun to confuse you or scare you. He will play the hurt kitten card if it gets your attention only on him, he has no shame—and he will play it well.

✮ Recently I read a headcanon from another writer that he liked to read the ‘Hero save the Princess’ books when he was younger and he often imagined he was the knight saving her. In reality mc is doing the saving; saving him from his loneliness, his lack of attention/affection and I guess, from being “stuck in the wall”.

✮ I put quotations because he’s not really stuck. He’s playing another game. Another one you're already tired of as you talk to him through the wall, reassuring him that everything’s going to be okay. It’s certainly okay but you’re gonna have to work for it to get him out of the wall before dinner time comes.

✮ He’ll talk to you in his child voice, urging you to come inside the wall and help him. He. Just. Can’t. Budge. As if your small frame compared to his was going to make him move. That’s like trying to move a mountain and mountains (yes they do; look it up) move when they want to, hence how when you get inside the wall through the closet—he’s not where you last spoke to him.

✮ You aren’t happy, you let him know that the game has to end. You threaten no goodnight kisses to show you were serious. He didn’t like that. Suddenly, you're wrapped in his beef arms, pressed to his chest as he stares at you silently. Where the hell did he come from?

✮ “Brahms sorry. He’ll be a good boy now.”