#she knows he isn't all bad‚ and she knows (if not in her head yet‚ then in her heart) that he wasn't lying to her that day

[dilf-docs]

All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!! use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me), pedro wearing a skirt tehee

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace frenetic.

"I miss your tummy" you pout.

"I miss eating too" he whispers out, tiredly. He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

"No matter how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who she totally notices the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

Drowning his sorrow until he forget

Warning ⚠️; Alcohol abuse, grief, Shanks getting drunk Spoiler for Red

Pairing; Shanks/Male!Reader

Summary; After such tragedy, Shank came to your island, to your bar in the hope of forgetting. You can only watch him lose himself in your bottles as he denies the reality. You can do nothing, but watch and listen.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The rain fell heavily against the window and the wind howled outside. As you dried your glasses, you watched the trees bend with each blow from the wind, wondering if they would break. Sometimes, lightning would strike, illuminating the sky before thunder would follow and you'd feel its rumble deep in your chest.

For a moment, you wondered if the sky was crying, grieving someone.

But it was ridiculous. The sky was just the sky, it had no feeling and no one would be important enough for it to cry. Yet, you felt a heaviness on your shoulders. Something had happened and you just didn't know what yet.

Your eyes fell on the Den Den Mushi and your mind turned to Shanks. It had been a while since you had seen him. Your lover, your boyfriend… he was something more, something that had no word. Yes, it had been a while since the last time he had come to see you.

Maybe you should give him a call, make sure everything was alright?

You didn't had to. The door to your pub opened abruptly even if it was locked. You turned your head, ready to curse and throw the intruder out only to be met with Shanks. The man stood tall, soaked to the bone. For the first time, you felt fear looking at him. His eyes were dead, empty and you knew, you just knew something bad had happened.

- “Shanks?” Your voice shook as you stepped from behind the counter and walked up to him. “What…”

- “I need a drink. The strongest you got.” He replied, walking pass you as if he didn't truly see you.

You blinked and turned to watch him sat at the counter, head low. You looked outside, expecting the rest of the crew, but there was no one else. You closed the door and went to serve Shanks.

Drink after drink, Shanks emptied your bottles with no sign of the alcohol affecting him. You tried to talk, make him tell you what happened, but the red-haired man stayed quiet. At some point, you took his wrist in your hand and squeezed it. Shanks’ empty eyes looked at you, through you.

- “Shanks, what happened?” You asked slowly, thumb drawing circles on his skin. “Talk to me, you worry me right now.”

- “Nothing. Nothing happened.” Shanks told you, but there was sadness in the emptiness of his voice.

- “Clearly, something did happen. Is the crew alright?”

- “They are all fine.”

You grew frustrated but said nothing. Whatever happened, it impacted Shanks like nothing else before, but if it wasn't the crew who was it? Luffy? No, if something had happened to him you would know, every papers, everyone would be talking about.

It wasn't Ace or White Beard, the anniversary of their death wasn't close.

Besides you and Luffy, Shanks didn't had anyone else…

His daughter.

Uta.

You felt your blood turn to ice at the thought of something happening to his daughter. She was his treasure and he did and sacrificed so much for her. You couldn't imagine a world were she wasn't there even if she must be angry at him.

Your eyes met Shanks’ and he looked down on his drink before he drank it all in one gulp.

Yes. Something had happened to Uta.

- “Uta… its Uta isn't it?”

Under your fingers, you felt him tensing up. It wasn't flesh under your touch, but stone. Shanks’ eyes turned dark, darker than you ever saw, even if it only lasted for a second before sadness replaced it, then emptiness again. He shook his head and freed his wrist from your grip as he took the bottle and drank from it.

- “Uta is fine. She is fine… she’s always going to be fine.” Shanks mumbled like a broken disk.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin against his head and closed your eyes. You had no words, not knowing what to say anymore. His reaction was all you needed to know you were right, but his made it impossible to know just how bad the situation was.

Was Uta alive?

Was she... dead?

In your embrace, you felt Shanks relax, melt even as he rested his head against your chest. You passed your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. And for hours you stayed like that, Shanks drinking in your arms and you just cuddling him, trying to make him feel better.

As he got drunker Shanks began reminiscing about the past. Like the day he found Uta, the same way Roger had found him. His first meeting with Luffy and the day he introduced Uta to him. The first time she sang, the day she ate her devil fruit and all the little things he was proud of her.

You felt his shoulders shake before you realized he was crying. You held him tighter, nuzzling your nose in his hair and closed your eyes, just letting him talk. Shanks let go of the bottle he was drinking, his hand finding your arm and he squeezed it, hard. Hard enough that you knew he would leave a mark.

- “It's my fault. Always my fault. I just fuck up all the time and hurt her when I just want to protect her.” Shanks whispered, voice breaking through his sobs.

You held him tighter, hands clenching at his clothes. He buried his face in the crook of your shoulder, now crying silently and you knew. You just knew.

Uta was no longer alive and, somehow, Shanks was part of the reason.

You didn't had to ask how or what happened to her, Shanks told you himself. He explained about what she did, what she wanted to do and how she ate that damned mushroom that prevented her from sleeping. She had refused the antidote and broke the bottle.

A shiver ran down your spine at the thought of sweet Uta doing all that, plunging people in a deep sleep and controlling them with her singing. It was horrifying and so much unlike her. But it had been years since you last saw your stepdaughter after all. People change as they grow up.

But Uta?

You looked down, taking in the poor state in which Shanks was. Empty bottles surrounded the both of you and your reserve was now almost completely empty, but you didn't care. You brushed your fingers in his hair and Shanks looked up at you, eyes as red as his hair and puffy.

- “It wasn't your fault, Shanks. Uta was a grown woman, she knew better. She was old enough to make her choices.” You said, trying to keep your voice soft. Shanks tried to speak, but you put a finger on his lips to keep him quiet. “You made your choices and they had consequences, yes, but they didn't put her in danger. You kept her safe, safe away from the Gorosei and the World Government, but also from your enemies. Should you have told her the truth? Maybe, but she was a small child Shanks. She would have taken it like she was a monster.”

Your fingers brushed his lips and cheek and Shanks nuzzled his face in your hand. You stroke his cheek with your thumb, resting your forehead against his as he closed his eyes.

- “I am sorry. So, so sorry my love for what happened to her, but you did your best. You are a good dad.” You said, lips brushing against his. “At last, in the end, she forgave you. She loved you as much as you loved her.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks and you dried them. Seeing Shanks so sad, so broken, you hated it. You wanted to wrap him in a warm blanket and keep him in your arms forever. But you couldn't shield him from the pain of losing his child. You could only offer him support.

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him. Shanks wrapped his arm around you, hand squeezing your hip.

- “C’mon. Enough drinking for now, because I don't have much left for you. Let's get you a warm bath, you are in need of it.”

Shanks nodded and didn't resist when you led him upstairs. You made sure the water was hotter than warm, pouring in oils and bubbles for him to relax. You helped Shanks in after undressing him, your fingers brushing over some bruises as he sat in the bath.

His expression was still empty, broken and you knew it would be a long journey for him to get better. You thought about closing the pub and following him on his adventures. Maybe by being by his side you could help him.

You took your time washing Shanks’ body and hair. All that time, your lover said nothing and just looked down. His body was tense, muscles hard as if he was ready to bounce and fight, but there was no danger. You massaged his shoulders and slowly, Shanks relaxed once again.

You gave more attention to his missing arm, massaging what was left of it. Your fingers traced the scars and you remembered the day he came to you, hiding it as if you would think less of him. You had, of course, been horrified at first, thinking something horrible had happened. But when he told you the story, you had only laughed.

As you massaged what was left of his arm, Shanks turned his head and looked at you. He had a small but soft smile on his lips as if he was amused. You looked at him, chuckling.

- “What?” You asked with a chuckle

- “Sometimes I feel like you love that arm more than me.” He said, drunk, but clearly amused.

You flicked his forehead and laughed.

- “Its part of you, you idiot. Of course, I love it as much as I love you.” You replied, caressing his neck.

Getting Shanks out of the bath proved to be one hell of a task. He was drunker than earlier, the alcohol finally catching with him, meaning he was as graceful as a tree rolling down a hill and so limp it was like holding a plastic bag full of water.

But you managed to dry him up and get him to bed. You wrapped Shanks like a sad burrito in warm blankets before laying down next to him. Shanks had closed his eyes, but you could tell he was still awake.

- “I am not going anywhere.” You whispered, fingers brushing his face. “Give me a few days to close the pub and I’ll follow you.”

That got Shanks attention and he opened his eyes. They were clouded by alcohol, but also hopeful. You smiled, fingers brushing his lips as he spoke softly.

- “Really?”

- “Yeah. You, me, the crew… up for a new adventure. Been years since I took off, you'll have to give me some slack and a place in your bed.”

He laughed. A true laugh coming from deep in his chest as he nodded. Pulling his good arm out of the burrito, he took your hand and you squeezed it gently.

His heart and soul were broken, but you were hopeful he would get better soon. You fell asleep at the same time as him, knowing you made the right choice.

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - one (j.yh)

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

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

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

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 17.9k

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

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

“Fuck,” You breathe, “hey,” 

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

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

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

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I guess.” 

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

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

“Thank you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” He checks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?” He tilts his face up to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” He hums and stays relaxed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” He laughs, “of course, yeah,” 

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

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

The tattoo on your chest feels warm beneath your blouse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s yours. 

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

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

“You didn’t?” His hand falls. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head, “No,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A soulmate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His shoulders relax just a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” You assure him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good,” You nod, “don’t worry,” 

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

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

“Am I good?” Yunho checks. 

Your eyes flick over him fast, “Yep,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He really is yours. 

It turns out that later means much later. 

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

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

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

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

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

A soft knock at the door makes your stomach lurch. 

You’re frozen. 

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

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

“I waited,” You manage. 

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

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

He nods, “Come to my room?” 

“Are you sure?” Your eyes widen. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the heavy door shuts behind you, you sigh. 

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

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

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

“It feels pretty real,” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You what?” Your eyebrows raise. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Completely,” He nods, “did yours?” 

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

“Does it feel,” He starts.

“Warm?” 

“Yes,” He nods, “and tender?” 

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

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

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

“You want to see it?” He surmises. 

“Only if you’re comfortable,” 

His lips quirk, “I’m comfortable,”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

He shakes his head, “Not before today,” 

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

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

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

“You feel that?” He asks, “Right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it always feel like that?” 

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

He smiles, “Your sister found her soulmate?” 

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

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

“Younger,” You say.  

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

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

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

Your heart quickens and you nod. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Your voice is thready. 

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

“Yes,” You agree, painfully quickly. 

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

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

You wonder what more will feel like. 

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

You nod. 

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

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

“You can feel that?” 

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

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

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

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

“Feel alright?” He murmurs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He feels so right, so essential under your touch. 

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

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

“Yunho,” You shiver. 

“Cold?” He gravitates a little closer. 

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

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

His lips are on yours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to slow down,” He manages. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Overwhelming,” You nod, exhaling softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You straighten up again, finding his eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your tight hands uncurl. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s yours. 

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

“This is real,” You murmur. 

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

“You’re mine,” 

“Yes,” He grins. 

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

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

“Together,” You nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is nice,” You smile. 

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

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

“It is,”

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

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

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

 “I had no idea,” 

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” You perk up, “Who?” 

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

You sigh, letting his softness calm you again. 

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

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

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

That wakes you up. 

Your eyebrows raise, “Stay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With me?” His eyebrows raise. 

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

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

“It is what it is,” 

“Are your parents soulmates?” He asks softly. 

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

You watch his eyes widen in surprise. 

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

“For status?” He surmises. 

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

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

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

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

“It could,” 

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

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

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

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

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

Your smile at his warm expression. 

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

Your throat constricts, tears threatening for a moment. 

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

“Very,”

“I’d like to meet her,” He smiles. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

“She’s funny,” He smirks. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Your eyes feel heavy. 

“Yeah,” He kisses your forehead. 

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

“Mhm,” He yawns too, “me too, jagi,” 

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

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

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

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

Nuzzled against his tattoo, you drift.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Naive is what it is,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long?” Seonghwa manages. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Yunho laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mouth feels dry. 

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

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

You both wait. 

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

Yunho nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” Yunho curses. 

You both slept straight through Yunho’s alarm. 

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

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

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

Did you already get up and get ready?

Your work bag is still here…

Not funny, girl, where are you?

Did you make it back last night? 

Can you answer me?? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seonghwa huffs a laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With some guy?” She stands. 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” You say again. 

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

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

“Iseul,” Your cheeks heat. 

She points at you, “I’m right!” 

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

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

“I can’t,” You press, “leave it,” 

“Why are you being so weird?” 

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

“I’m not letting this go,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” 

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

“Fine,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You miss him. 

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

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

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

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

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

So you’re as awake as I am? 

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

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

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

Nope - You tease back. 

Was she upset? - He asks. 

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

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

How was Seonghwa? - You tap out. 

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

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

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

That’s good - You send back. 

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

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

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

Why’s that? - You tease him. 

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

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

So who did she guess? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exactly - You reply. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your thighs press together - Yunho?

Yes, jagi?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you have headphones? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want me? - You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

I was tossing and turning. 

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

You send him another emoji, the blushing face. 

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

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

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

Wearing? 

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

I asked you first.

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

A heavy sigh passes through your lips. 

“And you?” 

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

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

Me too 

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

Me either - You confess. 

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

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

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

You message him one last thought - What about you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” You murmur in a whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s good, that’s so good,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Uh-huh,” You manage. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” He murmurs, “you okay?” 

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

He hums, a quiet, lazy laugh, “Ah,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, baby?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” 

“Are your headphones still in?” He asks

“No, but I can switch back,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (a Valentino production)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

tags: Alastor x reader, smut, dubcon, mentions of assault (Val intended to "fuck you to death”), Val's existence, overstimulation, forced (?) orgasms, bondage (shadow tentacles), choking (sexy kind, not murdery kind), cervix wrecked, your aunt is a bitch

(author's note: I've been in Japan for like 7 years and my English has suffered, but your fucking smutty writing on this site has inspired me to write for the first time in years.)

Minors DNI

Angel burst into the hotel lobby, winded. “Please, you gotta do somethin’!” 

To the surprise of everyone, he ran straight to Alastor, tears forming in his eyes.

“Val’s gonna hurt her real bad. I don’t know who else to ask, please. I can't—-“ he cradled his head in his hands, “I can't watch him break any more people.”

Alastor didn’t seem to react at first, but Charlie appeared at Angel’s side and pulled him into a hug, “Angel, take a deep breath. He’s gonna hurt who? What’s wrong?”

“He got a new soul. Some fucking cultist offered her up as sacrifice. But she's not dead yet Charlie—- he dragged her down here alive.” His voice cracked, “He wantsta— he said he’s gonna fuck her to death on camera and wait for her to respawn in hell. He’s convinced he’ll make a fortune off the tapes. Please, for fuck’s sake someone has to do something.”

A human in hell? Well, that was something interesting after all. With a raised brow Alastor spoke, “And how exactly can I help this poor, unfortunate soul?”

“Make a deal or– rip his arms off, I don’t fuckin’ know! There has to be something you can offer Val worth her soul. I’d give you my soul if I could!”

Well that’d be worthless.

But a human? A living, breathing human? Intriguing.

“Alastor you have do something. This isn't right! Hell isn’t for the living.” Charlie’s hair flew upward as her eyes flashed red for a second, “I’ll repay it somehow.”

Well there's no harm in taking a look. 

The demons and sinners who saw Alastor walking into the Vee’s tower oscillated between fleeing for their lives and live tweeting the event. Either a truce or a war would be breaking out and they knew they’d be fucked regardless.

“Alastooor”, Val exhaled,  letting the name drag out lazily, “Come to ruin something, I’m sure.” Val hadn’t seen Alastor since his fight with Vox 7 years ago, and he hadn’t expected to see him in his studio— ever. 

“Ha! No, not today. Word got around that there's a special little guest hidden in your studio.” Alastor’s eyes darted about the room, uninterested in the various parts and bits of the actors changing.

Val glanced at Angel, who’d suspiciously returned some 30 minutes before Alastor appeared. 

“I didn’t say nothing, Val.” Angel’s hands went up in defense. “He came to me askin’ about her.”

“And what exactly do you want with my “little guest”?” Val dropped any pretense of politeness. 

Alastor leaned forward on his microphone, and with a pop of static he practically cooed, “To see the poor creature, of course.”

Val ashed his cigarette into a cameraman’s hair and walked off, “Fuck it, sure. She’s back here.”

The back room was dark, perhaps some would call it mood lighting but what mood exactly it conveyed fell somewhere between dungeon and power outage.

You sat on your knees in the center of a round bed. Arms held above your head by a large clip attached to wrist restraints. Your body swayed slightly, a long rope anchored to the ceiling and tied to the clip above you.  Your body was slightly suspended, knees barely making contact with the bed beneath you. The white nightgown you wore was bloodied and ripped at the collar, causing it to slip down your left shoulder. Jaw clenched, your eyes were covered with a red satin tie. 

Alastor took the scene in. Your lip was cut and swollen, bruises peppered your cheek and exposed shoulder. Yet, you were breathing heavily, like a bull about to rush them. You were clearly defenseless, but somehow still defiant. His smile grew to his ears. It had been decades since he had a human in such a prone state.

“Have you …. broken her in yet?” He asked delicately, eyes never leaving your face.

“Nah, just roughed her up a little. I want to capture her raw reaction on camera when she takes her first demon cock.” Valentino clenched his fist to emphasize the word “first”. 

Your head fell forward as you pulled down on your wrist restraints, a growl rising in your throat.

Alastor felt his breath get caught in his own, your nightgown riding slowly up your legs as you struggled. 

“Hey!” Val snapped his fingers in your direction. “Don’t embarrass me. Our guest came to see you. He’s considering making an offer for you, I’m sure, so say hello like a good girl.” Val rolled his eyes, “Sluts always fucking embarrassing me.”

You tried to gather enough saliva to speak, finding the taste of blood still on your tongue. “Fuck you and your friend.” barely made it from your chapped lips. When was your last drink of water? Last meal? How long had you been unconscious before this all began?

“Not friends.” Alastor was quick to retort, “The name’s Alastor, my dear. It’s a pleasure.”

You sneered, a pleasure? What a sick joke. 

“Alastor.” you repeated it, disdain dripping from your lips.

The absolute contempt with which you said his name did something to him. His eyes darted from your mouth back to your inner thighs, exposed from the rising dress. Your mouth was so rude but your body looked so sweet. A little lamb– no, a doe.  

“Say it again.” It wasn’t a request, Alastor himself was surprised to hear himself say it with such demand.

You thrashed. “Oh is that what gets you off? You wanna hear your name in my mouth?” You said mockingly. “You’re just as FUCKED as him.” The nightgown rode up even further. Alastor’s tongue stuck to his teeth as his mouth went dry. Had you been delivered to Val without panties? Offered to him in just this sheer cotton night dress? What was happening to him…

 Static bit your skin as a low hum filled the room. 

“Say it.” Alastor’s voice dropped an octave, eyes suddenly taking on a slight glow. You couldn’t see the danger before you, but you felt it. Something primal in you knew you were in the presence of a predator.

No, you couldn’t see him, but his presence was pressing in all around you. 

“Alastor.” You seethed, “ALASTOR.” Pulling down on the restraints yet again you tried to find the strength to stand, “ALASTOR! ALASTOR!!” Your legs buckled under you having gone numb hours ago, his name devolving into a gutteral scream. All of your anger and despair ripped from your chest as you shouted his name. The nightgown had now ridden to your hips but you couldn’t find an ounce of shame in you to care. 

You were so full of rage, so defiant still. You were so…. alive.

He felt the blood rushing to his crotch in an all together forgotten sensation, and knew immediately his decision. “Let’s make a deal.” His eyes didn’t leave you, but Valentino knew he was talking to him.

Val let out a laugh, “I have some time to waste while they finish the set. Why not.”

Seated in his personal quarters, Val motioned for Alastor to sit opposite him. You had been left in the dark of that room, only knowing you were alone when the static died down and the hair on the nape of your neck relaxed. 

“Listen, Radio Demon. There’s nothing you have that could tempt me to hand over the little bitch.” His long arms rested over the back of his sofa, a heart shaped puff of smoke leaving his lips. Alastor swatted at the air as it approached. 

“What do you even need her for? You don’t deal in souls, but flesh. Surely you can find another toy to break on camera.” Alastor waved his microphone away.

“Hmm”, Val brought a finger to his chin in thought, seriously considering what Alastor could possibly offer him. “Oooh, I know.” His head lolled to the side,  “People have seen me fuck a thousand times. But no one’s ever even seen you with a partner. ‘Radio Demon fucks human sacrifice’” He motioned from left to right as if reading the words off an imaginary marquee, “Now THAT would make money. Real money. Fuck GOD levels of money.” A red liquid leaked from his lips as they were stretched across clenched teeth, his hips involuntarily humped at the air, “oh fuck. Yes. You do the porn, and I’ll give her to you. Soul and body.”

Alastor was looking at Val but his mind was still in front of you, his name tumbling from your lips. The uninterrupted skin where your thighs met your hips. The desperation in your scream. How absolutely soft and fragile you were. He adjusted his hips, trying to calm the twitching of his cock at the thought of you helplessly before him. 

“What exactly are you proposing?” His fingers came to rest entwined on his knee, one leg over the other.

“First, I have full rights to the video to do as I please.” Val counted out on his fingers, “The porno has to show penetration. No dry humping or some bullshit like that. I need you fucking that whore if I’m gonna sell this shit. Aaand”, A sickening grin grew on Valentino’s face, “She has to cum. And I’ll know if she’s faking it. If you don’t manage all three, the deal is off. I keep the human and all rights to the video for per— no, *in* pep-“ he sputtered, “perpur- forever! Fuck.” 

Alastor’s default grin was now so wide his gums could be seen peeking past his lips, his eyes flashing to dials, “It’s a deal.” He extended his hand to Valentino as he stood. A green light was shining from the open palm but Val shook it regardless, confident the deal's conditions wouldn’t be met. He’d seen a lot of fucked up shit on his set, but the Radio Demon, famously uninterested in sex, wasn’t going to make a battered human cum. How stupid could Alastor be, he thought. And he’ll have the video of Alastor failing to please someone to broadcast all over the pride ring and beyond. “May I have a moment alone with her before the filming?”

Val rolled his eyes, “yeah but don’t fuck her off camera.”

The sudden feeling of a hand on your hip startled you so intensely you let out a yelp. 

“Hello, my little doe.” Hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, then your neck, then your collar bone… “Unfortunately your shoot will still continue today. But if you do as I say, I promise you’ll leave the studio alive.”

You felt the nightgown being tugged back down your hips, hiding your exposed sex.

“I will be taking that pompous moth’s place. I will be as gentle as I can, but he will want to see you suffer. You must still fight me, must act pained. Can you play along?”

Your eyes darted behind your eyelids. He sounded— gentle? His voice was soft against your skin. Maybe he was truly the lesser evil of the two. You nodded. You’d heard all the gory details of what the other demon had planned for you, this sounded infinitely more tolerable. You dare thought you’d suffered worse before. 

“And, one more little caveat, darling. I will bring you to orgasm, so please don’t fight so hard as to delay your release.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until his words punched you in the gut. 

“I-“

“Yes?” Alastor’s mouth was nearly on your neck, his smile ghosting your skin.

“I’ve never—- I mean I can only do that by myself. No one else has managed to-“

A large hand patted your head, cutting your train of thought off. How big was he? His hands could palm a basketball. Could he really be gentle? Was he capable of it? Were those hands going to be on you soon? Your mind was running away with the thought of this strange demon fucking you on camera. 

“Oh don’t worry about that. Just focus on your performance. We have to put on a good show!”

Angel was practically chewing his fingers off as he watched the crew finish the set.

“Alastor what the fuck, I thought you were gonna help her!”

“I am, my effeminate friend. Have a little faith in me.” He adjusted his bowtie and took his place on set.

“I have none. I have negative faith, Alastor. Fuuuuck”, Angel slumped against the wall behind him and sank to the floor. 

The stage was set. A red sigil was painted on the floor of a cabin, candles lit around the room as the only source of light (except the stage lighting hanging above the scene). Of the three walls they’d made, the far left wall had an altar haphazardly filled with flowers, a golden bowl, and small plaid satchel.

Someone — something? — led you by the restraints to the stage. Blindfolded, you were pushed down to the floor, forced to sit on your still numb legs. The leather cuffs on your wrist were unbuckled, allowing you to flex your hands. When you reached for the blindfold a hand smacked at yours.

“No no, keep it. I want you to look exactly how I found you.” The familiar voice of Val instructed. 

Someone handed a script to Alastor, but he pulled his hands away from the demon as if the paper itself was an angelic weapon, “Oh, no thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

“I’ll tell you what to say” Val said, clearly to you.

“It’s—- it’s fine. I’ll just do it like before. I don’t need any help.”

You really didn’t.  There was no improv needed. You could repeat exactly what you said yesterday evening when you awoke on the floor of an unfamiliar place. You’d been visiting your aunt one moment, and alone in a weird room what felt like moments later. Groggy, but alert enough to know something bad had happened. 

You heard “action”, and then silence. You could feel eyes on you.

“Aunt Sara….” You whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happened… Are you still there?” You rubbed your wrists trying to regain some blood flow, readjusting your legs to do the same. 

You heard a strange sound, both yesterday and now. 

“Aunt Sara isn’t here. She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.” The way Alastor said it, the way his breath seemed to almost hitch, surprised you. Something cold touched your ankle, causing you to flinch, “But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

You felt that something-unknown snake up your leg toward your center. Crawling backwards on your butt to create some distance you collided with the altar. The golden bowl rolled to the edge and spilled its contents across the table. You could smell the iron tang of blood before you felt the pitter patter on your shoulder. Alastor inhaled quickly before letting the air back out with as much control as he could manage.

“Who are you?!” You’d asked this already. But this time the disembodied voice of your captor replied, “Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet you.”

The right side of your face smacked against the floor of the makeshift cabin as you were dragged suddenly across the room and into the red sigil. The cold appendage on your leg now tightly coiled up your calf.

“No— you have to fuck her with your fucking dick! You can’t use shadow tentacles!” Val shouted, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Now now, the deal didn’t specify with what, only that penetration must occur. Plus, I won’t show up on your video recording device anyway.” Alastor took several steps back, ensuring he was not in frame, “Rest assured, your audience will know it is me.” His words cracked and stuttered like someone had changed the station midway through his sentence.

A small, “fine, whatever.” was grumbled and the scene continued, the tentacle snaking its way up your thigh as Alastor chuckled softly at how you flinched against him.

You rolled onto your stomach and tried to kick off the shadow but it held firm. Letting out a groan you used your hands to drag yourself back towards the altar. Before you could reach the table your other leg felt the pressure of a new tentacle twist around your knee as you were dragged back toward the Radio demon once again.

Your nightgown was forced up, your ass now exposed and in the air as your legs were pulled open. That was as far as you had really gone yesterday, before a flash of light delivered you into the Pentagram City studio. 

Surprisingly, you felt embarrassed, self conscious knowing there were other people in this room. But as if he could read your mind, or perhaps just noticed the tremble in your legs, Alastor softly said, “It’s only us now, darling. There’s nowhere to hide.”

Third and fourth appendages appeared around your waist and neck. Effortlessly your hips were lifted off the floor, your cunt on full display to the man who now owned you. The tentacle on your neck slipped between your shoulder blades and pressed your chest firmly to the floor. You squirmed and struggled against the restraints but only accomplished to draw another chuckle from Alastor.

“Relax. We have forever, after all. We can take our time.”

You felt pressure at your entrance, and your pleas to stop were cut short as a shadow tentacle pushed its way inside you. It was cold, but quickly began to warm as your heat enveloped it. Your body was resisting it, too tight to take it all in one thrust, but you could feel it slick against your lips easily enough to make its way inside.

“Ooh, my dear, your wet little cunt betrays you.” He cocked his head to the side, antlers doubling then tripling in size, “Have my words affected you so much?”

You could feel the tentacle’s shape shift slightly inside you as if it were adjusting to you and not the other way around. True to his word, there was no pain except from the burning stretch of your hole against the girth of his shadow self.

Hissing, you thrashed against the sigil, “get OFF OF ME!” Pushing against the floor you barely got your shoulders an inch off the ground when you felt a nth appendage graze sloppily over your clit. You stilled, suddenly remembering your end of the deal. Your promise to the demon now circling your clit with his shadow. If you couldn’t do this, then the entire filming was for nothing.

“Don’t forget to breath. I can’t have you dying on me just yet, sweetheart.” The static was slowly building in the air around you again, a silent threat.

Your hand shot to your mouth, trying to smother the depraved sounds being fucked out of you. The tentacle in your pussy was now ramming against your cervix, curving and bending as it repeatedly forced its way in and out of you. The room was quiet, except for the slick, sticky sound of the tentacle coated in your fluids pulling nearly completely out of you before smashing back in. The pace was slow and cruel, but the pressure on your clit was fast and hard. Your mind was starting come undone, your thoughts splintering. You couldn’t focus on anything anymore, all over your body was pressure, pleasure, massaging, pushing, and pulling. 

“Ah ah, that won’t do.” Alastor practically sang the words as an appendage pulled your hands from your mouth and brought them to the small of your back. 

You whimpered, trying to find a balance between the overstimulation and the need to not let them see how much you were getting off on this. You needed to hate it more. Hate him more. Your cheek stuck to the wood of the floor as drool leaked from your open mouth, unable to keep it closed any longer. 

“I’ll—” Your strength was nearly gone, but you managed to knock your upper body around the sigil, smearing the still wet blood across your chest. You only managed to whisper into the flooring a quiet, “I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

The tentacles stopped, for a second you felt tears sting your eyes at the loss of friction. A loud screech made you wince, but you had no time to question it as your body was violently flipped. Your hips were slammed down onto the ground, held tightly by a tentacle around your waist. The back of your head ached as it was jostled in the turn. The shadows on your thighs now seemed determined to bruise you as they constricted around your skin. 

“What was that, dear?” The tentacle in your pussy seemed to swell inside you, the force of the thrusts picking up in intensity. He was ramming into your body with such fervor you felt the skin of your ass chaffing on the wooden grain beneath you.  “Speak up, now”, you heard him exhale forcefully, his controlled appearance hanging on by a thread.

“I-”, your mouth opened to continue your resistance when a new sensation stopped you. A second tentacle was trying to squirm its way into your heat, just above the now uncomfortably thick one twisting around inside of you. The pressure on your stomach from the force made you feel sick, but the devoted ministrations on your clit had your legs twitching against the restraints. “Ah–! no, wai-” It managed to slip itself into you, and with no hesitation it was pressing against your g-spot in a matching rhythm to the tentacle swiping over your swollen clit.

You’d never before made a sound like the one that was pulled from your throat. It was ugly and animalistic and took you by surprise. Still struggling to catch your breath, you threw your head back. You were losing control. As your body was rocked against the ground, the blindfold got caught in the friction and slipped down your nose. 

Bringing your head back up, you finally locked eyes with your new master. 

“Alas-” Another chilly tentacle came to your neck and began to lightly squeeze. You could only breathe out the rest of his name as your eyes met with his. He stood some feet from you, just outside of the sigil, barely on the set at all. He seemed nonplussed, antlers looming over you and suit perfectly neat, except one detail. His pupils dilated when you finally set your eyes onto his. The grip on your neck only stopped tightening when you stomped your foot down in fear of passing out. You didn’t break eye contact, a fire burning in you that told him no matter what he did you wouldn’t be broken. That look in your eyes, the contempt mixed with overwhelming pleasure made Alastor shift one foot in front of the other in an effort to better conceal the erection straining against the zipper of his pants. 

“Mmmhhh–” You finally broke contact as your eyes rolled back into your head, the pressure beneath your belly was building, a tightness threatening to snap. But this wasn’t like before, this wasn’t like when you were alone in your bed with your own hand. It felt like too much, your heart was pounding so hard you thought you’d really die. There was no way your body could continue this much longer, your heart would surely give out.

“Please–” You needed him to stop, the ghostly hand on your throat, the two tentacles pressing against your cervix and g-spot, the unrelenting pressure on your clit. It was too much, it was too sensitive. “I’m sorry, please. Pleeea-” you gritted your teeth, thighs twitching as the muscles in your core tightened.

“Going to cum, my little doe?” Through gritted teeth of his own Alastor asked you as if you had any choice in the matter. He forced your knees up to your shoulders, allowing the tentacles to reach new depths. 

“AaaaHH” You convulsed, “I’m yours, Alastor!” You moaned, willing to say anything to stop the overwhelming feeling as the coil snapped, you were orgasming on this demon’s shadow and for the love of all that was unholy he wouldn’t fucking let up. You did what he said, but he wasn’t stopping. His thrusts didn’t slow, your clit was throbbing and your body shaking uncontrollably. All defiance was dead, your fire snuffed out. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused. Your head hit the floor again as you struggled to keep your thoughts straight, “It’s all yours. My soul is yours! Please- sto-” Another orgasm was being fucked out of you, no recovery from the first. “I can’t, I can’t” Your jaw locked, the way your cunt was spasming and tightening around his shadow appendages nearly pushed them out of your body with the strength of your first forced orgasm. The lights in the room flickered and popped, the candles blew out with a sudden gust, static drowned out your voice from everyone but Alastor as you screamed through the second orgasm. A green light erupted from the smeared sigil beneath you, blinding the crew and onlookers. “My body is yours! My soul! It’s all yours. I give you all of me, Alastor! Alastor!!” Your vision went spotty, and your throat seemed to close around your voice. Your face was red with the strain of your orgasm. You’d never felt unrelenting pleasure like that before and in that moment you’d have given him absolutely anything he wanted from you. Everything. It was his. You were his. He owned you inside and out.

The bullying of your cunt finally calmed after your orgasm began to edge away, your breath no longer stuck in your throat. He didn’t stop, but he slowed down to a lazy pace as what few lights managed to survive flickered back to life. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you looked over your wrecked body to Alastor. His eyes were wild, his bangs damp and clinging to his forehead. His smile was manic, sinister almost. He looked truly demonic. A wave of fear carried a chill down your spine.

The tentacles withdrew, the sudden loss making you feel colder somehow now than before. They had taken on your own heat and matched your temperature so perfectly, now your body felt empty. You felt naked. Your cunt was still clenching, but around nothing at all. It felt…like something was missing now. Your body seemed to be upset at the loss of contact. It made your stomach turn.

You flinched when the radio demon approached you, but instead of tearing you to pieces like his grin had promised, he slipped his suit jacket off and laid it over your body. You hadn’t realized the dress was torn and lying beneath you in a wet pile of blood and sweat. The confusion must have been evident on your face, because Alastor’s appearance shifted. Antlers now small, if not tiny between his ears. His eyes a red and pink, lids half closed. His smile was just a line across his face, no teeth at all. He looked like a gentleman, had you not known what he had just done to your pussy you’d have thought him incapable of such impropriety. 

“Good job, my little doe.” He whispered before you were handed a glass of water by a tall stranger. 

“Wow, you’re kind of natural at this babe. I haven’t seen a performance like that in ages.  Are you okay?” You took the water from him but didn’t open your mouth to reply, instead transfixed on his appearance. You’d only seen Val and Alastor until now. “You can call me Angel. We’ll get you home soon. I swear.”

Your eyes flitted to Alastor’s, did he know? He must have, he must have felt it. Of course he knew. In those final moments, you hadn’t been acting. Not an ounce of your pleasured responses were disingenuous. Not a single word a lie.

Alastor helped you to your feet as Angel placed a robe over your shoulders. Alastor hummed as he put his jacket back on, a satisfied sound coming from his chest that almost sounded like a song. 

Val sat in his director’s chair with his legs crossed, mouth open. His cigarette was mostly ash, delicately lingering on the stub.

Alastor placed a hand on the small of your back as you were guided to the door. Looking over his shoulder he grinned to Val, “It seems our deal is done here, Valentino. She’s mine, in perpetuity.”

(Part two)

༻Masterlist༺

[phantomantz]

finished s4 today and here are some questions I still have

-WHAT HAPPENED TO SLOANE???

-why on earth did raymond "I would take my year with you over a lifetime with someone else" chestnut just leave allison?? like I get if the actor couldn't/didn't want to be in the season but they could have at least come up with an explanation

-why did luther get his ape body back, its not connected to his powers at all. they just did it to make two bad jokes didn't they

-why did some of them get different/upgraded powers but luther and diego didn't?

-when klaus was shot and allison gave him the marigold why didn't he just stay dead? s3 established he has a choice in whether he comes back to life

-what is durango even supposed to be? reginald says that jennifer is more powerful than all of them put together but thats only if she comes into contact with them right?

-HOW DID SHE GET IN THE SQUID

-how did five start the commission

-there was a total of 43 marigold children and yet we only ever meet like 16 of them. who are the others?? Also wouldn't their marigold also have to be absorbed to reset the timeline? Unless it did all get absorbed off screen somehow

-if jennifer was so dangerous why didn't reginald just kill her instead of building an entire town to keep her trapped... i know he wouldn't have had a problem with it.

-also this is more reginald just being stupid but why on earth would he send his kids with MARIGOLD on a mission where he knew a girl with DURANGO would be when he knows if they just made contact it would end the world. ALSO ALSO reginald was literally there so why didn't he just blow her up himself!!?? this shit gets dumber the more i think about it

-five says that the day they were born the timeline shattered or whatever but isn't that just his fault? he's the one with the time travel powers so without him there would be no way to create other timelines. wouldn't it have made more sense for just five to sacrifice himself then...? I guess Viktor would have still ended the world but the commission literally wanted the world to end in that timeline so what's the deal

-how could claire and diegolilas kids still be alive when their parents never existed. that would've created another grandfather paradox according to this shows logic but nope!

-oh yeah and what was the deal with the ben on the train at the end of s3 ... Literally had nothing to do with anything

thats all i can think of rn... I'm sure theres more but... my head hurty. if anyone has an explanation to any of these lmk

[sincerelybubbles]

ok shy bau reader and the team finally managed to get her to come a rossi dinner party so she can meet the rest of the team families that she hasn’t met yet, maybe after her first date with hitch and the team realized quickly she softened very fast with the kids and jack and her just seemed to click really fast and jack had her talking more than any of the team has so far… hotch is star eyes

hotch x shy!bau!reader \\ Dinner and Delights

Warnings: brief mention/allusions to Christianity. Otherwise, fluff! More insight into what Aaron is thinking :) I got very carried away, I hope you enjoy <3

"Woah hot stuff, where are you going so fast?" Morgan intercepts you with an arm around your shoulder as you attempt to slip out of the BAU unnoticed. "Hopefully to get ready for our big dinner plans?"

It's not that you don't want to go to one of Rossi's famous dinner parties, you're just afraid that your sub-par social skills would be noticeable by tenfold in a more casual environment.

At work, you can hide your quietness by talking about the psychology of the unsub, your specialty as a licensed psychologist. You can pretend you're not hiding in your shell when the team is all laughing and talking about personal lives by quietly listening while pretending to read your maps and journals. You can observe them and spend time with them, because you do truly love them all at this point, without feeling bad that you prefer to listen over talk.

And that's really it - you prefer to listen to them. You would say you've all but warmed up to all of them. You like Morgan's teasing, Emily's stories, Reid's rambling, Rossi's sarcasm, and Hotch's...

Everything, but the thought snaps you back to the present before you can dwell on memories of a sweet date in a dark restaurant.

"Of course," you succeed, nodding and sending him a tight-lipped smile.

"Hey," he slows you down and stops in the hallway, turning you to face him gently before lifting his hands in a placating gesture as if you were an animal he expects to run. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with but I promise none of us are trying to lead our little lamb to slaughter. We know you're quiet," the admission embarrasses you and makes you feel guilty pleasant that he sounds so gentle about it, "and nobody minds, I think it's cute and I think the rest are just happy our other genius isn't as vocal as Reid."

Your nose scrunches at the small dig and you open your mouth to protest at putting Reid down to lift you up.

"And look at that! Another thing we all love - you're quiet but won't let anyone say anything about the other behind their back. You're a good person, we all just want to spend some less-intense time with you. So, go home and doll yourself up, and get ready to see Hotch wine tipsy. We all know that's your main motivator." Morgan winks at you and moves quickly down the hall and away from you, laughing, before you can protest.

He's not wrong, though, and you shake your head as you move toward the elevator.

You end up on Rossi's doorstep, choking the neck of a bottle of expensive wine between two sweaty palms. Your heart is in your throat, nerves humming in anticipation.

Your team cares about you. Nobody expects you to be anything you're not. Gentle affirmations meant to soothe over your skin in gently lapping waves erupt into steam; like water hitting lava rock. You're too tense, too worried about not saying enough or too much; saying the wrong thing or saying the right thing only once and never living up to the expectation of repeated occurrences.

"Hey," Emily says from behind you. You turn to see her jogging up to stand beside you, brushing off her pants and adjusting her jacket. "You brought wine!" She cheers happily, reaching past you to turn the nob and open the door.

She gestures you inside, making no comment about your obvious hesitance. With her by your side, your nerves are calmed. Aside from Aaron, she's the easiest for you to be around. You don't feel any expectations with Emily. She doesn't talk too much or too little, doesn't push, doesn't ever send a pitying look when you opt out of activities outside of work.

"Château Lafite," you say to her, lifting the wine and shaking it gently in the air as you walk inside.

"Oh! Fancy wine."

"Wine?" Rossi asks, rounding a corner. He's dressed slightly more casually in a soft sweater and jeans, drying his hands off with a pristine dish towel. "The more the merrier, bring it in here."

You follow his gesture back into the kitchen, leaving Emily to go to what you presume is the living or dining area.

"Where did you find this?" Rossi asks, taking the wine from you to examine it and letting out a low whistle as he appreciates it.

"Just my local winery," you say, neglecting to admit that you go there often enough that the owner leaves the nicer stuff behind the counter for you.

Lonely nights crave wine, twisting them into lovely things you can appreciate. You enjoy your own company after years of quietly observing others. You've learned how to observe yourself, too, after all of these years.

And, even though you don't quite realize it, the self-awareness carries like confidence. That's what Aaron sees in you: observant eyes darting across a room and noticing everything, understanding flickering before anyone else catches a cue, deft movements across the paper while taking notes, and swift motions always with a purpose.

It's what he sees now, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans while he leans in the doorway of Rossi's kitchen, watching you. How could he not? You're a lovely creature, always begging for his eyes to settle on you for another second, and then another.

He knows the moment you realize he's in the room, minutes before Rossi. You stand straighter, tilt your chin lower, and are aware far before you tilt your head to the side to send him a soft smile. He returns it before Rossi can catch him. It's a warmth he wants to reserve for you.

"Dave," he interrupts the other man's monologuing about the wine he's sure you already know all about, "Jack would like to know if he and Spencer can use your chess set when he gets here?"

"Of course, I'll get it from my study." Rossi leaves, passing you the wine and gesturing to the opener.

Aaron steps in before you can start the process of opening the wine. He doesn't quite know why, but he wants to do it for you. He finds himself wanting that more and more recently: to do simple tasks for the sole purpose of you not having to do them. Opening doors and pulling out chairs are simple gestures that he did with Hayley, but he wants to do sillier, smaller, things, too. Straighten the pens on your desk back into their cup, reorganize the files on your desktop, untangle the wires of the headphones he really should reprimand you for using at your desk, open a damn bottle of wine he can't pronounce the name of but that he heard you say so gently to Emily as you walked in.

"Jack's here?" You ask, handing him the wine and crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter to watch him work.

He relishes how your eyes focus on his arms, pupils dilating, as his muscles work under his thin henley.

"Yes, I have him this weekend and he likes to spend time with Reid and Garcia."

He has to step closer to reach above you to get the wine glasses. He could ask you to step aside, tuck his hand against your waist to move you himself, or simply walk into the next room to grab the glasses sitting on the table. But, instead, he tucks one foot in between yours, puts one hand on the back of your head to guard it from the cabinet, and opens it to find the nicer crystal there.

Your breath hitches across his neck and he remembers the chaste kisses he's given you before. Nothing serious, nothing has been yet because he's waiting for you to lead him into that, but tantalizing nonetheless. He steps back to pour the wine, standing closer to you than he started.

A little for you, passed gently, and then a little for him. Dave could pour his own glass.

You take the wine and sip it slowly, tongue darting out to taste before you sip. He's reminded of communion as a child. The blood of christ, sacred, something to be tasted but not meant to satiate. Reverence in a sip, devotion in a small act.

He wants to give you the same thing. The desire hits him in the sternum, suddenly, leaving him winded as he watches you lower the glass. Your eyes are locked on his, you haven't seemed as hesitant about holding his gaze recently - something that makes him melt - and he wonders if you can feel how he wants to take care of you. How he wants to show you the same force that water uses to carve canyons. Persistence and pressure, time and care. He's willing to take his time, he's filled with the same patience as everything all together in nature. He's a rabbit perched on its hind legs, sniffing the wind for safety before darting forward; the bird hung in flight between beats of wings, the whisper of wind carrying small seeds miles away to wait and watch the growth. Wait, wait, wait, however long it takes, he's there. For you.

It's a strong feeling to fully realize in David Rossi's kitchen, but he's grateful for it, anyway.

"It's good," you comment softly, eyes smiling.

"Is it?" He asks, setting his glass down and retaking his spot nearer to you. He misses your warmth. "Can I?" He asks, brushing his fingers across your jugular before cupping your cheek.

"Taste the wine?" You tease, eyes flickering to his glass. The gentle jest pulls a chuckle from his chest. Another thing you've become more comfortable doing around him. His blood and bones sing at how familiar you can be with him.

"Yes," he says in a breath, dipping his head down to brush his lips against yours.

And you're reciprocating - you've always reciprocated, enthusiastically, just never in the pressing way you are now. You set down your own glass to hold his arms in both of your hands. Fingers dig into his arm as you sigh and open your mouth, new lands to explore, tilting your head back to grant him full access.

"Daddy?" Jack asks and Aaron pulls away, a man parched and staring at an oasis in the middle of a desert, before Jack can round the corner. He doesn't go far, though, hand traveling down to the small of your back as he turns.

"Jack?" Aaron replies, waiting for him to come around the corner.

"Hello," Jack says, stopping in the doorway and looking up at you with wide eyes.

You've met him a few times before, always in passing, but you still smile warmly and wave at him.

"Hi, Jack."

"Do you know how to play chess?" Jacks asks. Aaron smiles at the eagerness on his son's face.

"Yes, I do. Would you like to play?"

"Yes please!" Jack jumps forward to grab your hand, pulling you into the living room before you can react.

You go easily, though, following him with a gentle laugh that warms the coldest parts of him. Pieces of him he doesn't think have seen the light in years brighten at the sound. He's heard you laugh before but something about the sight of you laughing because of Jack illuminates needs that he didn't even know he had. Needs you're meeting before he can feel the yawning desire of them.

He follows, unable to resist the desire to see you two interact over and over again. You're setting up the board, listening to Jack chatter on, nodding intently.

[dramaticals]

DRAMIONE FIC RECS + WHY YOU SHOULD READ THEM — 100k+ words edition

hogwarts: a home by coralcollective — reimagined horcrux hunt. draco is so down bad for hermione and the smut is crazyyy. theo/hermione friendship. pansy is the breakout character and you'll love her. there's nsfw art and inappropriate use of the malfoy signet ring. please check the tags! (it says incomplete on ao3, but it's only missing epilogues so don't be afraid of starting it)

word count: 372,978

chapters: 67/70

the commoner's guide to bedding a royal by olivieblake — god, this fic!!!! it's a modern royal au and the ensemble of characters make this whole world feel so alive. it's inspired by will/kate and harry/meghan and it's sooo cute. theo and daphne were the breakout characters and i love them dearly. if you're looking for a lighthearted romcom-esque, occasionally angsty (because duh!) fic, this is it!!! i probably read this in two days which is insane considering the word count, but that should just tell you how lovely this whole fic was. there's a second part to this if you're itching for more afterwards (and it's just as good!)

word count: 503,570

chapters: 45/45

draco malfoy and the mortifying ordeal of being in love by isthisselfcare — honestly if you haven't read this yet..... this is god tier. a CLASSIC. this should be taught in the schools. hermione's a magical researcher / healer and draco's one of the best aurors out there. he's assigned to protect hermione because she's in the midst of a big discovery. hermione's not happy about it and draco isn't either. slow burn!! idiots in LOVE!! forced proximity!!!!! EMBEDDED ART!!! honestly this is the fic that made me want to learn how to bind which is so serious and if you haven't read this yet you need to.

word count: 199,548

chapters: 36/36

the disappearances of draco malfoy by speechwriter — this is my new canon. it's a deathly hallows rewrite where draco accepts dumbledore's offer to fake his death and go into hiding with the order. enemies to friends to lovers. i honestly can't even remember what happened in canon because this is IT for me.

word count: 289,780

chapters: 33/33

this world or any other series by olivieblake — includes clean (book one) and marked (book two). anything by olivieblake should be a must-read, i swear to god. this one starts as a year 6 slow burn. draco and hermione are assigned partners for potions and it all snowballs from there. olivie writes so beautifully and her characterizations for hermione / draco are so good. slight warning for marked: this destroyed me and i pretend it doesn't exist, but it's still a must-read.

word count: 118,892 & 178,268

chapters: 31/31 & 39/39

rights and wrongs series by lovesbitca8 — you want fluffy dramione? read the first two parts of the rights and wrongs series. you want dark and heavy dramione? read the auction, an alternate universe of the fluffy dramione, where voldemort wins and they all get auctioned off to death eaters. please check the tags for the voldy wins au! all three were chef's kiss and coming from someone who isn't a fan of dark aus, reading the first two helped me get through the auction because you know where draco's coming from / what's in his head. you can just read the auction without reading the first two parts unless you like catching parallels and having more depth / context (which i very much love).

word count: 174,911 & 160,297 & 325,876

chapters: 36/36 & 24/24 & 41/41

[sebscore]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

pairings: f1 grid x driver!reader (she/her pronouns)

warnings: angst. angst. angst. swearing. like a lot of swearing. i cannot write crashes/contact for the life of me. argument. lando and reader are assholes in this. 

author's note: dont even ask me why i wrote this, i got inspired and needed it out of my system. lol. 

masterlist

''Retire the car. Too much damage. Sorry, Y/N.'' Marco informed her over the radio, sounding frustrated and apologetic over her already finished race. 

The driver took a deep breath before answering. ''Too bad, it was going well. Thanks, guys.'' 

Her race had in fact been going well. She'd made a great start going from P4 to P2, and had managed to keep up with the Red Bull of Max. They weren't even halfway in the race or Lando tried overtaking her, causing contact, causing her to run off in the gravel with too much trouble on the car to continue. 

In her opinion, it had been reckless. The McLaren driver knew exactly she would end up being forced off the track by the overtake, and that her race would most likely be over because of it. 

As she trudged back to the garage, helmet in hand, she could barely contain her frustration. The team greeted her with sympathetic looks, but she didn't stop to talk to anyone. She headed straight for her driver's room, needing a moment to cool off before she could face the media. 

Her hands trembled with anger as she peeled off her gloves, tossing them onto a nearby chair. The season hadn't been going how she had hoped or even expected it to go. Last year she had been the vice World Champion, the undisputed second-best driver on the grid, the only one to essentially have been able to challenge Max's dominance. Now, she got lucky to even end up in the top five of a race. Her team's design of the car hadn't been meeting the expectations the engineers had set, and upgrades weren't helping in the way they had hoped. 

That is why this race weekend had been a great boost for the team's morale and confidence. Qualifying had gone really well, and for a moment they were able to fight for the win even. But the papaya car of No. 4 had shoved their hopes down the drain. 

Minutes later, there was a knock on the door. She turned to see Marco standing there, looking concerned. ''You okay?'' 

''Have I ever been okay,'' she remarked, a sarcastic chuckle leaving her lips. ''I'm just pissed, that's all. I had high hopes for today.'' 

''We all did,'' he smiled sadly. ''The stewards reviewed the incident, but he, uh, didn't get a penalty.'' He said softly, almost as if he was afraid of her reaction.

The young woman let out a bitter laugh. ''Of course he didn't, why would he?'' Her hands covered her face, briefly wiping off the sweat that had formed. 

Marco took a step closer, his expression a mix of empathy and disappointment. ''You drove brilliantly out there. Everyone saw it. The team saw it. It's just... racing politics sometimes.'' 

She dropped her hands, meeting his eyes with a mixture of anger and resignation. ''It's always like that, though. It's always the same drivers suffering the consequences of others, and they don't get shit for it. It is fucking annoying.'' 

Her engineer nodded, understanding everything she was saying. ''I know, we all know. But we keep fighting. We keep pushing. This season isn't over yet.'' 

''Yeah, true.'' She sighed. 

Marco gave her a reassuring smile. ''We'll be ready for the next race. We're all in this together, okay? We're all behind you.'' 

She nodded, feeling a small measure of comfort in his words. ''Thanks, I appreciate it.'' They shared a quick embrace, before he left to join the team again. Meanwhile she got herself ready to go to the media pen. As much as she wanted to hide away, she knew it was part of the job. 

Since she had an early exit, there wasn't much activity inside the area, though there were a bunch of reporters waiting for her. 

''Y/N, tough race today. Can you tell us what happened from your perspective?'' The reporter asked after briefly greeting her. 

''Yeah, it was, uh, challenging, I guess,'' she plastered a smile on her face. ''We had a great start, moving up to P2 and keeping pace with Max. Then, yeah, the contact with Lando. The car had a bunch of damage, and we decided to just retire the car.'' 

''Do you think it was a fair move by him?'' He followed up. 

She paused, weighing her response. ''Racing is always intense, especially at this level. I don't think it was the right move to make, but the stewards saw it as a racing incident.  I'll respect their decision, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating.'' 

''You and Lando are good friends, and have been racing against each other since your karting days. Will you talk to him afterwards or just forget about it?'' 

They had expected a question like this, so the media-trained answer came out very quickly. ''It was deemed a racing incident, so there is not much to say further about it.'' 

''How do you and your team plan to bounce back from this setback?'' The reporter for Sky Sports changed the topic. 

''We'll regroup and come back stronger,'' she answered, injecting as much determination into her voice as she could muster. ''This season has been tough, but my team and I are committed to pushing forward. We learn from every race, and today is no different.'' 

''That's great, thank you, Y/N.'' They wrapped up the interview, and she moved onto a new one. 

Once she had spoken to everyone she needed to speak to, she finally had a moment to herself. She knew the words she had just spoken were the right ones, but they did little to soothe the turmoil inside her. 

It didn't help that Lando managed to take the lead, and eventually get his first win. As she watched the remainder of the race from the sidelines, her emotions were all over the place. On the one hand, she was proud of her friend for finally making his dream come true. However, it had come at the expense of her race. She had pushed so hard this season, and to see her friend and rival celebrate his triumph while she stood there with nothing but frustration was almost unbearable. 

The cheers from the McLaren garage echoed in her ears. They celebrated wildly, the joy of his long-awaited victory palpable even from a distance. He was swarmed by his team as they shouted his name. 

The podium ceremony was even worse. As Lando stood on the top step, the British national anthem playing in the background, she couldn't help but replay the moment that had ended her race. She could see the excitement in his eyes, the genuine happiness that came with achieving a lifelong dream. But all she could think about was the contact, the gravel trap, and the wrecked potential of what could have been her race. 

Under any other circumstance, she would have been there for him. She would have run to the ceremony herself, just like he had done for her when she got her first win in F1 and made history as the first woman to do so. But it just stung too deep. 

''Lando, there was an incident with Y/N that resulted in her retiring from the race. Can you tell us what happened there?'' The Dutch reporter asked the race winner. 

Lando's expression shifted slightly, the euphoria dimming just a bit. ''Uh, yeah. I saw a gap and went for it. It was a tight move, and unfortunately, it led to some contact. But that's racing, you know.'' 

''Have you spoken to her yet?'' 

''Not yet,'' he admitted. ''But I don't think there is much to talk about.'' He chuckled, quickly glancing sideways, but his laugh seemed forced.

''She told Sky Sports that she didn't think you made the right move there.'' The journalist said, instigating a headline for them to be able to use. 

Lando frowned at his words, but recovered. ''Well, that's her opinion. It was just racing for me.'' 

''So you don't regret making the move?'' The reporter pressed on. 

The Brit took a deep breath before answering. ''I regret that it ended her race. But as a racer, you have to take chances. It's a fine line, you know.''

The older man in front of him nodded at his response, knowing they had gotten a glimpse of the tension that was present between the fan-favorite duo. ''Thank you, Lando. Congratulations again.'' 

''Thank you.'' 

With that, the interview wrapped up, and Lando moved onto the next reporter. As he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. He didn't think he had done anything wrong, so why was everyone talking to him as if he had done something wrong? 

Y/N was struggling to unwind. The events of the day played over and over in her mind, each replay more frustrating than the last. She tried to distract herself by either watching some TikToks or TV, but nothing could drown out her thoughts. The texts from her friends, family and team certainly didn't help. It was a nice gesture, but she didn't want to think about the race anymore and the messages weren't helping. Finally, she decided to call it a night and climbed into bed, hoping sleep would offer some respite. 

Just as she was starting to drift off, another knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. It was unusual for someone to bother her this late, especially when she was winding down in her hotel room.

She frowned and got out of bed, opening the door to find Lando standing there, wearing his signature grin, acting nonchalant as ever. ''You wanna come celebrate with us? We rented a club.'' 

Y/N frowned at him, confused over his casual behavior. ''No.'' She scoffed, offended by the mere thought. 

It was now Lando's turn to frown at his friend. ''Why?'' 

She crossed her arms, incredulous at his obliviousness. ''Why? Are you taking the fucking piss out of me or something.'' 

His grin faltered slightly, but he tried to maintain his composure. ''If this is about the racing incident then you're being ridiculous.'' 

Her eyes widened in disbelief, her frustration boiling over. ''I am being ridiculous? You were ridiculous with that move you pulled!'' She retorted, raising her voice. ''You ran me off the track knowing how hard this season has fucking been for me. You know how much I needed a good result today and you ruined it for me!'' 

''Y/N, I get that you're upset, but it's racing. These things are bound to happen. I saw a gap and I went for it. The stewards didn't even penalize me, so clearly, it wasn't as bad as you're making it out to be.'' He was restraining from rolling his eyes, she could tell. 

She scoffed, shaking her head. ''Oh, so now you're agreeing with the stewards? Now that it is benefitting you? And there was no fucking gap, you were just being selfish. You knew what you were doing, and you didn't care how it would affect me.'' 

Lando's face hardened, his patience wearing thin. ''I didn't do it on purpose to screw you over, where the fuck are you getting that from? I saw an opportunity, and I took it. That's what we do out there. You know that better than anyone." 

''If that opportunity was ruining my fucking race, then yeah, you really took the opportunity, Norris.'' She rolled her eyes, voice tinged with sarcasm. 

He took a step closer, his frustration now matching hers. ''I'm sorry that you didn't get the result you wanted today, I really am. But I am not going to apologize for racing and doing my job, Y/N.'' 

She simply glared at him, disappointed in how he was acting towards her. They'd never really had an argument before, at least not one where they couldn't see each other's point. They'd been frustrated with each other before, but it was always in reason. 

''If anything, I should be angry with you- not the other way.'' Lando suddenly said. 

''Why's that?'' She sneered, almost in disbelief that he would have a valid reason. 

''Because you didn't even have the fucking guts to congratulate me,'' he snapped back, ''when you won Silverstone, I was literally one of the first people to hug you and congratulate you for your win. I stood next to your fucking parents, Y/N! And today you didn't even bother doing anything.'' 

Her mouth fell open, a mix of shock and anger flooding her veins. ''You are unbelievable… You ruined my fucking race, Lando! How am I supposed to stand there and cheer for you when you cost me everything today?'' 

He rolled his eyes while throwing up his hands. ''This isn't just about today. You're just jealous because my season has been going so much better than yours. You can't fucking stand that for one time I'm doing actually better than you.'' 

''Jealous… of you?'' The words came out like laughter, slightly hurting the McLaren driver's ego. ''You think I can't be happy for you because I'm not doing as well? That's so low, Lando.'' 

''Ever since the start of the season you've been so moody and distant, and now you can't even say or even fucking text me a congratulations for my first win. You're so pissed that I got a win before you this season, you can't even hide it.'' He shot back. 

''Oh, give me a break. Like you wouldn't act the same if you were getting all these shit results. Maybe I didn't congratulate you because I was too busy trying to scrape gravel out of my fucking tires.'' She remarked, throwing in the sarcastic comment. 

Lando looked unimpressed by her remark. ''You're just mad cause I'm outshining you. You can't fucking stand that I'm getting all the attention.'' 

''Outshining me? Are you hearing yourself?'' She mocked him, laughing bitterly. ''You get one win and you're acting like you're a fucking World Champion already. You've been riding Max's dick these last years hoping some of his success will rub off on you. Newsflash Norris, everyone is just fucking laughing at you.'' 

His face turned red, either embarrassment or anger. ''At least I'm not constantly whining about my car and blaming everyone else for my problems. Maybe if you spent more time focusing on your driving and less on complaining, you'd have more to celebrate.'' 

''You're a fucking spoiled brat who can't stand some competition. You think everything should be handed to you on a silver platter.'' She retorted. 

''And you're a fucking baby who throws a temper tantrum everytime you don't get what you want. It's time to fucking grow up, Y/N!'' He shouted, his voice rising with each word. 

She took a step closer to him. ''You should spend less time trying to prove yourself to people who don't give a shit about you, and more time trying to be a decent fucking human being. I'm ashamed to call you one of my best friends.'' 

That last sentence had clearly hit a nerve or several nerves. He shook his head, taking a few steps back. ''Fuck you, Y/N. Enjoy your pity party.'' Lando turned and walked away, joining his friends who were waiting in the lobby. 

She watched him go, her chest heaving with a mix of anger and heartbreak. She could feel the pulse of her racing heart, the adrenaline from their argument making her feel jittery and unsteady. 

A lump formed in her throat as she replayed the last few minutes in her mind. She cringed internally at the words she had fired at Lando, while also trying to ignore the sting from his own harsh words. She wondered how they would be able to come back from this. They had never been in a situation like this before, and she knew that she would never want to be in this situation again. 

The young woman knew that she had let her emotions get the best of her. She had always prided herself on being fair and understanding, but now she felt ashamed of herself. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of another door opening. George peeked out, concern etched on his face. ''Y/N, you okay?'' 

She shook her head, not wanting to deal with anyone else. ''Mind your business, Russell.'' She retreated back into her room, not before slamming the door behind her. 

As she leaned against the closed door, the weight of the evening pressed down on her. The room felt too small, her emotions too big. She slid down to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest, and let the tears she had been holding back finally fall.

Even when she finally got up, even when she tucked herself in again for the final time, and even when she tossed and turned the entire night, the same question lingered in her mind. 

Are they still friends? 

The question haunted her, gnawing at her thoughts every time she closed her eyes. She replayed the argument over and over, dissecting every word, every expression. The hurt in his eyes, the anger in his voice- it all felt so raw and irreversible. 

As the hours dragged on, sleep remained elusive. The darkness of the room mirrored the uncertainty in her heart. She knew they both needed time to cool off, to reflect, but the thought of facing Lando again filled her with dread.

The first light of dawn began to seep through the curtains, and she felt no more at ease than she had the night before. 

Are they still friends? 

story ideas are always welcome, but remember that it can take a while for me to get to it! :)

[lovemebutleavemewild]

Wasn't actually going to do a part 2 to this mafia!Price x pregnant reader drabble but a few people requested it so ...

I don't think this will be a long fic or a series or anything but if anyone has by particular requests for scenes, let me know!

You take the table's orders quickly and almost trip getting away from them.

John follows you immediately, of course, but if you can just get to the kitchen, he won't be able to follow you.

Or so you think.

The doors don't have time to swing shut behind you before they burst open again and you feel a hand on your waist, spinning you around to face him.

"You're taking your break," he tells you.

"I can't yet, I have tables. And-"

You see your manager approaching and brace yourself for the tirade.

"Sir, you can't be in h-"

He stops when he gets a proper look at John.

"Oh. Um, is there a problem, sir? Or some way I can-"

"She's taking her break," John tells him, jerking his thumb at you. Your manager just nods mutely and John takes your hand, leading you out the back entrance.

"Beat it," he tells the line cook, smoking by the bins. The man slinks back inside without a word.

As soon as you're alone, John shepherds you against the wall, arm on either side of you so you're walled in.

"It's mine?" he asks and you try not to be offended. It's a fair question, you suppose. You just nod, looking at your shoes. He tilts your chin up so you're looking at him. You can't read the look on his face.

"Finish your shift. I'll wait."

+++++++

He takes you home, makes the others take a cab wherever they're going, and just gives you a look when you suggest you can take the bus.

He also insists on walking you inside. Your face warms at the way he's analysing your apartment building. When you hold the door to your place open for him, he rubs his hand along the doorframe, studying the lock, heads straight for the windows to do the same once he's inside.

"We'll need to get you moved out of here," he says when he finally turns around. You raise  your eyebrows.

"Is that right?" you ask. If he notices the sarcasm, he doesn't comment.

"Mmmhmm. Could get the lads to pack up your stuff for you, handle the movin'. We could have it done tonight"

"And where do you suggest I go?"

John smiles and sidles towards you.

"I could think of a few places," he says, raising his eyebrows. You huff a laugh.

"Hmm. But there's nothing wrong with my apartment."

John just hums.

"Not a good area," he tells you.

You start to feel your temper rise a little.

"Think whatever you want of the area; You don't get to walk in here and tell me-"

"Well I am telling you darlin'. I know these parts and 'round here isn't a good place for a girl like you."

"A girl like me?" you ask flatly, crossing your arms. You force yourself not to move away from him as he gets in your space. You can smell him from here, the scent of his cologne, and doesn't that bring back memories.

He leans down so he's looking into your eyes properly.

"A good girl," he says.

You snort and turn away.

"Does that line usually work for you?"

In a second, you feel his hands on your waist, pulling you back against a hard chest.

"Worked before, didn't it?" His voice is raspy in your ear.

"You didn't mind being my good girl the last time we spoke, did ya, sweetheart? Or can you only be good when you're stuffed full?"

He presses harder against your back and you can feel the length of him now.

"'Cause I can help you with that, love, just you say the word."

You pull away, turn to look at him, with your chest heaving.

"Place like this could be dangerous for a girl like you," John says and it sounds like a warning.

"Aren't men like you what makes places like this dangerous?" you whisper.

He steps towards you again, slower this time, puts a hand on your hip. You don't pull away.

"Sometimes," he admits. "Not always. Need to make sure you're taken care of, from all the bad things out there. Goes for both of you."

"I don't need taken care of," you tell him. It would sound more convincing to your own ears if you could find it in yourself to pull your hand off his chest.

"No?" His hand suddenly dips between your legs and you jolt forwards into him.

"You been taking care of yourself here, hmm?" He starts to rub, over your work leggings, leans down so his head is nearly on your shoulder.

"Been taking care of this pretty pussy like it needs?" he asks, voice rough. "It was so needy that night we met, I was sure we'd go a few rounds. Why'd you run instead, sweetheart? I didn't even get a chance to taste it."

You can't answer, can't think, especially not when he shoves his same hand under your pants, sliding your underwear to one side for better access. Your head falls back when he touches your clit.

"Need me to take of you here, darlin'?"

You can't help your moan.

"Not good enough," he grunts. "Need you to say it, love. Say you need me to take care of this pussy."

And you've been so stressed for so long and, really, at this point, what harm could it possibly do?

"Please, please, John, I need you. I need-need-"

He quietens you with a kiss, leaning down to lift you by your thighs. The bump makes it a bit awkward but he doesn't falter as he makes his way to your room.

"All you needed to say, mama."

[weirdmageddon]

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. ​she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

[recreationalfanfics]

"What A Beautiful Family!"

In which you get confused for being a family

Rengoku:

- It happens during a trip to the store in town with his little brother. Maybe it was to restock groceries or maybe it was buying supplies for his next demon conquest, either way: all three of you went down to visit.

- Rengoku smiled softly at you as he watched you with his little brother, holding his hand and laughing with Senjuro and occasionally lifting him up and spinning around.

- At some point during the walk, Senjuro pointed at some birds flying in the tree and begged Kyojuro for a closer look, which Kyojuro happily allowed him to do and put him on his shoulders with a big smile. You helped Senjuro steady himself and laughed at how precious the two looked.

- As Senjuro and Kyojuro debated about what kind of birds they were, you couldn't help but look at Kyojuro with nothing less than love in your eyes and a fond smile.

- "Aw, how precious!" a woman walking past with a basket filled with baked goods cooed at you three, "I'm glad even with demons terrorizing us, people can still have moments like this. Here, have some!"

- At first you tried to decline out of embarrassment but Kyojuro humbly took them and gave one to Kyojuro and handed a pastry to you. You were hesitant but then you took it and graciously thanked the lady, "but also, I feel bad for not paying for these, ma'am. Please, let me-"

- "Don't you worry about it. A beautiful family like you should enjoy a good snack on such a lovely day, especially since your husband's a hashira."

- Rengoku opened his mouth to let out a hearty "TASTY!" but stopped himself halfway when he heard that. You just stared at the lady in flustered shock as she bowed her head and walked away.

- You and Kyojuro shared a look with each other, Kyojuro giving you a nervous yet wide grin and you returned it. Both of your faces felt warm and you were barely able to hold eye contact with each other.

- "Haha, that lady thought you were (Y/n)'s husband! Isn't that funny, big brother?" and Rengoku's gaze softens as you become timid and look down at your feet, "Yes...I suppose it is, Kyojuro."

Tengen:

- You were walking with Tengen and his wives, happy to see him a bit more after his retirement, when you stumbled upon three neighboring children, who played too roughly and were crying their eyes out about it.

- You and Hinatsuru helped them while Suma tried not to cry with the two boys but offered to help and Makio awkwardly tried to calm them down. Tengen just squatted down and told them that it wasn't very flashy to cry, which made you and Hina elbow him.

- Instead of getting more upset, however, all three boys became excited and seemed to recgonize Tengen, asking him if he was the sound Hashira, which seemed to greatly inflate his ego as he said: "Yes but I am also the God of Festivals!"/ "WOW! REALLY!?"

- You and his wives exchanged glances knowing he wouldn't shut up. When they asked if he could tell him a story of the demons he fought, he tried to be all: "Oh, it might be too scary for you kids...BUT WHAT THE HECK- So I was in the Entertainment District which is filled with prost-"/ "UZUI."/ "IT'S IMPORTANT TO THE STORY."

- Anyways, after some censoring, each boy found a home in your lap, Suma's lap, and another sat on Hinatsuru's but leaned their head on Makio's arm. All of you entranced by Tengen's storytelling and prescence.

- "Haha, such an energetic father. Those boys are definetly gonna grow up strong!"/ "I wonder which of those women are his wife?"/ "From the way they're looking at him, all four, probably."

- Tengen's voice suddenly stopped, most likely because he heard what they said, but instead of correcting him, his eyes landed on you. You could feel Hina's, Suma's, and Makio's gaze on you as well and you felt timid...but not uncomfortable. His lips upturned into a smirk and you felt yourself trying to look at ANYWHERE but the attractive faces that were staring at you.

- "Well, what happened next!?" One of the boys demanded, impatient from the cliff hanger.

- "Huh- Oh, right! Anyways, this demon CAME OUT and he was UGLY. Absolutely hideous, like a monster that crawled from under your bed-"

- When the boys finally were called home, you all waved goodbye and parted ways. Leaving you alone with the retired Hashira and his wives, you didn't say anything but the energy felt different as Suma clung to your arm and Tengen walked closer to you, Makio's eyes would stray towards you but timidly look away when you caught her gaze as Hina wished this walk would last forever. Just the five of you.

[yawnderu]

Mine — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Art by @ave661!

Synopsis: knowing he couldn't provide you with the life you wanted, Simon breaks things off with you. Two years later, you come back to base with a baby that isn't his.

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, established relationships, breeding, erotic lactation, romantic love making, praising. No beta we die like Roach.

Ghost always knew his lifestyle would forever be considered out of the norm. A soldier who risks his life every single mission, a man who has built an entire plethora of enemies in multiple countries should never even bother settling down, yet why does it hurt to bad to see you come back to base with a baby that isn't his? It was his idea to break up— not wanting to destroy your dreams of wanting a family in a gated community, even when you reassured him living together as soldiers wouldn't be an issue at all.

"Say 'hi, Simon'." You tell the baby you're carrying, the tiny thing wearing a bear onesie is looking up at Simon, pure curiosity in her eyes. She simply babbles, short arms reaching out to touch his skull mask. To your surprise and to his heart break, he leans down so your daughter can play with the hard plate of the mask, not worried at all about her breaking it.

"She looks like you." He said with a choked voice, trying his best to sound calm. He doesn't even dare look at you, his gaze focused on the tiny girl you're holding.

"Dada!" She babbles out while touching his mask and Simon's eyes immediately go towards you, soul almost leaving his body in fear of seeing disgust on your face, yet all he sees is a bashful smile adorning your pretty features. He holds in his breath, eyebrows furrowed under the balaclava as he waits for your response.

"Astrid, that's—" You begin and she interrupts, one of her tiny hands barely being able to hold one of his big skull gloved fingers. "Dada!" She insists, louder this time. There's only 3 words the little girl can say including 'Dada', so you're not all that concerned about her seeing him that way.

"Sorry, she—" You get interrupted once again, this time by Simon.

"It's okay." If being delusional and pretending this tiny thing is his daughter helps him deal with the heartbreak making his chest hurt, he doesn't mind. The girl clings to Simon's neck and you lean closer, giving her a questioning look. She never liked being held by anyone but you, often crying whenever friends tried to hold her.

"This might sound strange, but..." His gaze shifted from you to the child, heart melting at the little girl holding onto the neck of his jacket for dear life.

"Can I hold her?" His voice was hoarse, hands almost shaking from all the emotions that hit him at once.

"Of course." Your warm smile reassured him, gently passing him the baby. He supported the back of her head with his hand, easily dwarfing her entire skull, yet being so delicate with his touch you could swear he thinks your daughter is made of glass.

Simon felt light headed as the little girl was slipped into his arms, fitting perfectly in his hands. His eyes lit up when he looked down and saw her soft, chubby fingers wrap around the chain of his dog tags, a small smile forming under the balaclava. He brought her close and cradled her, heart thundering in his chest at holding this lovely girl you created.

"Dada." She pointed at him with her finger, looking back at you as she squeezed his chain with her free hand. You could swear you saw one of his eyebrows lifting in amusement under the mask, the same cocky look you know too well.

"Maybe she wants me to be her daddy." He teased you, cradling the baby delicately in his strong arms, shielding her from any danger. He was instantly smitten the second he saw her, content to have your permission to hold her even after all you both went through.

"Don't be so smug about it, bastard." You playfully roll your eyes, leaning your head on his shoulder to give your little girl a kiss on the forehead, her hand holding onto your hair softly the same way you managed to teach her after one too many times of having your hair pulled by the tiny creature.

"Mama." She attempted to pet your hair the same you taught her how to pet a cat, albeit her tiny limbs moved much sloppier and with surprising strength.

"I think it's sweet." He said with a cheeky smirk, the pain in his chest going away more and more the longer he held your daughter. He was secretly hoping to get a reaction out of you after almost two years of not being able to tease you.

"You can tell her no all you want, but if she wants a dada, she's got one." As if to prove his point, he pointed with his eyes to the girl in his arms, the child reaching out towards Ghost with a giggle. His fingers tickled the baby gently, making her laugh even more. You look between Simon and the baby, a fond smile on your lips when you see just how easily they get along, the pupils in his brown eyes fully dilated as he looks down at her.

"Look at her." Ghost spoke softly, one of his skull gloved fingers running down the length of her short hair.

"She looks like an angel." He looked down at the child with nothing short of raw adoration, gaze drifting back to you, taking in the sweet moment of your body leaning against his while you both fawn over the infant. You hesitantly move away from his shoulder after a few seconds and he gives you a questioning side eye.

"I've got a meeting with Price, let me—" You reach out for your baby and he looks down at you, gaze softening.

"I can babysit for you." He offers with a hopeful look in his eyes. How can you deny anything to this man when he's holding your little girl as if he would die for her no questions asked? When those big brown eyes are looking down at you, the moisture in them clear as day? You nod your head, offering a warm smile as you give your baby one last kiss in the cheek, accidentally tickling her and making her giggle even more.

"There's a few baby bottles in the fridge, just run them over hot water for a few seconds until it's warm— but not too warm." He nods his head as you give him instructions on how to take care of the baby, listening intently. He doesn't have the heart to tell you he knows how to take care of a child— he babysat his former nephew many, many times before. He doesn't even realize he dissociated until you gently pat his shoulder, walking to Price's office.

"You and me, yeah?" He asks your baby who simply giggles in return, tiny hands going back to play with the hard plate of his skull mask.

The meeting took much longer than expected, catching up with Price and talking about your possible return to the 141. It isn't until three hours later that you go back to your quarters, heart in your throat when you turn on the lights.

Ghost is laying on your bed, civilian clothes on with a hoodie covering half of his upper face, your baby safely secured on his chest. You don't have the heart to wake them up, instead grabbing your phone and snapping a quick picture, making sure not a single feature of his face is seen for his own safety and privacy.

The change of lighting slowly wakes him up, offering you a tired smile before his eyes close again once he realizes it's just you. You take off your boots and turn off the light, sneaking into bed with your lovely baby and... your ex.

It feels too natural to even think much about it, one of his arms instantly wrapping around your shoulders to bring you closer, head resting on his chest along with the tiny offspring. He drifts off to sleep soundly with his two girls and for the first time in a long time, he's able to get a full night's sleep, not being woken up by his violent nightmares.

Weeks pass as Simon spends more and more time with you, your new contract signed the same day you had a meeting with Price, though he's not putting you on any missions yet until they figure out who will take care of your daughter while you're away. Today Gaz and Soap asked to take her out, claiming they wanted to buy some new clothes for her since she's growing up fast.

"Hey, big guy." You greet Simon, who seems to have relocated to your quarters for whatever reason— the man literally spends his whole time there and you don't even question it anymore, simply assuming he wanted to spend more time with your daughter. You know details here and there about his family, though he was never clear about the full story. You sit down next to him and he nods his head in acknowledgment, too busy looking at his phone.

"Can I buy her this?" He points his phone at you, showing you a website selling pajama pants for babies, the ones he's showing you are grey and have a skull pattern all over. You playfully roll your eyes, nodding your head before laying down next to him, head laying on his chest while you look at his phone, browsing the website together.

"You don't have to buy her things, you know?" You take a few seconds to admire his unmasked features iluminated by his phone—the soft jawline, thin pink lips, high nose and skin around his eyes that always seemed to be tainted with eye black no matter how well he washed it off.

"Telling me what to do, Sargeant?" He teased, raising an eyebrow at you and being an asshole jokingly just to make you laugh. It only earns him a slap on the arm, phone dropping right on his face. He turns his head slowly to look at you and you can recognize the look in his eyes— you try to run away but he holds you down, fingers already tickling your ribs as you laugh and struggle, trying your best to get out of his grasp to no avail.

"Pause." You kick and scream, laughter escaping your lips due to the tickles. As soon as you speak he stops, looking down at you with a tender look in his face. You gasp for air and he takes the chance to look down at your lips, so close, so inviting...

"I saw that." You tease and he jokingly pushes your head into the pillow, laying down next to you with an arm wrapped around your waist. You giggle at the remaining feeling of the tickles before laying back down on your side, hand absent-mindedly tracing patters on his defined, clothed stomach. You don't know when you both started becoming so close again, yet the comfort is always welcome in the turbulent life of a soldier.

"When's that lot coming back?" He looks down at you, longing mixed with curiosity. Truth to be told, he knows the boys will keep your baby safe, but he wants to have her right back where she belongs— in his arms.

"Like... two hours, I think. If they don't find anything too distracting. Don't worry, I made them take a jacket for her in case it gets cold." He would never tell you he was the one to put the baby jacket in the car because they all forgot.

"Good, good." He sighs, looking up at the ceiling, deep in thought. It's quiet for a few minutes, both of you finding comfort in the silence before he speaks again.

"Are you planning on having another one?" He asks curiously, gaze drifting down towards you, doing his best to hide the longing and hope in his tone.

"Maybe." You keep in simple, eyes staying closed as you trace patterns on the muscles of his stomach, feeling them flex involuntarily at your touch.

"Why? Interested on having a family with me now, Simon?" You tease, an eyebrow raised at him as you finally open your eyes. He seems to be thinking about it for a few seconds before hesitantly nodding.

"Bullshit." You sit up, looking down at him with a mix of confusion and hope.

"S' the truth." He plays it off casually as if he didn't confess being ready to do the same thing that broke both of you off two years ago. He pulls you back down to his chest, fingers gently massaging your scalp. You can hear his heart beat fast, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows the knot in his throat.

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say. It's too much all at once— knowing Simon actually wanted to settle down with you bringing a mix of anxiety and fear to both of you equally. He never had a normal family, and though deep down he was scared of being like his father, he already proved to himself he can be gentle and tender, the same way he is with your daughter.

His hand slowly drifted down from your waist to the curve of your ass, softly squeezing it while looking at you for any signs of hesitation. He finds none, and instead sees you leaning closer and closer until your lips crash, the passion of two lovers who never got over one another present in the kiss.

Clothes are discharged all over the room with no care at all, the quarter walls bouncing off with a mix of your moans and his low groans, a pillow under your hips while he fucked into your cunt, slow and deep thrusts making the tip of his fat cock slam into your willing cervix.

"Gonna look so fucking pretty with my kid." He whispers into your ear, breathy groans leaving his lips as his thrusts slow down, making love to you rather than just fucking you for a quick nut. One of his hands cups your cheek, forcing you to look up at him.

"Tell me. Tell me how pretty you'll be all swollen with my baby." You hesitate and he kisses your lips gently, gaze tender while he looks down at you, thrusts hitting deeper and deeper each time as he waits for you to speak.

"I'll look... so pretty—fuck— with your child." You manage to speak out between whiny moans, the way he's looking at you with pure love and adoration is all you need to confirm he does find you attractive. Truth to be told, it's difficult being confident after glint through something that permanently alters your body, yet he's looking at you like you're even more beautiful than before. In his eyes, you are.

"That's a good girl." He praises, hips rutting faster against yours as he drove himself deeper and deeper into your cunt, the nasty squelching sound every time he goes hits it hard making this even more exciting. He holds himself up with his elbows, large hands cupping your tits while he pops one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it like a starved man finding shelter.

"These tits are gonna be so big too." He murmurs, swallowing the milk coming out of your tits with no hesitation. His hand gets busy with your other nipple, gently pulling and squeezing the sensitive bud, not minding the milk squirting all over. It's too good to be true— your body changing so much to keep your baby healthy and soon enough, it'll change for his baby too.

"So fuckin' perfect, baby." He praises, eyes closing as he focuses on how good your wet walls are wrapping around his unprotected cock, tongue swirling around your nipple before he latches onto it again, drinking the sweet milk coming out.

"This cock's all yours." He lets go of your nipple, face seeking shelter on the crook of your neck as his thrusts get sloppier by the second, embarrassingly nasty words coming out of his lips like prayer. You're the only one allowed to ever see him like this, to have him in any possibly way. He doesn't even care how he's promising you the world, offering all of himself to you without having any doubts.

"Everyone's gonna know you're mine, love." He whispers into your ear, voice hoarse and full emotion, hips stuttering before he buries himself all the way into your cunt, cum splurging out directly into your willing, fertile womb. He keeps himself inside, caging you in with his strong arms into a protective embrace, wanting to make sure not a single drop of cum is wasted.

"All mine."

[appocalipse]

that guy ⊹ steve harrington

summary: After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him… | 2.6k words

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The moment Steve steps through the glass doors of the diner, you wonder, for about the millionth time that month alone, what is it that you've done so wrong to deserve this kind of punishment.

It's Friday night, and on Friday nights, Steve Harrington goes on dates. It's just like clockwork, really: he meets a pretty girl, thinks she's the one, takes her out on a date, realizes quickly enough that she isn't quite what he was looking for, then comes here after having dropped her back home to sulk with you, in the diner that your family runs, still clad in the outfit he'd chosen especially for his failed date.

To be honest, he never looks sad, per se — more like disappointed. Frustrated, maybe.

You watch as he weaves around tables occupied by laughing friends, past booths filled with couples sharing desserts, then slides into a seat in front of you at the bar. Steve sits down with an exhausted sigh, ruffling up his hair before shooting you a tired smile.

"Hi."

You don't look up from where you're polishing the counter. "Bad date again?"

"Not even close. She talked about horses non-stop."

A quiet laugh slips past your lips despite yourself, and finally, you tear your gaze off the dark wooden surface of the counter to look up at him; he's got this pleased little smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the way they always do whenever he succeeds at making you laugh, even if just a little.

How are you supposed to keep acting like nothing's wrong when he looks at you like that?

You clear your throat awkwardly and make yourself busy stacking clean glasses next to the coffee machine.

"So...not the one, I take it?"

Steve leans forward against the counter and props his head up with his hand, sighing deeply.

"I'm starting to think she won't ever show up," he says quietly, running his other hand through his hair. You chance another glance at him and note how genuinely worried he looks. It breaks your heart almost as much as it annoys you. "What is it that's wrong with me, huh? I just don't get it."

"Nothing is wrong with you."

"You don't need to be nice to me. We've been friends since forever, remember?"

The word 'friends' makes you wince a little bit inside, but you hide the reaction behind a neutral frown. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? Because I haven't found the one yet either, you know."

Steve's expression softens as he looks at you, and once again you feel that horrible twinge in your stomach that you wish would just stop already.

"It's different. I mean—you're not actively trying to find someone." He reaches out to pull one of the half-melted mints out from the glass bowl on the counter and pops it into his mouth with a shrug. "I go out looking for her and she just doesn't come. If she even exists, that is."

"She does."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wouldn't hold my breath. God, why am I such an idiot, y'know?" Steve slumps over the counter with a groan, burying his face into his crossed arms. "My love life is a trainwreck."

"At least you have one."

He glances up at you curiously and lifts an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it. Do you want some pie?"

You're not about to tell him what you've only admitted to yourself mere months ago — that you're actually hopelessly, madly, stupidly in love with him, and that you have been ever since the two of you were just dumb kids racing around your parents' diner.

What makes it even worse is that you had no idea your feelings went that deep until Steve started going on these dates of his again. Before then, everything was normal — you met up every weekend and binged on candy, watched bad movies on your couch, drove around town together blasting The Clash on his BMW's speakers...it was good.

Until it wasn't.

"Wait, c'mon, you can't just leave me hanging like that," Steve presses. He shifts a little on his stool to better face you, then gestures at you with his hands. "You've clearly got something you wanna say, so, like—hit me. Lay it on me."

"Nothing. I'm just saying...at least you're trying, you know," you say carefully, measuring each word before speaking them. "And at least you're the one doing the rejecting. Could be worse."

Steve's eyebrows rise high up on his forehead and he looks at you incredulously. "Whoa, wait—are you trying to tell me you've been rejected?"

You busy yourself by filling two tall glasses with soda, then slide one to his side of the counter and keep the other for yourself. "Uh...kind of, yeah. But it's fine."

"But who the hell would even do that?" he blurts out. There's anger in his voice all of a sudden, a defensive fire in his eyes that makes you feel as if someone has punched you in the gut. "To you? You're like, the nicest person on the planet, and super pretty to boot. That's just—that's crazy!"

Your heart gives a violent little jump in your chest. He thinks you're pretty. Steve Harrington thinks you're pretty.

Pretty as a friend, you correct yourself immediately, and sigh as you sip your drink. Of course, it's nothing more than that — just meaningless words spoken in a moment of unthinking kindness.

"Seriously, who?" he presses on. "Give me a name. I'll fight him."

"You mean like you fought Jonathan Byers?" you smile behind your glass, looking at him from over its rim.

Steve looks embarrassed at the memory and drops his gaze for a second or two before meeting your eyes again with a playful little smile of his own. "Different situation, okay, but that's not the point. So? Who's the guy?"

"You...don't know him," you hedge.

"It's Hawkins. I know the stray cats here by name."

"Fine, well, even if you did know him, it doesn't matter. He didn't reject me, exactly...not really."

Steve frowns a little. "Okay, you're gonna have to start making sense now. This is hurting my head."

The funny thing is, he actually looks confused, as if he can't possibly fathom the idea of someone rejecting you. It's sweet, really — way too sweet for your liking, especially when you know fully well he doesn't see you in the way you'd want him to.

You lower your gaze to avoid his and instead focus on drawing random shapes on the counter with your index finger, where tiny droplets of condensation from your glass have pooled up on the dark wood. "I mean, I never really told him how I felt. Not directly. It just…never happened."

"Oh. Well, then how do you even know if he feels the same way?" he asks you, looking rather doubtful.

You steal another glance at him and almost regret it instantly. His eyes are trained on your face, patient and attentive like you're the only thing worth watching in the world. It makes you feel horribly small and selfish and guilty, because after all, what right do you have to want him when he so clearly wants someone else?

You feel like you could cry. You might, if you don't distract yourself with something fast enough.

"I just know. Do you want some pie? I'll go get you some pie."

Without waiting for a response, you rush off to the kitchen even though there's plenty of pies sitting on the display counter at the bar, and you make a beeline straight for the back exit.

The alley behind the diner is blissfully empty as usual, just a lonely dumpster and a handful of sad-looking shrubs and weeds peeking out from under the concrete.

No, you aren't going to cry.

This is stupid.

You press your back against the rough brick wall of the diner and breathe in deep the warm night air, then exhale slowly as you count to ten in your head.

When the door opens behind you and the diner's familiar chatter and clatter of cutlery spill into the alley, you wince, mentally cursing yourself for being so goddamn weak. You should have known better.

You don't have to look up to know that it's him.

"Are you hiding from me?" Steve's voice comes, quiet and curious and maybe just a little bit hurt, even.

"I got...suddenly nauseous," you explain weakly, still refusing to look up and meet his eyes.

There's a long stretch of silence, and you feel Steve move closer to you until he's leaning against the wall by your side. You finally look up and find him smiling, this gentle, amused little thing that makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.

"You look just fine to me."

You stare up at the sky, head against the wall. "I thought I was gonna throw up."

He's still watching you, you can tell; you're keenly aware of his eyes on you, so much so that your skin prickles at the attention. "No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't," you admit with a sigh, and turn your head to finally look at him. He's got this little half-smile on his lips, the very same one you fell for years ago, and you curse yourself silently for never learning how to let him go. Really let him go.

"Hey. Listen. You don't have to tell me, okay?" Steve says gently, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to you. He brings his hand up to your face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips linger on the edge of your jaw for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to wonder whether he knows what he's doing to you.

You don't dare to move. You're afraid of breaking whatever spell has seemingly come over him.

"I should've never asked. That was selfish."

"Forget it," you say.

He's standing close now, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to be able to look up at him properly. There's a strange kind of tension in his eyes, something dark and unsure and tentative, and his gaze darts down to your lips just the slightest bit.

You're fairly sure you're just seeing what you want to see, your foolish heart playing tricks on you. But you panic nonetheless, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that if he moves any closer, he'll realize the truth — that you're a liar and a coward, that you've been harboring these feelings of yours for him for years.

"I should—I should go. Back inside," you mutter, pointing vaguely at the door with your thumb. "In there."

"Sure, yeah. Okay. In there," he echoes, not making a single move to leave. "Not out here."

"Yup. Exactly. In there."

"So you said."

"Yep."

The wall of the diner is digging into your spine uncomfortably, and your mouth is dry, and your knees feel weak, and your stomach is doing somersaults, and the longer he stares at you with those eyes of his the more you feel like you're burning from the inside out and—

He's not moving. All he does is look at you, really look at you, as if it's the first time he's really looked, as if he's seeing something that wasn't there before.

"Okay, so—"

You try to push past him towards the door, but Steve grabs your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets go as soon as you look up at him, lifting his hand in front of him in an apologetic gesture.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. He swallows hard and rubs his palm on the front of his jeans, a nervous little habit you think he's always had. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully gelled strands, and it's probably the first time you've ever seen him look so flustered.

He laughs nervously and gestures at the ground with his hands as he speaks. "Look, this is just—this is just crazy, okay, but I think I, uh, maybe sort of realized something."

You blink at him, not quite certain you're hearing him correctly.

"Realized what?" you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.

Steve clears his throat and nods at you, seemingly pleased that you've finally spoken. "Yeah, well, this is stupid, but you know how you're always telling me to listen to my gut?"

"You're not making a whole lot of sense right now, Steve."

"Just bear with me for a sec, okay? This is like, totally new to me." He holds his palms up, and you notice his hands are shaking a little. "I just need a minute, alright?"

He breathes in deep and exhales slowly, then shoots you an apologetic look.

"Sorry, this is just...really weird," he confesses. "Weirdly real."

"You're freaking me out," you tell him, but Steve only smiles at you.

"Maybe I should just show you. Because, I mean, what if I'm wrong? That'd be terrible, obviously."

"Steve."

"Yeah, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he says quickly, and takes another step closer. You stand your ground this time, if only because you don't trust yourself to actually move without your legs giving out. "So, look. Here's the thing. You're, like—you're one of the most important people in my life. You've been there for me when nobody else was, and I...you mean a lot to me."

"Steve—"

"Shut up, you're ruining the moment."

He takes another step forward until he's crowding you against the wall, hand coming to rest next to your head on the brick. He's close, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne and shampoo and laundry detergent, and if you were to lean in even the slightest bit, your faces would bump.

Steve is a little out of breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. And he's still looking at you with that strange, searching expression of his.

"Is this okay?" he whispers.

"I don't—what?"

Your voice catches in your throat. There's no room for doubt in his eyes now, not even the tiniest, slightest sliver of uncertainty left.

"This," Steve murmurs.

He tilts his head to the side a little and leans in until you're sure your noses are touching, and you feel your eyes slip closed in anticipation.

"Is this okay?" he repeats in a whisper. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."

"I think I am."

His lips brush yours. It feels like an accident, doesn't last long enough to be anything but a dream. You can still taste the faint, sweet trace of sugar and mint on your tongue when he pulls away, though.

"Just to be clear," Steve whispers, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your neck, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver, "am I the guy from earlier? The one you like?"

You don't have it in you to deny it anymore.

"Yes. It's you."

A wide grin breaks out across his face, and suddenly he's everywhere; he cups your face in his hands, pressing eager, fervent kisses along the line of your jaw, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the side of your neck.

You giggle helplessly, grabbing Steve by his collar to pull him away from you and up to your eye level. He's breathing just as heavily as you are, his hair messy and his eyes bright.

"How do you do this to me, huh?" he pants, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. "You just—you just completely knock me out."

A pleasant little thrill rushes up your spine at that.

"Oh yeah?"

"Completely."

You kiss him this time.

[grandprixprincess]

hermana part 2 || ln4

lando norris x fem!reader smau + written

part 1!

warnings: some language, slightly steamy scene (no smut but mdni!!), carlos being a protective big brother and lando being down bad

a/n: thanks for all the love on part 1! I decided to do a mix of written + smau for this part. requests are open for smau and text fics <3

landonorris posted

liked by maxfewtrell, yourusername, maxverstappen1, and others

landonorris perfect day in the sun with the best company. getting lots of rest and relaxation before the triple header 🤙

view all comments

user1 "best company" aka just y/n

user2 wait she was with him again today??? user1 yes! f1gossip just posted the photos. they were alone all day 👀

user3 omg this means y/n took these pics! y/n.jpg when?

maxfewtrell looks like my invite got lost

user4 💀💀💀

yourusername ☀️🤗

user5 queen y/n thank u for taking these great pics

f1gossip posted

liked by user1, user2, and others

f1gossip Lando Norris and Y/N Y/L/N were spotted getting cozy this afternoon. The two embarked on a private yacht for an afternoon filled with swimming and laughter. Eyewitnesses say the two were alone all afternoon. It seems like things are rapidly heating up with these two. The next time Y/L/N is seen in the paddock, will she be rocking red ❤️ or papaya 🧡?

view all comments

user2 LANY/N NATION WAKE UP

user3 i can't believe lany/n is real omg

user1 right?? people used to ship them during the carlando mclaren days and now it's REAL

user4 the hand placement omgggg

user5 i wonder what carlos thinks

user2 who cares? it's their lives not his

user6 y/n in papaya at the austin gp pleaseee

user5 ain't no way. she'll always support carlos first, he is basically her brother

yourusername posted a close friends story

story replies:

yourbestfriend not the private yacht on the FIRST DATE

yourusername technically our first date is tomorrow night yourbestfriend literally stfu you know what i meant

carlossainz55 don't stay out too late

yourusername 🙄

landonorris posted a close friends story

story replies:

maxfewtrell did you tell her that you've been secretly in love with her for like 5 years yet or

landonorris OBVIOUSLY NOT i'm trying to play it cool

oscarpiastri I think I missed a chapter

carlossainz55 get my sister back home early cabrón

landonorris leave us alone carlos carlossainz55 excuse me? landonorris NO SORRY THAT WAS Y/N SHE TOOK MY PHONE landonorris I'll make sure she gets home safe mate! 👍

You giggled as you watched Lando frantically type a message back to Carlos. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself!"

You played with the stem of your wine glass. It had been a dream of a day. You were now sharing a bottle of wine together to end the night.

"Your brother is going to have my head!" He finished typing his message out, feeling satisfied, before setting his phone back down.

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you said, "You know he isn't really my brother, right?"

Lando chuckled. "You try telling him that."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." You swirled your glass a bit, taking another sip. "He's always been protective like that."

Lando let out another chuckle. "Oh trust me, I know."

His response and tone piqued your interest. You turned your head towards him, seeing a sly smile on his handsome face. "What do you mean?"

Lando opened and closed his mouth for a few moments, contemplating his words. Finally, he spoke. "I may have tried to ask you out in the past, but Carlos sort of, put a stop to it."

Your jaw dropped in shock. "What?!" You tried to fully understand what he was saying. "When was this exactly?"

Without hesitation, Lando responded, "During Carlos' last year in McLaren."

The shock was evident on your face. Silence rang in the air as you tried to find your words. Lando took the opportunity to speak again.

"And again during his first year in Ferrari."

"What?!" You couldn't believe what you were hearing. When Carlos was at McLaren, you were taking a few years off from school to travel. Traveling the world ended up being easy to do when Carlos agreed to let you tag along to all the races as his "assistant". Carlos was on a new team in F1 with a rookie teammate that was your age. You and Lando became friends quickly, and it wasn't long until you began to harbor a crush on him.

It was a secret only you and Y/BSF/N knew about. You definitely didn't tell Carlos, because you knew how that would go.

Once Carlos left McLaren, you went back to school and your appearances at the races dwindled down to one or two a year. You and Lando went from spending every weekend together running around the paddock, to seeing each other in passing as you made your way to Ferrari and he made his way to McLaren.

"That little shit. I'm going to kill him."

You weren't sure if it was the wine or just how carefree and fun everything with Lando was, but you couldn't stop the fit of giggles that escaped you. After a few moments, Lando joined you in your laughter. Tears began to escape both your eyes.

As the laughter died down, the moment suddenly felt very intimate. Lando's face was extremely close, the rest of the world melting away. "I'm pretty sure I started having a crush on you after that first race weekend." You suddenly felt shy, but you couldn't stop the confession from slipping out.

Now it was Lando's turn to express his surprise, his eyes widening for a moment. He searched your face for a moment, almost like he was waiting for you to tell him you were kidding. Finally, he spoke.

"I really want to kiss you."

You were grateful that the sun had fully gone down now, so there was minimal lighting to help hide the blush creeping on your cheeks. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you whispered out, "Why don't you?"

Lando's adoring gaze had you captivated. "I've wanted to do it for so long now," he confessed, "I want to do it right."

You couldn't help the sly smirk on your face as you teased, "I think we've been pining after each other long enough, don't you think?"

Lando reached his hand forward, cradling your cheek in his hand. His thumb brushed against your cheek, causing goosebumps down your arms.

You wanted to live in this moment forever; Lando being this close, his lips inches from yours. Finally, you both instinctively moved forward, your lips colliding after what felt like an eternity.

You both stilled for a moment, trying to rack your brains over the realization that this was actually and finally happening. After a few seconds, you melted into the kiss, sliding your hands up to rest around his neck.

The two of you moved in sync. It felt like your lips were made for each other. Lando's hand around your head tightened, while his second hand found its home on your waist. One of your hands slide up Lando's neck and into his hair, playing with his curls lightly.

Lando slightly pinched your waist, causing you to gasp, which allowed for his tongue to sneak in. You responded with a slight tug on his curls, causing a groan to escape out of him and into your mouth.

You giggled slightly, breaking the kiss for a moment. "You like that, huh?"

Even though it was dark, you could see how Lando's eyes darkened. With no shame, he responded, "Yes," suddenly his hands slipped down, grabbing your thighs and easily moving you to straddle his lap, "You have no idea the effect anything you do has on me."

Now you were sure it was the wine giving you confidence when you ground your body down to feel his already hard erection. "Oh, I think I have somewhat of an idea." Your hands slipped back into his curls at the nape of his neck, tugging softly.

You relished in the way that Lando's eyes fluttered shut, his hands moving to your hips, guiding them as you continued to grind your body with his.

Lando was putty in your hands. You began to feel the heat in your core. You tugged on Lando's curls again, pulling his head back and eliciting a small moan from his lips.

Bringing your head down, your lips connected with his jaw, peppering him with open mouth kisses on both sides of his face before moving down to his neck.

Lando continued guiding the movement of your hips, his hands tightening around your waist and moving them faster as he felt your lips on his neck. You couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips, letting it ring out right in Lando's ear.

Lando was sure he was in heaven. Your moans were music to his ears.

He let one hand leave your hip and travel to your face, bringing you back towards his lips. Your lips collided again, this time with more urgency and desperation.

You both couldn't believe that you had let all these years go by wasted, when you could've been doing this the whole time. You were kissing each other like your lives depended on it.

Lando's hand moved up and down your sides, squeezing slightly, causing another moan to escape from you, and allowing his tongue entrance again.

You moved your hands down his chest, and began to play with the hem of his shirt.

Lando suddenly broke the kiss, breaking the blissful bubble you two had been caught up in.

"We should stop."

You felt fear creep up on you. Had you done something wrong? Did he not want this anymore? As if he could read your worries on your face, he softly brought his lips to yours again for a moment.

"Trust me, I don't want to stop," he began, chuckling lightly, "but I told you. I want to do this right."

You softened at his words. "You're right." You lazily played with his curls again. "Feels like we have to make up for so much lost time, but I'm not going anywhere."

Lando chuckled. "Me either. Now that I know you want me like I want you, you're never getting rid of me." Lando gave you a goofy grin. He moved his hand up, playing with a strand of your hair for a moment before tucking it behind you ear, "I could spend all night making up for lost time, and even then I guarantee I would be leaving wanting more."

You blushed, grateful again for the minimal lighting. Words lost you. Instead, you just gazed lovingly into Lando's eyes.

"Plus, Carlos told me to make sure you're home early, so..."

Lando relished in the way you rolled your eyes and chuckled softly.

The two of you always felt deep down that you had missed out on something great with each other. Now the universe was giving you a second chance to act on it.

yourusername posted

liked by yourbestfriend, iamrebeccad, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and others

yourusername 🌊🤙🖕

tagged: carlossainz55, iamrebeccad

view all comments

user1 not tagging lando is crazy 💀 girl we know

user2 shhhh let them cook up a soft launch user3 why would she tag him in this tho user1 that's literally lando's jolly lol

charles_leclerc hahaha the last photo

yourusername yeah that's actually me to carlos rn charles_leclerc never a dull moment with you two 😂😂

user2 her and lando used the same emoji. she posts his car but doesn't tag. he's in the likes. the soft launch of the century is about to begin. in this essay, I will-

user4 carlos in that pic is him reading these comments fr

user5 lando behind the camera of that first pic like 😍🤳

user1 we need y/n on lando.jpg stat

As you waited impatiently for Carlos to return home, your phone chimed, signaling another text had come through. You rolled your eyes, thinking it would be another message from Carlos, but you felt your heart skip a beat seeing Lando's name across your screen.

"Maybe Carlito thought you didn't like him, and was trying to help you out."

You stared at your sister's face on the screen in disbelief. "You're supposed to be on my side here."

Your sister laughed. "I am! I just also know Carlos wouldn't do something like this without a valid reason."

You heard a jingle at the door. "Speak of the devil, he's back."

"Call me later, don't give him a hard time, mana." She gave you a wave. "Oh, and have fun tomorrow night."

"I will, talk to you later." You gave your sister a wave back before ending the call.

You got up from your spot on the couch, walking towards the front door. You stood with your arms crossed as the door opened slowly. Suddenly Rebecca's head popped into view. You gave her a small smile.

"Your brother is behind me waving a white flag."

You couldn't help but laugh. "There shall be peace."

Carlos slowly came into view, his hands raised in defeat. He walked hesitantly towards you, waiting for you to react. Rebecca walked past you, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before disappearing into the bedroom.

"I don't want to argue, mano. I just don't understand."

Carlos stared at you for a moment before leading you back to the couch, sitting down and signaling you to do the same. "Listen, back then, you were so young and I was supposed to be looking after you on the road," he started, "and I know how it is once you get to F1. The fame, media, parties..." he paused for a moment, "The girls." He waited a beat before saying, "That's why I'm telling you to be careful with him now."

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. "Lando and I used to have movie nights every race weekend while you and other drivers would go out to clubs and party." You looked down, nervously playing with your hands. "And yeah, I know he does go out now and that he's been seen with different girls, but I know deep down he's still that same guy."

"You guys were kids back then, but now? Lando is usually the first to arrive and the last to leave the club now, always a different girl on his arm."

You finally looked Carlos in the eye, whispering out, "So you think I'm just another girl for him to flaunt around until he gets bored?" You felt your face get hot due to a mix of anger and shame. "I'm not good enough to be something real for him?"

The regret was evident on Carlos' face the second after you spoke. "No, no, hermana, you know that's not what I mean."

"Then what is it? Is it because he's your friend?"

Carlos chuckled. "No, no," he sighed, "I knew you liked him back then. I saw how you looked at him. That dreamy, goofy gleam in your eyes," he said, "and when Lando came to me and said he wanted to ask you out, I panicked."

You were listening intently now. "Why?" you whispered out.

"I think it was the first time I realized you were growing up. The idea of my hermanita dating anyone, nevertheless a driver, freaked me out." He laughed. "I just wanted to protect you from the craziness that comes with being with an F1 driver; I still do."

"Lando said he respects you, and that's why he stayed away back then. But now we're adults, and we're making our own decisions without interference from others." You couldn't stop the smile from creeping back onto your face. "I've always liked him, mano. I want to see where this goes."

Carlos couldn't help but match your smile. He liked seeing you this happy, and if that was because of Lando, then he was willing to be open-minded. "Okay, okay, I'm on board," he chuckled, "but I told you already. If he breaks your heart, he goes into the wall."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "You'd have to catch up to his rocketship in your tractor first."

Carlos' jaw dropped, disbelief written on his face. "I can't believe I've already lost you to the papaya army."

You let out a laugh, nudging his shoulder. "Hey, family always comes first. I'm a Ferrari girl first, papaya girlie second."

"Good, because that would be where I'd draw the line."

"I'm ready for next year, though. Blue is much more my color."

The two of you shared a laugh, before Carlos leaned over to end the moment with a hug. "I love you, hermanita."

"Love you too, Carlitos."

As you and Carlos embraced, you heard a door open slightly. Rebecca appeared, smile evident on her face, happy to see Carlos back in your good graces.

"Anyone down for a late night ice cream run?"

yourusername posted stories

story 2 caption: making them pay for my ice cream like: 🥺 👉👈 i'm just a baby

story replies to story 1:

user1 LANY/N ANTHEM???

user2 "we were supposed to be just friends" omg omg omg

yourbestfriend dude has my girl posting love songs on main already 😭😭😭

yourusername 😂

landonorris is this what they call a soft launch

yourusername 😂🫣 maybe landonorris hmm brb yourusername huh?

story replies to story 2:

yoursister hahaha he really said here have some ice cream pls forgive me

yourusername no but fr 💀

user3 girl you can't just post that song and move on this quickly!!

landonorris posted a story

story replies:

danielricciardo is little lando norris in love???

yourusername 🥹😭

landonorris ❤️

user1 oh ya'll are in LOVEEEE

user2 you guys ain't slick posting these back to back 😭

carlossainz55 thanks a lot, she won't stop playing this song now

oscarpiastri okay I DEFINITELY missed a chapter

a/n: yep there will be a part 3 because I can't stop myself lol if you'd like to be tagged, let me know!

tag list: @npcmia @tinyhrry @that-one-little-soybean

[cassiesc0rner]

Impurities

Synopsis: You’re the new girl at East Highland High, your only goal is to get through school. Until you come across Nate Jacobs

Genre: suggestive, slight angst,

Pairing: Nate x fem!reader

Warnings: manipulation, lying, misogyny, slutshaming, reader has a negative body image/implied body dismorphia, dark themes, slightly suggestive but no smut in this one, let me know if I missed something

Song rec: music to watch boys to - lana del rey

WC: +8.6k (oops)

Other parts: previous part, next part

A/N: This is my first upload on tumblr help?? Also English isn’t my first language so please keep that in mind and be nice :,) feedback is always appreciated!! Currently working on part 2 ᥫ᭡

You were the perfect prey for Nate

You were cute, just so fucking cute that it almost drove him crazy, and so polite during lessons, never refusing anyone anything, whether they asked for a pen, or if they could copy your homework, which you always had ready. In his eyes, you were perfect, the only right choice for him.

He knew you wouldn’t fuck up the way Cassie or Maddy did, you wouldn’t disappoint him like they did.

Sure, your style wasn't his thing at all -not that you dressed awful or anything, you were really into y2k, and just loved wearing baggy jeans or any jeans for that matter, and graphic tops combined with sparkly accessories, chains and rings.

He wished you'd wear something more... feminine, like skirts and cute dresses, that show off your assumingly perfect body, he also wished you'd wear brighter colors.

Another thing he loved about you, was that you were really smart and didn't seem to pay attention to boys at all, which surprised him because he was used to girls being all over boys, only wanting one thing from them and he hated it because they were all so predictable.

But you weren’t.

It also kind of scared him at the same time though, because what if you just really weren't into boys to begin with?

He didn't know much about you except for the fact that you loved music, movies and tv shows. Or at least that's what you said, when you had to introduce yourself to the new class.

It had been just a few days prior that he had broken up with Cassie at that time, but he was sure that in this moment, when you stood there in front of the class, with your trembling hands, shy smile and quiet voice, he was head over heels for you.

You just enrolled to East Highland High, you knew no one yet. That had to be his biggest advantage ever, since you didn't know about any of the bad things Nate has done so far, and no one could take you away from him once he earned your trust. Because why would you trust anyone else more than him?

It was your third day at the new school when he decided to approach you.

During lunch break you sat alone, listening to music as you tried to subtly look around the huge cafeteria, searching for someone else who was alone.

Everyone shared their table with at least two other students, except for you and some other girl that sat alone as well.

You considered approaching her and sitting with her, maybe she was nice and maybe she had other friends? But you decided not to do it, because maybe you'd disturb her or something. You sighed and scrolled through your phone, when you suddenly noticed someone standing in front of your table.

You slowly looked up and noticed it was one of your classmates. You quickly fished one of your earbuds out and stopped the music "Hey.." You said, as you smiled at him. He smiled back at you, the smile genuine as he replied "Hey, can I sit for a moment?" he gestured towards the chair in front of you.

You were confused.

Confused because he wanted to sit with you? Yes, you were new to East Highland High, but this wasn't the first school you ever attended. You could tell who's popular and who isn't.

And Nate Jacobs was definitely popular. He had to be.

Quaterback, extremely tall, and extremely good looking, there was no way he just wanted to sit and talk to someone like you. What if he's gonna bully me? Take my lunch money and beat me up? But that would be absurd.. right?

You nodded before removing the other earbud as well. "What're you listening to?" He asked, genuinely curious "Oh... um... just Lana Del Rey." You said nervously as you looked at your phone, too scared to look him in the eyes.

"Oh cool.. which song?" He'd be lying if he said he knew literally any Lana Del Rey song besides Summertime Sadness and Video Games, but he wanted to know nonetheless. Maybe he'd listen to it at home to check out what kind of music you listen to "It's called..." You hesitated for a moment before finally saying "'Music to watch boys to'" You knew how that sounded.

Nate chuckled once he heard the name of the song and saw your flustered expression "Is that what you're doing? Listening to music while you're watching the boys here?" He joked. You chuckled nervously "No, really that's the last thing I'd do. I'm trying not to look at anyone longer than a second." You smiled as you locked eyes with him for seemingly less than 0.5 seconds.

Nate nodded "Yeah, I can tell." He cleared his throat "Just came over to introduce myself since you're new and everything." He reached over the table, stopping right in front of your phone, inviting you to shake his hand "I'm Nate."

You knew that already, since the two of you had classes together and you paid attention during attendance, to memorize the names of some of your classmates.

You carefully reached over and shook his extremely large hand. "I'm y/n, but you probably know that already." You once again chuckled nervously, thinking back to the painful introduction you went through at each and every new lesson you went to.

"Yeah, right." He nodded, smiling as his mind went there as well. During maths, arts, and English, he was lucky enough to see you introduce yourself over and over again. You slowly retrieved your hand again and Nate couldn't help but feel sad at the loss of contact.

He took a look around the cafeteria before setting his gaze back onto you "So, why are you sitting here all alone?" He asked in a slightly less playful tone "Hm.. I don't know," You shrugged "I guess I just don't know how to approach people." You smiled again.

What Nate had noticed in this short amount of time, is how often you smiled at him, and how you tried to keep that expression.

He didn't only notice it in this moment while he sat in front of you, but also during lessons, whenever someone talked to you, you rarely kept a neutral expression, always a friendly smile on your lips.

You were unbelievably insecure.

Always trying to remain friendly, out of fear of being perceived as unfriendly or unapproachable or anything that could be perceived as negative. He got you figured out faster than you could've imagined.

When he didn't respond, you continued "I actually considered talking to that girl over there, since she's alone as well.."

Nate looked over to the girl you were referring to before smirking and looking back to you "I wouldn't do that." You frowned in confusion "Why? Is she mean or something?" Nate shook his head "She just... doesn't talk, I don't think I've ever seen her talk to anyone before. She always sits alone and stares... into the void or something, even during lessons she barely responds to the teachers." he pointed out.

You sighed "Wow... And I thought I was socially incompetent." He chuckled and shook his head "No believe me, it can always be worse." You nodded and smiled again. Once you didn't reply, Nate continued "But, to be honest, you don't seem socially incompetent at all. You actually seem fun to be around."

You looked up at him again, this time for a bit longer than 0,5 seconds, and raised your eyebrows "You think so?" Nate nodded "Yeah, of course, you don't?"

You thought for a moment am I actually fun to be around? It had honestly been ages since you had actual friends. Sure, you had classmates at your previous schools, who met up with you from time to time. But it never felt like an actual friendship, with trust and sincerity.

You figured that you just weren't easy or fun to be around, that you just bored them eventually, even though you tried to be as fun as possible.

But your parents also played a big role.

Your mom has been strict and didn't want you to go out with friends too much, because she was scared you'd get hurt. She constantly fought with you and your father, because neither you nor your dad shared the same amount of paranoia she seemed to have.

And your dad was constantly moving cities, and even states with the two of you, whenever he had a new, better job offer. East Highland High was probably your third highschool so far, and even if you wanted to stay polite and make friends, you didn't want them to get too close to you, because the moment you had to move it'd be over anyways.

"I don't... know.." You said, and for the first time your smile actually faded. Not into a sad expression, but your smile just seemed to slip, and Nate felt like he got just the slightest bit closer to you.

"I don't really have any friends outside of school, and since I have none here either.." You shrugged again, not sure what to tell him. He nodded "Well.. you have me now, we can be friends." You looked up at him again, your eyes wide. You waited for him to laugh and tell you that all of this was a prank or something, but he didn't.

"Um... Thank you, but you really don't have to do that. I bet you already have plenty of friends." Nate shook his head and said "You can never have enough friends," He had a point, not everyone lived a socially awkward life like you did "besides, as I said, you seem cool to be around." He added.

"Thank you, I'd love to be your friend." You responded with another smile. Nate couldn't believe that he got this close to you in just five minutes, and that you didn't seem to question any of his intentions at all. In his eyes, he didn't only achieve his goals for the day, he also did you a huge favour.

You had someone you could count on, someone to hang out with, you weren’t alone anymore.

Then the doorbell rang, informing everyone that the break was over now.

"Alright, we have maths now, let’s go together, yeah?" He asked as he got up. You nodded and grabbed your phone, stuffing it in your bag before you got up as well.

Two weeks passed after you first talked to Nate, and as it turns out, he really seemed to be your friend.

You went shopping together, spent time mostly at your place, because your mom wanted to keep an eye on him since he was a stranger and most importantly a boy, and you even went to his football game once. You seemed truly happy whenever you were with him.

A little too happy for your own liking.

Because deep down you knew you might have to leave him behind eventually, or that he'd get bored of you at some point.

Not to mention that you, against your own will, developed a small crush on him. But who could blame you when he was the first boy who ever truly cared for you like he did? Or bought you gifts and showered you with affection like he did?

Yeah that was another thing that Nate did. He loved buying things for you.

At first it were just small things like ice cream from the gas station, or snacks from vending machines. But eventually, the gifts got bigger and bigger despite you telling him that you couldn’t possibly pay him back.

Sure, your dad's job did pay him a lot, but you were sure that Nate's dad had to earn at least twice as much for his son to be able to buy that many things.

Last time you two went to the mall and he saw a pair of earrings for more than 200$, he dragged you along with him and showed them to you saying "They'd look so pretty on you." It almost felt like he was your boyfriend.

Usually the girls in the movies you watched would pressure their boyfriends into buying them expensive jewelry, and into spending their money on them, but Nate seemed to be the other way he around.

He was pressuring you into allowing him to spend his money on you.

Just like that day when the two of you went into another boutique, because Nate convinced you that "it'll be fun!", to put it in his words.

The moment you stepped into the boutique, you felt somewhat uneasy. You walked in with your ripped jeans and tank top on, and the only clothes you saw were dresses, skirts, and tops that you'd never consider buying. Not to mention the shoes that they sold, looked nowhere near as comfortable as your sneakers did.

Nate knew that.

He only had to look at your face for a split second to know what you're feeling. You felt like you wouldn't fit in, or like these clothes wouldn't suit you. But he knew how to convince you.

He spent two entire weeks with you after all.

Any normal person would say that's not enough to fully know somebody, but Nate had his ways of finding out almost every insecurity, fear and worry of yours, just by subtly asking the right questions.

And none of them shocked him, since he already figured out that you were socially anxious and insecure.

But he also knew what you needed. You craved someone who loves you and gives you constant reassurance, someone who tells you what to do and who to go out with, like your mom did, because that's all you knew your entire life.

You needed to be loved and touched, craving intimacy with literally anyone, because you never had friends who'd hug you tightly when you were anxious, or hold you close when you needed it, and your parents didn't either.

And he could give you all of that and more, once the time was right.

He also figured that you haven't had a boyfriend yet, or haven't been intimate with anyone yet, and that thought alone made him crave you even more, if that was even possible.

The fact that he would be your first everything, was enough to get him going, and motivated him to show you your true potential.

And he knows that you’d let him.

He always dreamt about how easily you'd let him have his way with you, and how he'd corrupt you. Nate had sadistic thoughts as well, fantasizing about making you cry and beg him for forgiveness for something that wasn’t even your fault.

He also dreamt of leaving marks and bruises all over your body, so that you and everyone else knew you’re his.

But he wouldn't want to hurt you, he knew from experience how bad that could end for him.

And the moment he saw your innocent eyes looking up at him and your smile while doing so, the violent thoughts got replaced with the need to protect you from any man that even just walked near you.

"You okay?" He asked casually before he walked towards one of the racks with skirts. "Mhm.. I just don't think I want to buy anything here, Nate..." You said as you nervously looked down at your feet, feeling bad for possibly disappointing him.

Nate turned around and looked at you "Don't you want to try something on at least?" Before he let you respond, he came up with an idea "How about this, I'll put together an outfit and you can try it on and see for yourself if you like it or not." He asked, but it was more of a demand than a question.

You sighed and looked around the store, noticing that they also had jeans skirts, and a dark red leather skirt that you thought was really pretty. Nate's eyes followed your gaze and he immediately started searching for something he wanted you to try on.

Sure, a jeans skirt might be a good start as well, since it might make you feel a bit more comfortable and at least show off your legs, but the leather skirt was just absolutely slutty in his eyes. He didn't want you to walk around at school -or anywhere for that matter- like that, like you're 'asking for it'.

While you walked towards the two skirts, Nate walked towards another section. He picked out a pastel pink short sleeve top, with a bow in the middle and a sweetheart neckline. He smirked as he imagined you inside the rather tight top, knowing that he's the only guy that would be near you while all the other boys could only dream of being close to you.

He then picked out a pair of black flats, which he knew you wouldn't be opposed to, simply because of the color alone, white stockings and a white and pink plaid mini skirt.

Then he walked over to you, as you still looked at the various skirts. "y/n, your outfit is ready!" Nate exclaimed once he was behind you, and you couldn't help but flinch as he pulled you out of your daydream.

You turned around and looked at his full hands, trying not to grimace at the bright colours. The shoes looked alright however, and where the only dark piece of clothing. "Nate, that won't suit me," you said as he handed you the clothes over "are you sure you want me to try it on?" you didn't even finish the question before he nodded.

You sighed before walking towards the changing room. "I'll wait outside until you're done." he said before you closed the door.

Once it was closed you sighed once more and started to undress. You liked Nate, more than just in a friendly platonic way, and if any other guy would've told you to dress up like that, you definitely would've refused.

But Nate did so many nice things for you, the least you could do was to make him laugh for a bit. Because you already expected that that's what he'll do once he sees you in this outfit.

Once you were left in your underwear you looked into the mirror, feeling insecure. You didn't like your body at all. You just weren't shaped like the girls on the cheer squad, and you also didn't seem to have their proportions. And now you had to wear a skirt that would expose your huge legs and belly.

You felt sick at the thought of Nate seeing you in this outfit. You looked at the skirt and panicked because what if he thought you're skinnier, and he picked the wrong size? You'd have to tell him to get you a size bigger, and it would be super embarrassing.

You put on the top first and gulped when you noticed how tight it was, your chest on display. But you were sure it was supposed to sit a bit tighter. Then you shakily grabbed the skirt and put it on, and surprisingly it closed and sat perfectly fine. Except for the fact that it was quite short.

You then put on the stockings which ended right above your knee, and the shoes. You looked into the mirror again and turned to the side, throwing various poses to check it out from different angles.

And then you frowned, because for some reason the fit looked pretty cute, but... would you actually go out like this? Definitely no- "Are you ready?" Nate asked impatiently. You started to contemplate whether or not you wanted Nate to actually see you like that.

"Um... y-yes but it looks really stupid i'm gonna undress again-""No!" he almost yelled, startling you "Please let me see, I bet it looks good." he rolled his eyes, glad that you couldn't see him behind that door.

He liked that you weren't too confident or too sure of yourself and needed his reassurance, but he really wished you'd actually listen to him right now.

And then you finally opened the door "Come in.." and it really took everything in him to not rip the door open and gawk at you.

He gently opened the door and looked at you, his eyes wandering from your head, which was hung low as if in shame, to your exposed cleavage, to the way the stockings hugged your legs, to your shoes.

He had to control himself or else he'd pop a boner right here, right in front of you, because, god you looked so pretty. With the way your hands were fidgeting again just like the first time he saw you. You looked so shy and submissive under his gaze.

"You look so pretty..." he said in a serious tone, so serious in fact, that you immediately looked up at him. "Really? I feel kinda..." you didn't dare to finish the sentence.

The last time you called yourself fat in front of him, he almost lost it. He got just as serious as he was right now, saying that you looked fine and that there was absolutely nothing wrong with you.

Sure you weren't shaped like Maddy was, and you didn't have the perfect thigh gap, but Nate was aware that you were extremely pretty nonetheless. You were almost perfect, and everything that wasn't perfect would be taken care of.

Like your style.

This was a small step for him but a huge one for you, and it would be an even bigger step for you to dress like that on the daily, but he's sure he can help you with that.

"Seriously, you look absolutely.. wow." he added, and it only got you more flustered. Maybe dressing like this isn't so bad if Nate thinks it's pretty, hell even if he's the only who thinks so, his words affected you more than anything anyone at East Highland High could possibly say. "Wow.. Thank you.."

He cleared his throat and took a step closer, towering over you even more. "You obviously don't have to listen to me,” he lied “but... I personally think it looks better than your usual dark outfits." When you looked back into the mirror he continued "You shouldn't hide behind those… wide pants and loose tops, you should wear more outfits like this and show everyone how pretty you look."

When he saw you smile, he knew he had you where he wanted you. It wasn't just a forced smile, it was a real one, a flustered one. You loved that he found you pretty, even if you couldn't see it for yourself. And he knew how important his opinion was to you.

Hearing his compliments alone made you want to change your style a little, just so that he doesn't change his opinion. "You really think this fits me?" You asked one more time to make sure that he actually meant it.

He nodded eagerly placing his hands onto your shoulders "I promise." He felt like he could melt with the way you were looking up at him "I would never lie to you, you know that, right?" As if in trance you looked into his eyes and nodded.

"Yeah of course." You smiled up at him, feeling so small in front of him. "I'll try to check for cheaper options though, if you don't mind. Maybe something that isn't from an expensive boutique." you chuckled. He frowned instantly before responding "No, keep the outfit, I'll pay for it."

You shook your head right away, thinking back to the expensive things he had bought you already. "Nate, you need to stop spending so much money on me, I mean it. I highly doubt that i'm the only friend you spend that much money on."

Nate tried not to laugh at your statement. Of course you were the only person he spent that much money on.

As if he'd buy McKay, or any of his other 'friends' for that matter, anything above 10 bucks. "Y/n, I promise I’m not spending too much money." You wanted to believe him, but deep down you knew why Nate did all this.

Or at least you thought you did.

He was used to being used for money by his friends, there couldn't be another explanation, it had to be the reason. Why else would he feel the need to buy you, who he saw as his friend, so many expensive things?

"And also I kinda forced you to try it on, it's the right thing to do, trust me." You sighed shaking your head in disbelief "Fine, but you really don't have to, you know that?" He nodded as a smile made its way onto his lips.

He wished he could kiss you right now, but needless to say that wasn't possible yet. He couldn't wait for the day he would finally have you to himself, safe and happy with him. Walking next to you, with your hand in his, he could already imagine Cassie's and Maddy's faces when they see the two of you.

Nate wasn't blind nor oblivious, he saw the way Cassie eyed you like she wanted to murder you, or the way Maddy would shake her head whenever she looked at the two of you walking down the hallway.

Sure he had to come up with a plausible story before one of them could get to you without him noticing, and ruin his perfect plan. He honestly doesn't know what would happen to them if they decided to ruin his plan.

But that wasn't important right now.

What mattered was that you finally owned the perfect outfit, only because of him, and you’d only wear it for him too. You didn't even talk back or hesitate as much as he had expected.

Everything was going according to plan, and it was only a matter of time until you would cave in fully and listen to him all the time.

The next day you got ready for school, and decided to put on the outfit Nate had gotten you the day prior, but combined with a long cardigan to prevent you from flashing anyone at school.

Not to mention your mom who would probably freak out once she saw your outfit for school.

You brushed your hair, and put on the earrings Nate bought you previously. They were beautiful, dangling bows with a small diamond in the middle.

You told Nate he didn't have to buy them for you and that you'd find a cheaper variant online, but he insisted nonetheless.

You wondered what it would be like to be his girlfriend as you applied your lipstick.

Not that you'd actually ever be his girlfriend. He probably wouldn't even consider dating me.. was all you could think. And you also wouldn't ever consider actually dating him.

What if you'd have to move again? It wouldn't only break your heart, but his too.

"Y/n?" Your mom pulled you out of your thoughts as she stood in front of your now open door -because knocking was completely overrated anyways.

She gave you a disapproving look as her eyes moved up and down your frame. You hadn't put on the cardigan yet, so you could only assume what she's thinking. "What are you wearing?" She finally spoke.

You sighed as you looked down at your feet. "Mom I-" She immediately shook her head "Nate told you to wear this, didn't he?" You groaned in frustration, all hopes of avoiding any confrontation now gone.

Your mom scoffed at your lack of response. "Have you seen yourself? You look like..." You raised your head and looked at your mom "Like what?" She crossed her arms and sighed "Like someone else!"

You knew that this wasn't what came to her mind first, but decided not to comment on it. "No one forced me to wear this. I wanted to wear this." Your mom frowned, not believing you one bit.

And even if you wanted to go to school like that, she felt sick at the thought of all the boys seeing her daughter in such an outfit. "Get changed, right now."  Was all she said before turning around and leaving your room.

You stomped after her "I'm going to be late to school if I change now!" you yelled as you followed her into the kitchen where your dad sat, completely unfazed by the argument which was taking place.

"That's your own fault, and don't yell at me like that." She responded, not even looking at you. "Mom, I'm not going to change."

She turned around once she grabbed her mug from the kitchen counter. "Oh but you are already. You are changing, because you would never wear something like this, especially not to school."

"Am I not allowed to change my style once in a while? You never approve of the way I dress anyways so why are you making a big deal out of this now?." She shook her head once again "You don't get it, y/n. You're... changing, as in ‘you’re becoming someone that you’re not’!" you scoffed in disbelief "I'm a teenager, of course I'm changing."

You turned away from your parents, and made your way to the hallway to put your shoes on. Once you reached your shoes you heard footsteps following you "You're really gonna go to school like that?" Your mom asked.

Once you slipped into one shoe you turned around and nodded. "You're grounded young lady, I hope you're aware of that." You slipped into the other shoe as you responded "I've been grounded my entire life, mom. Try harder." you said as you pushed past her to get your backpack.

Your mother just stood in the hallway, completely baffled. But before she could think of anything to say, you left the house already. Quickly making your way to Nate's truck.

Nate loved picking you up from home.

He wished you'd let him pick you up anywhere anytime, no matter where you were, but you only let him pick you up when you both had the same lessons in the morning.

He had told you that he'd pick you up even if you started earlier than him, but you immediately brushed it off.

Once you saw him your frown disappeared and you tried to smile again.

But Nate noticed. He always noticed when you were frowning, and when he saw your outfit he could already imagine what or specifically who made you frown.

To say that Nate disliked your parents would be an understatement. Whenever he would come over to your place, your mom would eye him and make snarky remarks.

Not only that, but she would sometimes enter your room -without knocking of course- every ten minutes to check on you, always with some sort of excuse as to why, just to make sure that the two of you weren't doing anything she would disapprove of.

He couldn't even hug you goodbye when he'd leave because when he did it once, your mom eyed him as if he was hurting you.

And your dad? He didn't know if he hated him even more.

He was barely there when Nate came over, and whenever you'd talk about him you would complain about him never caring about your arguments with your mom. He simply stayed out of it until it would annoy him, then he'd simply tell his wife to 'calm down' and that you 'shouldn't overreact'

And if you still wouldn't stop fighting with her, he'd simply get up and smoke outside or drive off to god knows where.

Having an overbearing mother and an absent father didn't do you any good, he'd gladly just have you move in with him, but his dad was probably even worse to live with than yours was.

"Everything alright?" Nate asked once you stepped inside the car, put your seatbelt on and sighed. You nodded, not looking at him "My mom's just mad at me because I'm wearing this to school today.." you explained as you fidgeted with your skirt.

That's when you noticed that you totally forgot to put on your cardigan in the heat of the moment. You mentally face palmed, knowing that you'd have to walk around like that without being able to hide at least a little bit of your body.

Nate nodded as he started the car. "I'm sorry to hear that... She’s always picking fights with you for no reason..." You nodded as you looked out of the passenger's window.

He looked at your thighs, which were just slightly on display, and fuck he would do everything just to touch them.

He decided to test the waters and reassuringly placed his hand on your thigh. You flinched slightly, not expecting the sudden gesture, but you didn't react in any way, which relieved him a lot.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, yeah? You can always come to my place or call me and I'll be there to pick you up and get your mind off things, alright?" You nodded with a soft smile on your lips.

You slowly turned back to him "Where have you been all my life? I would've needed you way sooner." Nate tried to contain his happiness.

You telling him you needed him, letting him touch your thigh and wearing his outfit? He was sure that he was the happiest man alive right now.

"Yeah, I also wish I could've been there sooner. But I'm here now, and I'm not gonna leave again." he assured. You placed your hand atop his on your thigh and nodded "Thank you.."

Everything was going so so well, until this Jake guy from your arts class decided to speak to you. He must've seen you with Nate, the two of you were almost inseparable after all. Did he have a death wish or something?

The way he looked at you as well, it made him sick.

You didn't even notice it, you were your usual friendly self, telling him something Nate couldn't make out from his seat, two rows behind the two of you. But it couldn't have possibly been funny enough for him to laugh so hard, that he had to place his hand on your shoulder for support.

He never cared much about Jake, never even talked to the guy, but he'd love to beat the shit out of him right now. Only stopping when you tell him to.

But based on your personality, you'd probably stop him right away.

Nate had more than enough however, when the guy still had his hand on your shoulder after ten seconds.

Nate got up, the sound of the chair scraping along the tiles on the floor so loud, that both you and Jake turned around right away.

Nate stared daggers into Jake as he made his way to the two of you, resulting in Jake's eyes widening slightly and him finally removing his hand from your shoulder "Move." was all Nate needed to say for Jake to smile at you one last time before immediately getting up and walking to his friend's desk.

You frowned at Nate not sure what had gotten into him. "Are you mad? Is everything okay?" You asked, worry evident on your face.

He was more than happy that you reacted this way and didn't ask him what the fuck was wrong with him for scaring the poor guy like that.

He shook his head before smiling "Everything's fine don't worry.. Jake's just really flirty with every girl that he sees, I just wanted to protect you." he reasoned.

You frowned, not aware that Jake has ever flirted with any girls in your classes, or you to begin with. He just seemed friendly, but you brushed it off nonetheless, knowing that Nate probably knew him better than you did.

"Wait, you’ve never had a boyfriend?" Nate asked in feigned disbelief, as you two sat in his living room after school one day. You shook your head in response as you waited for Nate to laugh at you.

Except, he didn't.

It only made him happier that you finally confirmed his theory.

He didn't expect you to have any ex-partners, since you told him you never really socialized or had stable friendships with anyone in the past.

He figured you also hadn't been in a relationship as well then. But your confirmation only made him happier. And you didn't seem like the type to just sleep with the next best boy you meet so he figured you also must be a virgin.

And he was eating it up.

Whenever he'd jerk himself off, he’d think about you and how fucking amazing you'd feel around him. How shy you would be in front of him once you two got intimate for the first time.

And after every time he came, he craved you even more. It took everything within him to refrain from picking you up and carrying you in his bed whenever you came over.

But he always told himself that the wait would be worth it.

He'd wait just for you, no matter how long it'd take.

"I just never got to form that kind of connection with anyone, since I barely talk to people.." You said as you played with the hem of your red sundress.

Yeah, you also started wearing dresses.

You told yourself that Nate wasn't the reason for it, but you knew that without him, you would have never considered wearing them in the first place.

You saw the way he looked at that one cheerleader, during one of his games last week and despite the fact that you never wanted to date him, you couldn't help but feel the urge to be... perfect in front of him.

Nate also noticed that.

Before, you'd just wear your baggy jeans to school, preferring comfort over style. But ever since last week, you seemed to constantly wear dresses and skirts.

Not only that, but you also did your best to appeal to him. You wore more make up, you shaved your arms despite not being too hairy to begin with. You pout so much effort into looking even more beautiful than you were already.

He wasn't sure why though, because he didn't push you that much after you went to the boutique. He was praying that you only do it for him and not to impress any other boy at school though.

"Besides, it's useless anyways. Who knows when my father is gonna move again.." You said, suddenly feeling sad as you thought about your life without Nate.

Nate considered that as well.

He didn't like the idea at all and he'd do anything to stop that from happening. To stop your parents from taking you away from him.

Hell, he'd buy you a flat somewhere if he has to, or have you move in with him if that's what it took.

Nate took your hand in his, brushing his thumb over your knuckles "Hey, don't think about that alright? We'll find a solution if that should happen." he said reassuringly.

You nodded, a small smile on your face. You loved it when Nate was affectionate. You seemed to be the only person he was genuinely nice to.

"What about you though? I bet you had plenty of relationships." You grinned, his hand still comfortably wrapped around yours.

Nate chuckled "Yeah I didn't have that many relationships, but the ones I had were… intense." He answered "Oh, that bad?" you asked as you frowned at him.

He was more than glad you asked, because now he could finally tell you about Maddy and Cassie in a subtle way.

Once he was done, you’d never even consider believing them.

He nodded in response "Yeah... I was with Maddy for a pretty long time, do you know her?" he asked, hoping to find out whether she's talked to you or not.

You thought for a moment before nodding your head. "I think she's in one of my classes. Maddy... Perez?" Nate nodded, swallowing hard.

He was hoping you didn't know her, praying that the both of you never cross paths. But that was hopeless considering how popular she was.

"She's.. definitely something." You chuckled dryly as you couldn't help but compare yourself to her.

You didn't stand a chance with Nate if that's his type.

You always thought she was really pretty, and since she was on the cheerleading team, you knew she must be popular too. You always saw her with her group of friends and you admired her style, her beauty, her confidence, everything.

But she always seemed to give you weird looks and now you could imagine why. She probably was still in love with Nate, and didn’t like him having female friends.

Nate noticed the smile on your face falter just a slight bit, and he could only assume that she must've treated you badly that bitch, always causing fucking problems

"What do you mean?" You shrugged, unsure of how to explain it "She just... She's really pretty and I like her style. I wanted to compliment her before but she always gives me this look." You responded, your gaze locked onto the carpet.

Nate frowned at the thought of her.

How dare she even look your way? And how dare she make you feel uncomfortable? He could imagine why she was looking at you though, probably annoyed by how much time you and him spend, and how obedient you were already.

Something she could never do.

"But maybe I'm just imagining things, I might be a bit paranoid.. She's really pretty though, I bet the two of you looked great together.." Nate cringed at your words.

He couldn’t stand her, and the thought of everything he did for her, despite her acting like a bitch all the time, made his blood boil. The sound of her voice alone gave him chills, reminding him of how often she’d yell at him in front of her friends.

He's sure that you and him would look way better together.

"I'm honestly glad we're not together anymore.. She was awfully mean, and just so ungrateful." he sighed as he looked to the ground. "She constantly blamed me for everything when she was clearly at fault, fuck, she even..."

You weren't sure if you've seen Nate so vulnerable before, so hurt and all because of that girl. "…She even cheated on me at a party, in front of everyone, just because we had an argument." your eyes widened.

You did not expect Maddy to be such a bad person. Especially to someone like Nate, he seemed like he'd give his all to the person he loves. He was giving you his all and you weren't even his girlfriend.

You removed your hand from his, and scooted closer to him, wrapping your arm around his firm back and leaning your head against his arm. "I'm so sorry Nate.. you didn't deserve that.." You said as you stroked his back.

Nate suddenly got goosebumps, not expecting you to hug him like that. He was convinced he deserved an oscar for that performance, that's for sure. He leaned into your touch, enjoying how close he was to you, and the sweet scent of your perfume.

"It's alright... I got over it eventually. Sometimes people just disappoint you and you have to learn to live with it." he responded.

Which was an absolute fucking lie.

He still wanted to hurt her for humiliating him like that back at the pool, and he also still prays for her downfall and a chance to humiliate her just as bad.

You lifted your head and looked at him "We don't have to speak about her anymore if you don't want to. I'll even slap her for you if you want." you said half jokingly.

You'd never purposefully hurt anyone, or risk being the center of attention at school. But you just wanted to see Nate happy. He seemed so sad right now and even if he said he's over it, you knew he wasn't.

Nate chuckled before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you flat against his chest "There's no need for that. I'm just glad that you're here right now, you're all I need." He said as he stroked your shoulder.

You tried not to freak out.

The fact that he held you so close and literally told you that you're all he needed made you feel things, you didn't want to feel.

You didn't want to feel like he liked you more than just in a platonic way. You didn't want to get your hopes up, hell you didn't even want to have a crush on him.

You were so sure that you didn't have a chance, especially when he told you who his ex girlfriend was, but then why did he treat you like that? Why did he tell you you were all he needed?

“Do you also know Cassie, by chance?” he asked after a moment of silence. You thought for a moment, before shaking your head. He sighed, both in relief and in annoyance as he remembered her.

“Cassie and I also used to date. But she turned into an absolute psycho after some time. She was totally obsessed with me…” Nate explained before he sighed. “If she ever talks to you, tell me, alright? Same with Maddy, don’t talk to any of them.” he added suddenly very serious.

You nodded in response “What exactly did she do..? If you don’t mind me asking.” You asked carefully, since it seemed to be a touchy subject for him.

“She was.. possessive, unpredictable, and insecure. I was scared of her sometimes I can’t even lie... She just has this insane look in her eyes, at first I didn’t notice it but as our relationship progressed, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.”

Your eyes widened once again. If she really was that possessive over Nate, what if she thinks you two are together? Would she actually hurt you? You swallowed hard at the thought.

Nate observed your reaction, taking notice of how pale you became suddenly He didn't mean to scare you, but he had to warn you, in order to protect you from both of them.

"Jeez, that's... actually scary." you chuckled dryly, not sure how to react to the newfound information. "Don't worry though, I'll protect you from them, you got nothing to worry about." he said as he looked at you longingly.

Would it be too soon to ask you to be his now?

Probably the wrong moment to ask you, since he just told you about his crazy ex girlfriends. But he didn't want to wait any longer, he couldn't wait much longer.

Not when his need for you became stronger and stronger.

Sure, being your friend and spending time with you was amazing. You were sweet, funny and you wouldn't refuse him a thing. But it wasn't enough for him, not really.

He needed to act soon, because it frustrated him more and more each day. Nate just had to catch you talking to a boy from your class and it made him furious.

Not to mention how sexually frustrated he was.

His hand was not enough to satisfy him anymore, he craved so much more and that only caused him to be insufferable at times, unable to relax and always in a bad mood.

He really tried his hardest not to lash out on you like he did on McKay or his teammates. He was sure that if Cassie dared to approach him or you he'd absolutely lose his shit.

“Didn’t know you were home yet.”

You and Nate turned towards the person who just entered the living room in unison. It was Nate’s brother Aaron.

Great.

Nate rolled his eyes and sighed. Why was he home already? “Yeah, school ended earlier today.” He replied drily. He did not want Aaron to interact with you in any way, since he knew how off putting he could be.

“Let’s go,” Nate got up as he looked at you with a cold expression. You knew not to ask any questions when he got like this, so you just nodded and got up from the sofa.

“Woah, who are you? New girlfriend?” Your eyes widened as you laughed nervously “Oh, n-no we’re just really good friends.” You stated as you smiled at his brother.

And it bothered Nate so much. Why were you smiling at him? He knew you only wanted to be polite, but it bothered him because Aaron wasn’t worthy of your politeness or smile.

He wanted to be the only guy you smile at, even though that’s basically impossible with how fucking nice you were.

Aaron smiled back at you, as he playfully tilted his head to the side “That’s surprising, d’you have a boyfriend already?” He asked before he looked you up and down “Because you’re definitely Nate’s type.”

The room fell silent for a moment, mostly because you didn’t know what to say to that at all, and because Nate tried his hardest not to turn into an aggressive asshole in front of you.

You once again chuckled nervously, before you swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling like your heart would jump out any moment. “Um… I don’t have a boyfriend and I’m sure that I’m not Nate’s type.”

You didn’t even know why you said the last part, because you could tell that Nate was fuming more and more with each word you said to him. Before Aaron could respond, Nate did “Alright enough, Aaron, we’ll head upstairs now if you don’t mind.”

Aaron sighed exaggeratedly “That’s too bad, I really enjoyed the company of…?” he said as he looked towards you now “Y/n.” You responded, and Aaron nodded “Y/n, go ahead, you know where my room is.” Nate commanded.

You really wish it didn’t, but his demanding tone and sudden change of persona really did something to you. It excited you in a way.

You nodded and walked towards the hallway, where Aaron was standing. Before you could pass him though, he moved in front of you, looking down at you with a predatory grin “You know, if Nate doesn’t want you, I’d be totally down-”

Your eyes widened in response as you heard Nate stomping towards the two of you.

Nate had more than enough by now, “Shut the fuck up already!” He almost yelled. Aaron chuckled “I was just joking around why’re you so mean in front of your cute little friend?” He mocked before smirking at you again.

Nate turned towards you, this time even more irritated “Go upstairs, now.” You gulped and finally moved towards the stairs again, quickly making your way up.

You were sitting on Nate’s bed as you could hear his deep voice downstairs and you were sure he’d actually beat his brother up. You couldn’t make out what he was saying except for a very loud “Stay the fuck away from her!”

You didn’t have to wait for long until Nate entered the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He eyed you with a mixture of possessiveness and longing but also with a hint of softness.

His mind was currently occupied with fantasies about fucking you on his bed, while you moan about how good he feels, and how he’s the only one you need, while his brother is forced to listen to your moans that echo through the entire house. Knowing he could never be lucky enough to be in his spot.

He wondered if you’d be into that? If you had this corrupt side that no one knew about. Maybe you fantasized about him as well?

“Sorry about my brother, he’s a fucking asshole.” Nate stated as he walked towards you. “I hope he didn’t make you feel too uncomfortable..” He added as his gaze softened.

You shook your head, your signature smile on your lips “No, don’t worry. Are you okay though? I hope you guys didn’t fight too hard..”

He loved how considerate you were despite everything that happened. Despite Nate being somewhat rude to you earlier, and his brother making you uncomfortable, you still cared for Nate.

“No, not much more than we usually do, don’t worry.” He sighed as he plopped down on the bed next to you. “Wanna watch a movie?” He asked as he tilted his head to the side. You smiled and nodded in response.

Nate turned his TV on and grabbed the remote before he plopped down onto his bed again. He scooted towards you, wrapping his arm around you and you could’ve sworn you’ve never felt more at peace than in moments like these. Nestled against him, comfortably on his bed.

And Nate felt the same way, if not even more at peace.

You were his escape from his fucked up family just as much as he was yours, and you were the only one he truly cared for besides himself. He couldn’t wait until he could finally call you his.

In his eyes you were his already, from the moment he first laid eyes on you. And he’s come so far, molded you into perfection. There’s no way he’d let you go.

All that was left now, was to make you officially his.

✎ Thank you so so so much for reading I hope you liked it :3 again don’t be shy to give me honest feedback, likes and reblogs are appreciated!! ♡

- Cassandra

[meleeyz]

ekko enemies to lovers? literally metal flowers was SO! GOOD! where reader is a pilte and she goes down with cait and vi in s1?

୭ 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗬 𝗣𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗜𝗘 ˚. ᵎᵎ

ekko 𝒙 fem!reader

୨୧ English is not my first language, so I'm sorry in advance if something reads strangely or is poorly written.

୨୧ Hello darling! Maybe this isn't exactly your idea (?), but I thought it would be fun to have a tension-filled conversation when the reader is supposed to be... you know, kidnapped. Tell me what you think! I'm also glad you liked the metal flowers one-shot 💞💞

୨୧ THANK YOU VERY VERY VERY MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT, THIS IS THE FIRST REQUEST I HAVE AND THAT MAKES ME VERY HAPPY, YOUR NICE COMMENTS ARE ALSO GREAT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH AGAIN 💓

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

It all happened too fast: Vi shouting warnings, the blue-haired lunatic and her sick laughter had been the least of your problems.

And now you were here, restrained in a damp, dimly lit room, the sack over your head smelling of grease and mildew. Caitlyn’s muffled voice called for you, distant and strained.

You tugged at the ropes binding your wrists to the chair, teeth gritted. The door creaked open, and hurried footsteps approached. The sack was pulled off. A Vastaya man loomed over you, his bat-like ears curling inwards as he studied you for a moment. Then, wordlessly, he left, closing the door behind him with a resonating clang.

Blinking against the sudden light, you glanced around, your gaze landing on someone seated across the room. He wore an owl mask, his posture lazy yet somehow threatening.

Your stomach churned. You’d seen him earlier—watching from the shadows as Silco’s men attacked. He hadn’t intervened then, just observed with unnerving intensity.

“Got something to say, or are you just going to keep staring?” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended.

The masked figure tilted his head, amusement evident in the way he leaned back.

“Staring at people like that? Kind of counts as harassment, you know,” you continued, forcing a smirk despite the pounding of your heart. “But hey, let me go, and we can settle this properly. I promise I’ll be… kind.”

The voice that responded came distorted through a modulator, low and mechanical. “You should learn to take care of that mouth. If it weren’t for the other two, you’d already be dead.”

Your eyebrows shot up, and despite yourself, you let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, I see how it is. Big bad owl man is bothered by my mouth? Then why didn’t you just kill me outright?”

His laugh echoed back at you, though his tone remained clipped. He stood, his figure tall and imposing as he stepped closer.

“Believe me,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “It was tempting.”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze—or what you assumed were his eyes—through the owl mask. “Oh, I’m trembling,” you deadpanned. “What a scary owl.”

His movements stilled for a moment, the tilt of his head indicating surprise. You pressed on, determined to keep the upper hand in this strange game.

“Let me guess,” you said, smirking again. “Sitting around in a mask all day makes you feel tough, huh? What’s next—dramatic monologues about justice?”

He chuckled, stepping even closer until he was towering over you. “You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, craning your neck to meet him. “You think this is guts? I just call it basic survival.”

For a moment, silence filled the space between you, tension crackling like static. Then, slowly, he reached up, his gloved fingers curling around the edge of his mask.

Your breath hitched, the weight of the moment sinking in as he pulled it away.

The first thing you noticed were his eyes—sharp, golden-brown, and filled with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. His features were striking, all sharp angles and raw intensity but softened.

You blinked, momentarily speechless, which was enough to make him laugh again. This time, it was unmodulated—rich and almost boyish, a stark contrast to his earlier demeanor.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his grin wide. “Cat got your tongue?”

Your mouth opened, then closed as you struggled for a response. The sheer absurdity of it hit you like a freight train. For all your mother’s warnings about suitors back in Piltover, none of them could hold a candle to him.

And, of course, he knew it.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said smugly, stepping back.

You clenched your fists, suddenly grateful for the handcuffs keeping you from doing something you’d probably regret.

“Don’t look so smug,” you said finally, recovering enough to glare at him. “You still kidnapped me, remember?”

“Kidnapped?” he repeated, feigning offense. “Rescued is more like it. You’re lucky I was watching.”

“Lucky?” you shot back. “You’ve got a twisted sense of gratitude.”

“Stick around. You might just learn something.”

You scowled, your cheeks warming despite yourself. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, as you sat there under the sharp gaze of the boy—no, young man—in the room. But his attention was no longer casual. His gaze was razor-edged, appraising.

“Enough games,” he said finally, his voice steady, though it carried an undertone of curiosity. “What do you know about the hextech gemstone?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you were caught off guard. Hextech? You wracked your brain, recalling snippets of overheard conversations.

“It’s… like an energy booster,” you said hesitantly, your brows furrowed. “Anyone can use it to build pretty much anything. Something about it being ‘limitless potential’ or whatever.”

Ekko tilted his head, clearly not expecting you to be so forthcoming.

“You just told me, just like that?”

“Why not?” you replied with a shrug. “You didn’t kill me, which is already better than everyone else we’ve run into today. If you’re not trying to gut me on sight, you can’t be that bad.”

His laugh came low, warm, and rough, as if you’d surprised him again.

“You’re either really brave or really stupid.”

“Bit of both,” you admitted, flashing a quick smile “So, what’s next? We keep playing twenty questions?”

He chuckled dryly, though his next words were serious.

“Alright, let’s talk about your friends. What’s their deal? And what’s your relationship with the Enforcer?”

You clamped your mouth shut, trying to suppress the laugh bubbling in your chest. But the harder you tried, the more it broke free, until you were shaking with quiet.

“Enforcer?” you finally choked out, wiping the corner of your eye with your shoulder. “Caitlyn’s more like… I don’t know, a girl playing dress-up as an Enforcer. Her mother would die if she let Cait face real danger.” You tilted your head toward him, smirking. “Like this.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish.

“Oh, and don’t leave the lovebirds alone too long,” you added, voice dripping with mock seriousness. “It seems like Cait’s taken a liking to the pink-haired one.”

That earned another huff of laughter from him. His gaze lingered on you, sharp yet tinged with reluctant amusement, as though trying to figure out whether you were always this reckless or just putting on a show.

“Alright, alright. My turn. That’s how this works, right?”

“That’s not how this works at all.”

“Sure it is,” you shot back, leaning forward as much as the restraints allowed. “If you were a conventional kidnapper, I wouldn’t have said a word. You’d have had to torture me for information—and, frankly, I don’t think you’d do it. Too soft.”

Ekko’s brow twitched, though he said nothing.

“Anyway, this isn’t a conventional kidnapping, right?” you added, your grin widening.

For a moment, he studied you, clearly debating whether to humor you. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he gestured vaguely.

“Fine. Ask your question.”

You leaned back, feigning nonchalance.

“What’s your name?”

He hesitated.

“Ekko.”

“Ekko,” you repeated, testing the name on your tongue. It suited him. “Alright, Ekko. Next question.”

He crossed his arms, his brows lifting in mock exasperation.

“I said one question.”

“You really need to loosen up,” you teased. “I want to learn how to ride that hoverboard of yours. That thing looks incredible.”

His lips twitched, but he kept his expression neutral.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah,” you said. “My wrists are starting to hurt. Being handcuffed is not exactly comfortable, you know.”

Ekko sighed, dragging a hand down his face, though you could see the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Pretty Piltie can’t handle a pair of handcuffs? I’ll free you when the time comes.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Don’t push it.”

“When the time comes,” he said again. “I’ll free you.”

“Ekko!” you called after him, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You can’t just—hey!”

He didn’t stop, didn’t even glance back. The door creaked open as he stepped out.

Outside, Scar leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and a bemused look on his face. He watched as Ekko adjusted the straps of his owl mask, preparing to slide it back into place.

“Something on your mind?” Ekko asked, his tone sharper than intended.

Scar raised an eyebrow, glancing toward the door where you were still yelling.

“Didn’t realize we were starting a dating service for Pilties now.”

Ekko shot him a glare, the owl mask concealing the faint flush creeping up his neck. “What?”

Scar smirked, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

With a sigh, Ekko adjusted the mask, his thoughts lingering on the strange girl tied up in the other room. A rich Piltie liking him? The thought was… well, distracting.

But he pushed it aside. There was work to be done.

“Where’s Vi?” he asked, his voice low.

Scar gestured down the hall. “Waiting.”

Ekko nodded, his mind shifting gears as he prepared for what would undoubtedly be another tense conversation.

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