#HAPPY STARDUST DAY ONCE AGAIN!!!!!!

[meowonaise]

various stardusts (+ one with friends)

[yukkiji]

crayons, and maybe love

haikyuu masterlist. leave a little stardust on my ko-fi

starring. sugawara koshi x fem!reader

genre: fluff, romance, timeskip!sugawara, single mom!reader, found family

wc: 4.4k

author's note: happy birthday suga-chan hehe this fic is just wholesome for me huhu

you were seventeen when the world tilted.

it started with a summer that burned too fast—warm nights, rushed kisses, and whispered promises that sounded like forever. back then, love felt like the only thing you needed. you thought he meant it when he told you that he’d stay. that no matter what, it was you and him.

but forever came undone in the span of a few cruel, cowardly words.

“i’m not ready to be a dad. and besides… what made you sure that’s even my child?”

the silence that followed was sharp. deafening.

you stared at him—at the boy who once held your trembling hands under fireworks, who told you he wanted to build a future with you. the disbelief twisted in your chest, cold and bitter.

something inside you snapped.

you didn’t even hesitate. your fist collided with his jaw before your brain could catch up.

“go to hell,” you spat, breath shaking as tears blurred your vision. “and don’t ever show your face to me again.”

he stumbled back, more stunned than hurt, hand to his cheek. he didn’t fight back. he didn’t apologize. he didn’t chase you as you turned and walked away, clutching your stomach like you could already feel the heartbeat that would change everything.

you were barely out of high school when two pink lines redefined your future. college brochures were pushed aside for prenatal vitamins. your friends drifted away, caught in the whirlwind of entrance exams and campus tours, while you clutched your swelling belly alone in the corner of your childhood bedroom.

your parents tried to be supportive. but they lived provinces away, working long hours in the city. they helped where they could—phone calls, a bit of money sent every other month—but they had their limits. and you understood. you never blamed them.

you just… adjusted.

because you had to.

thankfully, you found a bookstore tucked between a pharmacy and a laundromat, with peeling signage and the smell of dust and old paper. the owner, a sharp-eyed woman in her mid-30s named kana, took one look at your too-young face and trembling hands and said, “you start tomorrow. don’t be late.”

she paid modestly, but she paid on time. and more importantly, she treated you like her own—offering you warm leftovers wrapped in tin foil and advice you didn’t know you needed. she never asked questions you weren’t ready to answer. she saw you.

and sometimes, that was enough.

your daughter came into the world screaming and kicking, a bundle of warmth and need. the hospital was cold and too white, and you were alone—terrified, but too proud to call anyone. you held her to your chest, skin to skin, and she stopped crying. just like that.

you named her something soft. something that sounded like light.

and even on the worst days—when the bottle wouldn’t warm fast enough or her cries clawed at your frayed nerves like tiny, invisible fists—you never regretted her. not once.

she was your beginning.

by the time you turned twenty-two, your little girl was four, and life in your hometown had worn thin. so, with a suitcase in one hand and her tiny fingers in the other, you moved to miyagi.

a fresh start.

no expectations. no whispers. just a small apartment near the train line and a new part-time job that paid just enough.

you enrolled her in a nearby kindergarten—the cheapest one within walking distance. you told yourself not to expect much.

but then you met him.

sugawara kōshi.

the name was neatly printed on the welcome packet, and even though you’d barely registered it in your fog of exhaustion that first morning, your daughter already knew it by heart.

she talked about him on the walk home, a bright babble of “sensei says this” and “sensei gave me a sticker for drawing a fish but i said it was a dinosaur!”

you assumed he was just good with kids. but then you saw him.

the first time you met, the sun was just beginning to dip low in the sky, casting long golden shadows across the playground gravel. you were running a little late—work at the café had gone long, and the buses in miyagi were never quite on time.

you spotted her first. your daughter, sitting cross-legged by the gates, her little pink backpack beside her and her brow furrowed in concentration. and beside her, crouched down on one knee, was a man.

he was carefully tying her shoe—no, not just tying it. he was looping it into a double knot with the kind of patient, practiced focus you hadn’t seen in a long time. the gesture was so small, so gentle, it made you pause mid-step.

“double knot so they won’t trip again,” he said, his voice warm as sunlight filtered through the leaves above. then he looked up.

and smiled.

it was the kind of smile that made your heart stutter, the kind that didn’t ask for anything in return. his hazel eyes were soft, like he saw people in layers and knew how to read between silence. his light grey hair was tousled slightly, probably from the small storm of children he'd wrangled all day. there was a crayon stain on the hem of his shirt. you noticed it because it made him real.

“she’s lovely,” he said, rising to stand as your daughter beamed at you. “you’ve raised her well.”

you opened your mouth to thank him, but the words got stuck behind the sudden lump in your throat. no one said things like that to you. not often, anyway. not in that tone that made it sound like they meant it.

you glanced down at her, at your daughter—chatting happily now, showing off her freshly tied shoe—and then back at him. you nodded.

“thank you,” you said softly.

he offered his hand. “sugawara koushi. i’m one of the assistant teachers here.”

you took it. his hand was warm, steady.

“nice to meet you,” you murmured, giving him your name.

it was such an ordinary moment. but something in it stayed with you long after the gates had closed behind you.

it started slowly after that.

short, polite conversations at pick-up time. a note in her folder letting you know she’d napped longer than usual. a small envelope with extra worksheets because she liked numbers, and he didn’t want her to get bored.

you weren’t sure when it stopped feeling transactional.

maybe it was the afternoon she forgot her water bottle and you came back to find him sharing his own, crouched beside her as she told him—very seriously—that if he gave her chocolate milk, she’d draw him a dinosaur-fish hybrid.

or maybe it was the night he called your phone and said gently, “she has a fever. not too high, but i didn’t want her to be alone. do you want me to walk her to the clinic?”

you took the next train home.

he stayed with her until you arrived. didn't say much. just patted her head and smiled like it was nothing.

you’d never met a man like that before.

you told yourself it was nothing—that these small moments were just what kind people did.

but kindness started to look a lot like familiarity.

it crept into your routines. he started saving her favorite chair at reading time. sent you texts that weren’t just about pick-up changes, but funny things she’d said. one afternoon, you found a paper tucked into her backpack—a drawing of three stick figures holding hands under a lopsided sun. one had your hair. one had hers. the third had a tiny teacher badge.

“she said i had to keep it,” he texted. “she said it’s our ‘practice family.’”

you laughed then. quietly. carefully.

the next time you saw him, you meant to make a joke about it. something light to keep the air clear. but before you could say anything, your daughter beat you to it.

“you should come eat with us,” she said, tugging his hand like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “mama cooks real food. not like lonely food.”

he blinked, startled. “lonely food?”

“yeah,” she said seriously. “the kind you eat when no one’s there to tell you you’re chewing too loud.”

you opened your mouth—probably to apologize or redirect—but he just smiled, slow and a little soft.

“well,” he said, crouching down to her level. “that does sound like a problem.”

then he looked up at you, eyes questioning but open.

“if it’s okay with your mama.”

you hesitated for half a heartbeat.

then: “sure. but only if you bring dessert.”

“deal.”

you don’t remember much about that first dinner—what you wore, what you cooked. only that he helped wash the dishes without asking, and that when he left, the house didn’t feel as quiet as it usually did.

after that night, it became a quiet rhythm.

he didn’t come over often—but when he did, it felt easy. natural. he’d bring small things for her: a little puzzle book, or a new story he thought she’d like. for you, it was more subtle. a pack of your favorite tea. a new sponge for the sink after noticing the old one had frayed. quiet gestures that said i see you.

one evening, after your daughter had fallen asleep mid-cartoon, the two of you sat side by side on the couch, the soft hum of the tv filling the quiet.

“she loves you,” you said softly, eyes still on the screen.

he turned to you, lips lifting in a quiet smile. “she makes it easy.”

then, a pause.

“can i ask you something?” he said gently, not prying—just curious, respectful.

you nodded.

“i’ve never seen her dad around. is… he in the picture?”

you weren’t surprised. it was a fair question. one you’d been asked before—sometimes with pity, sometimes with judgment. but his voice held neither. just a soft openness, like he was giving you space, not taking it.

you leaned back into the couch.

“i was seventeen,” you started. “it was stupid. or maybe just young. he said he loved me. we made plans—messy, impossible ones. then i got pregnant, and he…”

you shrugged, your mouth tightening for a moment.

“he said it wasn’t his. disappeared before i could even process it. i haven’t heard from him since.”

he didn’t speak right away. didn’t rush to fill the silence with platitudes. he just… sat there with you in it.

you continued. “my parents live far. they help when they can, but i couldn’t ask them to uproot their lives. so i moved here. miyagi felt quiet. manageable. safer, somehow.”

you looked down at your hands. “i didn’t really expect anything except to survive.”

he was quiet for a beat longer, then said, almost too softly, “that must’ve been lonely.”

you blinked. not because it hurt—but because he got it.

“yeah,” you said. “yeah, it was.”

then his hand brushed yours on the couch. not on purpose, maybe. but it stayed there. warm. solid.

“i don’t know much about being a parent,” he said, “but i do know she’s lucky. you both are.”

you didn’t say anything right away. but you didn’t pull your hand away either.

and when he left that night, he looked back once before closing the door, as if checking to make sure you were okay.

you were.

maybe more okay than you'd been in a long time.

after that conversation, something shifted—but so gently you almost convinced yourself it hadn’t.

sugawara didn’t start texting more. he didn’t linger longer than necessary. there were no sudden declarations, no confessions under moonlight. just… small things.

like the day he left a cup of miso soup outside your door when your daughter came to school and said you had a cold.

or how he started walking her halfway home when it rained, always managing to have an extra umbrella somehow.

you caught yourself watching him more. the way his eyes softened when your daughter said something ridiculous. how he always crouched to her level to talk, never towering over. how he never interrupted.

one evening, you were folding laundry on the floor while your daughter colored beside you when she blurted out, “sensei says he’d like to see us more outside school.”

your heart stuttered.

you looked over. “he did?”

she nodded, crayon scribbling wildly. “he said he likes movie nights and maybe we can have one. with popcorn. but not if it’s weird.”

you stared at her, blinking.

“did he say it’d be weird?”

she shrugged. “he just said only if mama was okay.”

that night, you stared at your ceiling far too long.

you wanted to believe there was something there—something slow-building and safe, something more than kindness. but your past had taught you what happened when you wanted too much. when you assumed love based on soft gestures and ended up holding only the echo of promises never kept.

still.

still, when he texted a few days later—

would it be okay if i brought over a movie this weekend? thought she might like it.

—you said yes.

not because you were sure.

but because part of you, the one that had been buried under exhaustion and routine and single-mother steel, whispered: maybe.

that saturday, he showed up with a worn dvd case and a bag of caramel popcorn he said was “too sweet, but she might like it.”

your daughter made him sit on the floor with her, wrapped in blankets. you sat on the couch, a safe distance away, pretending to scroll your phone. watching his smile when she laughed. the way he glanced back at you sometimes, like he was checking if you were laughing too.

you caught his eye once. he didn’t look away.

your heart did a strange, hopeful ache.

when the movie ended, your daughter dozed off mid-sentence, head on his arm.

“she trusts you,” you said, softly.

“i trust her too,” he said.

and then, quieter, not looking at you: “and you.”

you didn’t answer.

you didn’t know how.

but when he gently carried your daughter to her bed, tucking her in with the kind of care no one had ever shown you, you followed him back to the doorway and said, just above a whisper:

“stay. just for tea.”

he nodded.

you made tea in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. he sat at the kitchen table, hands folded loosely, eyes roaming the space—not judging, just observing. there were toys in the corner, magnets on the fridge, a drawing of a fish with legs taped to the wall.

“she drew that last week,” you said, placing his cup down. “said it was for you.”

he smiled, fingers grazing the drawing as if it were something precious.

“she said it was a dinosaur-fish hybrid,” you added, trying to keep it light.

“i know,” he murmured, still looking at it. “she told me it breathes fire, but only when someone lies.”

you laughed, soft and surprised.

his eyes flicked back to you. “she’s a good kid.”

“she is.”

you took a sip. the tea was still too hot. you held it anyway.

there was a pause—comfortable, but fragile. like a breath held before a step.

“can i ask you something?” he said.

you nodded.

he kept his eyes on the steam rising from his cup. “why did you flinch when i said i trusted you?”

you felt the air shift. like something quiet had cracked open.

you didn’t mean to answer, but you did. “because i’ve been trusted before. and it always came with conditions.”

he nodded slowly, like he understood something unspoken. “not everyone’s like that.”

“i know,” you said. then added, because you hated the silence that followed, “i’m just not good at recognizing the difference anymore.”

he didn’t push. didn’t prod. just sat with your answer like it was enough.

then, after a moment: “you don’t have to trust me all at once.”

you looked at him, and this time, he was already looking back.

“i’m patient,” he said softly. “and i don’t want anything from you that you’re not ready to give.”

your throat felt tight.

“that’s not fair,” you said, voice thinner than you liked. “you’re too—”

“too what?”

“too gentle.”

his smile curved at the edges. “is that a bad thing?”

“no,” you said. “it’s terrifying.”

something about that made him smile wider—warm, knowing. not smug. just… steady.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he said, finishing his tea. “but you don’t have to say anything now. just—next time, maybe let me bring the popcorn again.”

you nodded, heart thudding. “okay.”

and when he left, quiet and careful not to wake your daughter, you found yourself standing at the door long after it closed—tea cooling in your hands, hope blooming quietly, dangerously, in your chest.

it happened on a tuesday.

rain slicked the sidewalks, and you’d both run from the train station, laughing, soaked halfway through. your umbrella had flipped inside out. her tiny backpack was dripping.

sugawara was already waiting at the door with a towel in one hand and a juice box in the other. like always, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“storm caught you?” he asked, taking her coat and giving her hair a gentle rub with the towel.

“got ambushed,” you said, pushing your wet hair back. “she thinks puddles are a tactical advantage.”

your daughter beamed. “they are! you don’t expect the splash!”

sugawara chuckled. “tactical genius.”

you caught yourself watching him again—how easily he kneeled to unzip her shoes, how his hand steadied her elbow without even thinking.

you looked away.

he stayed for dinner that night. she begged. you didn’t fight it.

later, as you washed the dishes, your daughter sat cross-legged on the couch beside him, chewing on apple slices and explaining her latest drawing—something with wings and too many legs. you couldn’t hear every word, but the sound of her voice—safe, animated, joyful—was enough.

then you heard it.

her tiny voice, very clear:

“you look at mama like that’s how a daddy would look at a mommy.”

your hands stopped moving.

sugawara didn’t answer right away. you could imagine the look on his face—soft, surprised.

“what makes you say that?” he asked, voice careful.

she shrugged, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “i’ve never had one, but… i think that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

the silence in the room wasn’t awkward. it was honest. undeniable.

and then he said, gently, “you’re a smart girl.”

“i know,” she replied, grinning. “you make her smile when she thinks no one’s looking.”

you wiped your hands on the towel and stepped into the doorway, heart in your throat. he looked up at you.

just met your eyes like he’d been waiting for you to really see him. and you did. maybe you always had.

but recognition doesn’t always lead to readiness. not when you’ve built your life like scaffolding—functional, firm, and braced to stand alone. you’d had no choice. life had given you no backup plan. and you’d learned early not to lean too hard on anything you couldn’t hold up yourself.

even someone like him.

even especially someone like him.

so when he showed up at your door that day, grocery bag in hand, you weren’t sure what surprised you more: that your daughter had somehow wrangled your phone while you were passed out, or that he actually came.

you blinked up at him, bundled in your worn-out hoodie and buried under the blankets. your hair was a mess, your cheeks flushed from the fever, and you were sure you looked nothing short of miserable. but sugawara stood in your doorway with a quiet kind of patience, holding a bag of groceries in one hand and a worried furrow on his brow.

"she texted me from your phone," he said as he stepped inside, voice soft. "said you had a fever. that you both stayed home today."

you tried to sit up. "she wasn’t supposed to—"

"i don’t mind," he interrupted gently, setting the bag on your small kitchen counter. "she said you’d tell her not to bother anyone. but she said…" his voice trailed as he knelt beside your couch, eyes scanning your face with a care that made your chest ache. "she said you always handle things alone. that it’s how it’s always been. even when you cried, you smiled in front of her."

you turned your face away, blinking fast. "she talks too much."

"no," he said. "she loves you. and she sees you."

you couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said that.

for a moment, you didn’t say anything. just listened to the quiet hum of your fridge, the occasional rustle as sugawara unpacked medicine and soup. your heart ached—not from the fever, but from the way he moved through your home like he already belonged there, careful not to cross boundaries but close enough to reach if you called.

"why are you really here, kōshi?" you finally whispered, voice hoarse. "you don’t have to—"

"i know i don’t have to," he said, setting the soup down and crouching again beside you, this time closer. "but i wanted to. and not just today."

you turned your head, met his eyes. they were impossibly warm.

"you don’t owe me anything," you whispered, your throat tight. "i’m just—"

"you’re not just anything." his hand found yours, calloused fingers wrapping around your own. "you’re a mother who’s done everything by herself since you were seventeen. you’ve given your daughter everything. and you’re still standing."

you couldn’t hold his gaze.

"and i know," he continued, more quietly, "that maybe it’s hard to believe someone could stay. especially when someone didn’t. but i’m not going anywhere. not unless you ask me to."

your heart stuttered.

he reached up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering just long enough to make you shiver. not from the fever—but from the softness in his touch.

"i want to be with you," he said, voice steady now, "and your little you."

your lips parted, breath caught in your throat. the weight of those words pressed against everything you’d held shut for years. the cracks in your armor. the quiet ache of being the only adult in the room, the only one carrying it all.

“you don’t even know what that means,” you whispered, trying to joke, but your voice trembled too much to sell it.

“i do,” sugawara said, without flinching. “i know it means temper tantrums and sick days and school meetings and nightmares at three in the morning. i know it means getting less of you some days because she needs more. and i still want that. all of it. you. her.”

your hands fisted the blanket in your lap, holding on to something—anything that felt steady. “i’m not easy. i come with… everything.”

sugawara didn’t flinch. he didn’t look away.

“that’s fine with me,” he said, voice low but firm. “i can take care of everything… or at least stand beside you while you do. you don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”

you blinked fast, suddenly too aware of how tired you were—how long you’d been tired. not just today, not just the cold. tired in the bones. in the heart.

“you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“i do.” his gaze was steady. “i’ve seen it—how much she loves you, how much you give. she tells me things, you know. like how you used to rock her in the hallway all night when she had ear infections. how you cried when she lost her first tooth because she looked so grown up. how you laugh even when you’re hurting.”

you looked down, lips parting but no words coming.

“and she told me you’ve been doing it all alone,” he added, more quietly. “i don’t think anyone should have to do that.”

the silence between you stretched, not uncomfortable—just full. full of everything unspoken, everything neither of you had dared to hope for until now.

then his hand reached for yours, warm and steady where yours trembled slightly in your lap. he didn’t squeeze, just held—an invitation, not a demand.

“if you’ll let me,” he said quietly, “i want to be here. for both of you.”

you swallowed, unsure why your eyes suddenly burned. maybe it was the fever. maybe it was something else.

sugawara’s gaze softened as he leaned in slightly, searching your expression. “is it okay… if i kiss you?”

you blinked. “i’m sick.”

he smiles gently, eyes crinkling in that familiar way that always seemed to disarm you.

“i’ve held crying kids with fevers and applesauce in their hair,” he murmured. “a little cold won’t scare me off.”

you hesitated, not because you didn’t want to—god, you did—but because it felt like something sacred was about to shift. you’d spent so long convincing yourself you didn’t need this, that you could do everything alone. that needing someone meant losing something again.

but he waited.

not pressing, just there.

and you nodded.

his lips met yours softly, reverently—like a promise whispered against the mouth. there was no rush, just the quiet affirmation of being chosen, of being wanted. you felt his hand cup the side of your face, thumb brushing lightly along your cheekbone, anchoring you to the moment.

when you parted, you didn’t move away. he didn’t either.

you let yourself lean into him, your forehead resting against his, breaths mingling.

a small rustle at the hallway.

“i knew you liked each other!” your daughter said triumphantly, half-whispering like it would make her sneakiness less obvious.

your eyes widened. sugawara turned to look at her, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “we’ve been caught.”

she padded closer with her bunny in hand, climbing onto the couch like she belonged there—which she did.

“are you gonna be my mama’s boyfriend now?” she asked with the bluntness only a child could manage.

you froze, but sugawara just chuckled, glancing at you for permission. you didn't say anything—not with words. but your hand stayed in his. that was answer enough.

“if she’ll have me,” he said simply.

and your daughter, as if she had any authority at all, nodded solemnly. “good. you look at her like a daddy would.”

the words knocked the breath out of you.

sugawara didn’t flinch.

he reached for your daughter too, pulling her gently into the space between you, and she curled up like she belonged there.

maybe she always had.

maybe you all did.

and for the first time in what felt like years, you didn’t feel like you were holding everything together by yourself.

you weren’t alone.

not anymore.

[nqrancia]

hellooo! i’m currently rewatching stardust crusaders (my comfort part fr) and watching episode 18, the Sun, reminded me of how cute Jotaro is (the scene where he’s laughing? like full on laughing without being nonchalant? ugh, my heart)

so can i pleasee request Jotaro, Johnny and Kakyoin with a reader who likes making them laugh? thank youuu

𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 : jotaro kujo, noriaki kakyoin, johnny joestar

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : how would they act with an s/o that likes to make them laugh

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : some angst in jotaro’s (sorry guys)

𝐚/𝐧 : my first jotaro and johnny requests?? i love johnny so much it’s not even funny anymore :( please enjoy!

𝐉𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎 𝐊.

✦ | Jotaro is the toughest nut to crack when it comes to any situation, it’s rare that you see a panicked or happy look on his face. Receiving a laugh from him is an even greater feat to conquer than defeating DIO, which is a wild statement to make, but true nonetheless. Sometimes, it feels like your efforts to make him crack are fruitless and creates a disheartening feeling in your gut. He sees this, despite you trying to hide it. Though he doesn’t say it often, he finds that your attempts do warm his heart even though he bares no smile on his face.

───

Whilst you, Jotaro, and Polnareff sat waiting for Mr. Joestar’s and Avdol’s arrival; you grew terribly bored. While Luxor was a beautiful place, there wasn’t much time to waste. The deadline to save Mrs. Holy was becoming slimmer and slimmer by the day, and you could tell Jotaro and Mr. Joestar were growing more anxious by the mere thought. Mrs. Holy was a sweet woman, and an even more wonderful mother. It was saddening to know that this was the fate life had bestowed upon her, and you were going to assist your companions as much as you could prevent the worst case scenario. You had to stay optimistic.

You could sense the tension in the air, a majority of it coming from Jotaro. From your spot on the ground, you scooted yourself closer to where he stood leaning against the wall. You then muttered, “I’m so hungry I could eat a Hol Horse.”

A glance was thrown at Jotaro; no reaction.

Jokes. That was what got you by, making others happy by amusing them or making them laugh. Seeing the look of joy on someone’s face from something you said made you the most happy, the most satisfied. It was odd, for someone like Jotaro, a stoic man, to be your boyfriend. You rarely saw him break his hardened expression, but maybe that was what you liked about him. He was a challenge.

But, you couldn’t help but ask, “Do… do any of my jokes make you laugh?”

He didn’t answer.

“Don’t say anything then.” You huffed, crossing your arms.

A few moments of awkward silence passed between you, before Jotaro decided to speak up. “Your jokes are bad, but that doesn’t mean they make me feel that way. I know I’m shit at showing how I feel, but I’m…”

He sighed, “I’m glad that you keep trying, even when it doesn’t elicit the reaction you hope for.”

“Jotaro…”

With newfound confidence, you cheerfully announced, “I‘ll keep trying then. I’ll get you one day, I swear on it!”

Now, that got him to crack a smile, a small one. A step in the right direction.

───

𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐊.

✦ | Kakyoin laughs at your jokes because they are so absurd that he can’t help but laugh at them. They are so simple, yet they manage to somehow make him die from laughing. Your other ways of trying to make him crack a smile also include messing with your other traveling companions, especially Polnareff and Mr. Joestar. A part of him feels bad for laughing at his friend's expense, but it manages to make him chuckle nonetheless.

───

It had been another long day on the journey to Cairo, Egypt. After having been attacked midair, the group decided it was best to attempt to drive again instead. Joseph was once again the driver, Avdol took shotgun, Jotaro sat in the right middle seat, Polnareff taking the left, and you along with Kakyoin in the very back. If it hadn’t been for the knowledge of your end goal for this journey, you would’ve been happy that you got to go on a road trip with your friends. But, every road trip had its moments.

There was only one word to describe your current mood; bored. Hours had passed since you first got on the road, and several more still awaited you. You needed more entertainment than Slug Bug, as fun as the game was. Landing a nice hit on Polnareff was always satisfying, especially when he was being his most annoying. A sigh left you as you gazed out of the window, searching for any interesting scenery. The only image you got was more sand dunes, the same sight you had seen for the past hours. How wonderful.

Luckily, a fly flew by your window soon after. Quickly, you shouted “Slug Bug!”, slamming a fist into Polnareff’s shoulder. He released a pained groan, reaching his hand to rub the freshly hit area. Then, the two of you began playfully bickering, which led to not so playful bickering. Soon, mean phrases and names were being used until you abruptly blurted, “You look easy to draw.”

An offended look became present on Polnareff’s face, scoffing, “I do not!”

You turned to your boyfriend, who sat quietly in the seat next to you reading an adventure novel. He was a pleasant person to have along on this journey, and an even more pleasant person to have on the road. He was observant, helpful, and calm; unlike certain other people. “Hey, Noriaki.”

He looked up from his book to meet your gaze, “Yes, love?”

“Watch this.”

You rummaged through your backpack you brought with you on your journey, then pulled out a small notebook and a black ink pen. It wasn’t much, but it got the job done.

Then, you began to sketch. First you drew the base shapes, then the eyes, then Polnareff’s hair. You were initially light with your pen marks, but they slowly began to show more confidence as you continued to draw as simplistic as possible.

Kakyoin observed as you did so, taking note of the absurdity of the whole situation. Both your’s and Polnareff’s personalities tended to clash more often than not, each time resulting in a ridiculous argument or prank being pulled on the other. It was silly, he had to admit, yet it made him crack a smile all the same.

With a click of your pen, you flipped your notebook to show the car your drawing. “Done.”

The offended look on the Frenchman’s face appeared once again, this time twice as horrified. He began commenting on the fact his hair shape was not “real life accurate” as you were trying not to break down laughing at his misfortune, which Kakyoin could not blame you for. He was trying hard not to as well.

“It appears you were correct,” he chuckled, hiding his grin behind his hand. “Sorry, Polnareff.”

“I’m never sitting with you guys in the back ever again.”

───

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐉.

✦ | He believes that you and Gyro should have your own traveling comedy duo, you two would make a lot of money. Your jokes and bits make the race much less boring and more upbeat to experience, you’ve even made Hot Pants crack a barely noticeable smirk. That was more than most could say. On the other hand, he appreciates that you’re trying to bring more light into his day by trying several ridiculous ways to make him laugh, even if they don’t always land the way you want them to. He smiles just because you’re trying so hard.

───

Long had the day been. Your days of travel across the country should have been uneventful, yet they became more and more so as the race progressed. Everyday, it seemed like someone new was after you and your companions, whether it was in the name of the President or of their own volition. Some were less annoying than others, but that Diego Brando just seemed to rub you the wrong way. That also seemed to be the case for Johnny and Gyro, the latter being the perfect gossip buddy yet your comedic twin?

Johnny had commented many times on how much the two of you would get paid for doing traveling comedy shows, and you weren’t opposed to the idea. Having a fun job after this race with your boyfriend and closest friend sounded perfect, but you know that wouldn’t be able to happen. You knew that, Johnny knew that. In your possession were the body parts of a saint’s corpse, a specimen that could perform miracles beyond your imagination. It could relieve past sins and even allow one to walk again; it made your Johnny find a reason to keep going.

Those dark thoughts liked to lurk in the back of your mind, but they never made you lose your optimism for the future nor the present. Traveling with your two favorite people made the journey less lonely and much more fun to experience, even with the occasional attack for the corpse parts. Nights were filled with laughter, dinners were never eaten alone, and supply runs felt more like games of tag rather than a need.

Tonight was no different. It had been about 10 minutes since the three of you decided it was time to settle down for the night, and finding a decent spot to set up camp was proving to be more difficult than you desired. Your horse's exhaustion was beginning to show as they began to slow their steps more and more, once you settled you were going to make sure they each got a nice treat. Then a glance was thrown at your companions, who seemed just as exhausted and a bit antsy.

In attempts to raise their spirits, you decided to test some new material. It had been something you had been cooking up for a while in secret, even from Gyro.

You brought your horse a touch closer to Slow Dancer, who lagged slightly behind Valkyrie. Then, you leant over a little to catch Johnny’s attention. “Hey, Johnny. What kind of horses come out after dark?”

He rose an eyebrow in confusion, “I don’t know, what?”

“Nightmares!”

Though it could have been the exhaustion getting to him, Johnny let out a breathy chuckle, “That has got to be the stupidest joke I’ve ever heard.”

You pointed to him, smiling gleefully. “But, it got you to at least chuckle! You’re cute when you smile like that.” You giggled, adding a wink on the end just to test him.

The country boy’s cheeks flushed lightly, softly shaking his head. Just as he was trying to refocus on the task at hand, “Wait, wait! I have another, would you like to hear?”

“Sure.”

Your face inched closer to his, “How do you make an Appaloosa?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Ya shake the tree!” Another absolutely abysmal punchline, yet it still made the man laugh.

You triumphantly threw your fists in the air, “Woohoo, another smile from my pretty boy!”

Up ahead, your other companion gagged, “Can you two stop being so romantic, you’re gonna make me throw up from a sugar rush!”

@𝐧𝐪𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐚 ݁₊˚⊹☆ - please do not translate or plagiarize my works.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Somewhere in my brain, in the deepest depths, Astarion is a little touch aversive.

Touch starved? Yes but also touch aversive in due to everything he’s been through.

Touch had become an ugly thing for him and he wasn’t certain he could remember when touch was ever a good thing, when all he could or be forced to remember were the worst kind; The kind that left scars and despite how much he wanted them to leave, to be gone forever just to give him an ounce of sanity, he knew it was a lie and that he’d always be remembered of moments where he would think he was getting better.

Touch had been a thing he craved and hated simultaneously, always side stepping when someone got too close, swiftly removing someone’s hand when it got within a hairs width of his shoulder and how he’d smile stiff and uncomfortable when someone’s hand manages to brush past his own but having to hold his tongue filled with venom.

until you came along and shown him that touch was sacred and kind and innocent when shown by the right person. For you didn’t touch him once and when you did, it was unlike Astarion was expecting as while he did flinch away, he didn’t feel the icy coldness, but instead a steady and comforting warmth from your brief grace. It made him stop in his tracks while you were busy apologising for the touching his shoulder without asking, looking as though on a verge of a panic attack over such a thing.

Yet you were acting like you had stabbed him with how worried you looked. Adorable and easily teased but yet you looked honest in your apology, vowing to never even dare grade him unless it was per his request; and while this would’ve easily appeased him, Astarion couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that he wouldn’t get to experience your touch again. Never to ever again feel the tender and honest fingertips of yours whisper romanticised vows of protection, of warmth, of kindness against his colder ones.

It was in the brief, almost missable shared moment of yours that lead to Astarion to come to terms that if he were to ever loose his sight and have to relay on the touch of another for the rest of his eternal life, or if he were to differentiate the touches; then he would know yours within a heartbeat from their warmth to their caresses that felt akin to stardust kissing his pale complexion while he pretends to rest, withholding his mischievous smile.

Soon enough your touch was all Astarion needed but he knew he couldn’t just demand your touch, it would feel forced and obligated, he wanted it to be as genuine as the day your pinky first grazed his knuckles. He would try to simulate situations where your touch was bound to become a requirement, whether that’s straightening his clothes, standing close enough to you that your shoulders would touch, or even when he has to uphold his persona and kiss the back of your hand.

He wanted it all and more, yet seemingly lacked the words to says so despite his silver tongue, which more or less felt like lead within his mouth whenever you brushed a stray eyelash off of his cheek and smile at him. He hated how easily his train of thought abandons him when you were resting your head on his shoulder out of exhaustion. You managed to leave him speechless but were the only one unable to notice it.

It wasn’t until one day where you had found yourself bound in Astarion’s arms with his face buried into your neck, feeling his breath an almost icy sensation across your skin as goosebumps arrived.

‘I just needed this.’ Was all he says, voice soft and lacking everything Astarion usually possesses.

You rub his back, feeling him precisely slump in your arms, smiling softly. ‘Take all the time you need.’ Was all you said, happy to be a shoulder for someone, especially Astarion.

[unreasonablerobin]

Dreamer

Jason Todd x Reader

Synopsis: Nightmares were absolute hell, especially for Jason. Not with you around though...

W.C: 2.1k

Tags: Fluff ♡, Angst ✮

It had been a long day. A really fucking long day. He trudged up the creaking complex stairs; the elevator was broken (again). Once his tired body made it to the door he sighed in frustration. He didn't know which pocket the keys were in. Cut to 10 minutes later, he's searched through every single one at least twice only to realise it was in the first pocket he checked and they were simply, magically out of reach when he first checked! He grumbled and shoved the key into the lock, violently twisting until the old ass door opened with a horror movie squeak. Jason finally walked through the apartment door just to be met by turned-off lights and the echo of pouring rain outside. No warm food or drink awaited him. No cosy, warmed-up bed. Most importantly, no wife in sight. He quirked his mucky boots off and tossed his jacket onto the rack.

'Something must've happened at the hospital, she's always home by now.' He told himself whilst glancing at the clock on the entryway wall.

He trekked through the empty halls until he reached the bedroom door. It was shut and by some miracle, he hoped you'd be behind it. But of course, you weren't. Sighing again he put away his gear and turned on the shower. You might not be here but if you found out he slept in your shared bed covered in blood, dirt, rain and ash you'd have his head. And he knew that. The water ran hot and the sound blended in with the storm outside. He stripped himself of his clothes, chucking them into the hamper and hopping in. After being stuck out in that weather and getting bruised up from an explosion that he barely got out of, anything warm was welcomed. Didn't compare to you. Your routine of welcoming him with a kiss, sending him off to shower (patching him up if necessary), preparing a hot meal and lastly the best part; cuddling up in bed. He turned off the shower and dried himself off.

Now dressed in joggers and an old t-shirt he tossed himself into bed. Jason barely managed to pull the duvet over him before his eyes fell shut and his body limp, overcome with sleep

Your body fell back against the apartment door. You'd finally been able to clock out and head home. You loved your job, you really did. Working at a supernatural hospital, off the grid from the government, getting to help all kinds of people, especially kids, it made you smile. Giving these people a sense of peace and community made you feel like you weren't the monster people used to call you.

You have these powers. You're not sure if they have a name, but as you've come to know over the years, they're beautiful. Gold decorates your skin when they activated. You'll never forget the day a group of kids in the hospital said you resembled a goddess. One pitched up and said the magic that floated in your hand looked like stardust. You can make things, beautiful, magical things. Like dreams. That's what you use it for. To take away the nightmares that haunt the hospital walls and sometimes the walls of your own home.

As a kid you would slip into daydreaming classmates' minds, leading to arguments and teasing. After a particularly bad altercation; expulsion. It was that day you decided you could never be fully accepted by society, yet here you were. Working full time with your powers and in a happy, honest marriage.

One of your patients, Lily, had started accidentally using her powers in her sleep. You were on your way home, the apartment complex was in sight when you got a call demanding you return. Gold still laced your skin as you removed your boots and jacket. The sight of dirty boots and a roughed-up jacket brought relief. Jason was home, thankfully. Sore feet dragged your equally exhausted body through the apartment halls and closer to heaven. Aka your bed. The sound of sheets rustling halted you in your tracks. Muffled thunder and rain filled the silence that your lack of footsteps caused. You hyperfocus on the sounds coming from your bedroom. Sheets and quiet cries. A lump formed in your throat at the pained sounds you knew were coming from Jason.

As quietly as possible, you opened the door and tiptoed into the room. You hastily changed into your pyjamas whilst also trying not to wake him. Jason had a tendency to freak out when woken up mid-nightmare, so it was best to try to soothe him into a dream rather than wake him. The sound of your body sliding under the covers was too loud for your liking. You watched Jason stir through squinted eyes. Carefully laying yourself down beside him and waiting a moment to see if he would wake up. Thankfully he didn't. Cautiously your hands found themselves resting on his fair skin. Gold details formed on your skin, glowing and sparkling in the moonlit bedroom. A few soothing strokes of your thumbs made him unconsciously let his guard down, allowing you to merge into his mind.

Inside Jason's mind was dark. It was dark, cold and suffocating. Eerily quiet too. Overall deeply unsettling. The only light came from the golden glow of your body. You took a cautious step as you were still dressed in your pyjamas and didn't want to step on something harmful. Or even trigger something. The only sounds were your breathing and that god awful static that produces itself when all is silent. It hummed in the back of your mind like a broken record on replay. Until the clang of metal against the concrete floor shut it up. Your head whipped to the side as if you could see anything. However, faint whispers and whimpers caught your attention. You slowly made your way towards the cries that were soon overcome by a burst of maniacal laughter.

'Oh no... not again.' You sorrowfully thought. Jason conjured up many bad dreams. Often times they were formed on an overthinking foundation. Worries that got bottled up for too long; like if you would still love him after finding out about all of him. It's how you both came clean with eachother actually. The worst ones would always be the ruminating ones. When his mind would make him relive the worst moments of his life. It clicked, the horrified sobbing, the disgusting, boisterous laughing that constantly echoes throughout his mind; this was Jason Todd's death.

There he was, your beloved husband, young, bloodied and bruised, tied to a rusty chair. He was almost unrecognisable. The Robin costume he adorned was the only thing telling you that was him. Crimson blood dripped from his forehead over the dry blood streaks. His domino mask was burnt and torn, the uncovered eye was blooming a purple bruise. You stood frozen as tears accumulated in his eyes and his busted lips quivered. The Joker took a step foward and Jason's body jerked away. His chest began to heave as the Joker mockingly swung the bloody crowbar. A cackle left the clown's bold red lips at the sight. You shut your eyes and swallowed the lump in your throat. It never got easier seeing Jason go through such a traumatising situation. Just as you went to take a step foward a sickening crack echoed through the air, followed by an agonising scream. He laughed and hollered as if breaking a boy's bones was the funniest joke to ever be told.

"Where's the big man boy wonder?" The Joker teased, snarling his teeth down at the second Robin. Jason huffed, blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth as he tried to steady his breathing. The Joker stopped to the side and began to circle him. A large figure became noticeable as the Joker stepped aside. It was Jason; your Jason. He was dressed in his pajamas, damp hair, his face was red and puffy. His blunt nails dug into his palms. His broad shoulders were tense and hunched inwards. His breathing was as abnormal as the past him. You watched as he solemnly stared at his past self, helplessly watching a young unfortunate boy be put through the worst of the worst, knowing that no matter how much he pleaded or prayed, no one was going to be there for him. Atleast back then. In the present, you were there and you will always be there for him.

"Jason..." You called out quietly. His head lifted to look at you, but his eyes were averted, continously watching his past unfold. You called out again and began to make your way towards him. Passing his young, broken self and the monster that destroyed him. You stood still before him for a moment before reaching up and cupping his face in your hands. He grimaced at the sight of the Joker grabbing his face, leading down and laughing so hard spit sprayed onto his bruised skin. You tugged on Jason, pulling his gaze away and onto you.

"Jason, you're okay." You whispered reassuringly. Your lips were inches away, the slight brush of your lips against his grounded him. The warmth of your powers brought a sense of necessary comfort. He leaned into your embrace. He jumped back when a ticking sound appeared.

"Jason."

The ticking got louder and quicker. Everything went dark, the only light being the glow of your powers. The damn laughter followed soon, echoing from every direction if the black abyss you were trapped in.

"Jason!" You began to run in the endless void, searching for your husband.

"Jason you're okay!"

The sound of bare footsteps to your left (you think?) caught you're attention. Although you couldn't see a thing you ran. You ran until you bumped into a large figure. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around the figure.

"Jason calm down, it's okay, you're okay!" His figure heaved shallow breaths.

"This isn't real, it's not happening." Jason gripped your arms.

"You're not there, you're at home, safe with me." His body relaxed ever so slightly. His body still shook and his eyes scanned the dark with paranoia.

"I need you to calm down so I can take you back." You held him close and began to take deep breaths. After a moment, Jason followed your actions. Taking deep breaths until they aligned with yours. You held each other close, breathing in sync. A warmth filled your body and soon the air. A golden glow bloomed between your bodies and grew until it took over the dark, overtaking the darkness.

Jason and you both jolted awake. The bed creaked from the flinches. Neither of you sat up, simply pulled each other closer. A close as possible. Jason's arms wrapped around your waist. His hands gripped your shirt like his life depended on it. And for him, maybe it did. His face pressed into your chest. Your arms wrapped around his neck, one hand calmly raking through his messy hair. The rain and thunder had mostly stopped, and the outside world had become as silent as his mind. Light rain drizzled from the grey sky, much like how a few tears dripped from Jason's aqua eyes. The roars had attenuated into mild rumbles, similar to how Jason's sobs had subsided into shaky, but strong, inhales and exhales.

"You're okay." You affirmed Jason in a hushed tone. Jason peered up, the illuminating gold on your skin highlighted his tear-stained face and misty eyes. Your hand moved from his hair to cup his cheek. Your thumb gently wiped away the tears and caressed his harrowing scar.

"You're okay." You repeated. Jason managed to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Thank you." He croaked. His voice was hoarse from crying. Although the screaming wasn't real, it was all in his mind, his body certainly felt like it was. The way he huddled into himself showed he was feeling some sort of phantom pain. It was like when you'd watch a horror movie or hear a violent story, once you see the injuries or hear their descriptions you can't help but almost feel it in your own body. He pressed his face into your hand trying to cover or rub away the feeling of the 'J' being etched into his face.

"How do you always know everything's going to be okay?"

"After darkness comes the light, always" Jason let out a huff of laughter.

You held him close and kissed his forehead.

"Thank you, for everything."

"I'll always be here for you, don't forget that."

Jason closed his eyes. Paranoia drifting away and being replaced by exhaustion. It didn't take long for him to doze off. Hopefully into a dream.

Jason had accepted long ago that his past would forever haunt him. What he wasn't aware of at the time was that he wouldn't be haunted alone. He'd always have you, as there is always light at the end of the tunnel.

A/N: Never written angst before, lowkey think this is shit but whatever. I have no idea how to reassure people I swear I tried my best but I kinda gave up and just decided I needed to post something.

Jason Todd is too complex of a character for me to handle I'm afraid.😔

[honeyhotteoks]

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

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you’ve never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he’s so much more than a crush, he’s your soulmate. five | six (section 1); (section 2) | series masterlist 🔗read on ao3✨across stardust pinterest board

note: the end. thank you all so much for loving this story and being so kind and supportive. this fic has meant the world to me, and i hope you all are happy with the ending. there will be a short epilogue posted soon, but for now our story comes to a close.

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, anxiety/nerves, some general angst and upset emotions, allusions to a bad household growing up and cptsd, very frank coversations about idol life, pr, etc. saesangs and saesang invasions of privacy, discussions about delulu both fun and not okay delusion, but then also smut! including.... oral m!receiving, throat fucking, messy oral, cockwarming, dom!yunho, sub!reader, actual d/s dynamics even if it's kinda not defined, subspace but reader doesn't know that's what it is, fingering, dirty talk, fingers in mouth, light degredation, mostly praise, heavy on the good girls / pretty girls, cowgirl, absolutely intense multiple orgasms, creampie, dw they don't need to wrap it up they're married and in love

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 21.9k **note, this part was too long again for tumblr! please make sure you continue on to part six section 2, linked here!

The ring feels heavy on your finger when you wake up on Sunday morning to an empty bed, but you’re grateful for the weight of it. Without its presence you’d have nothing tangible telling you that the wedding happened at all, that you and Yunho were all of a sudden husband and wife. As the days of the week drag on, the ring becomes your tether. Every time you feel his spikes of anxiety, disappointment, or discomfort, you find yourself fiddling with the ring, your only true way of communicating with him while this is all happening around you, to you.  

By Tuesday you think you’ve memorized every divot and scratch on the band, and by the evening on Wednesday you’ve taken to spinning it in twisted little circles on your finger, so many times you probably have an indent already. 

On Thursday, you wake up once again to his side of the bed empty. You were up late the night before, a deep pit in your stomach, but once you fell asleep you really, truly slept. With Yunho gone, it’s hard to get rest like this, but somewhere in the back of your mind you know your body is trying to carry you both through the stress. 

When your eyes open it’s to a room bathed in full sun. For a second you feel relaxed, at ease, but the quiet of your apartment and the silence around you jolts you properly awake and you twist in the sheets to find your phone. 

Each morning, Yunho had been updating you on the negotiations. 

The meetings had gotten off to a rocky start to say the least, with their CEO truly blindsided by the sudden negotiations. Yunho hadn’t revealed too much about his reaction to the marriage, but you can put two and two together. 

Your eyes flick up to the clock on your nightstand and with the sharp sink of a stone in your stomach you realize it’s already ten. 

Scrambling in the sheets you search for your phone and hastily take off the Do Not Disturb. 

You have a missed call from an unknown number from eight thirty this morning, but then one simple text from Yunho sent only fifteen minutes ago. 

I know I said you wouldn’t need to speak with anyone, but our CEO would like to meet you.  

You sit down immediately, tapping back a fast reply - Meet me? 

He must be keeping a close eye on his phone, because his reply flicks back in record time - He wants to discuss your job directly, and it should be your choice how things are handled, not mine.

Your stomach flips, but he’s right - What time? 

Can you be here by eleven? 

You check the clock again - Yes. 

It takes a moment for him to respond this time, and you wonder if he’s in a meeting now and organizing things. If he’s speaking to the CEO directly, if their attorney is at his side. 

Your phone buzzes with his reply and you breathe out a sigh of relief - This feels like the last step, and I’ll be next to you the whole time. I love you. 

You text him that you love him too, and with a mix of tumbling excitement and panic in your belly, you get ready and start the all too familiar walk to the KQ offices. When you get there, you’re early and a new face from the security desk gives you a visitor’s pass and walks you towards the elevators. 

You haven’t seen Yunho in person since he kissed you on Saturday night and tucked you back into bed, but when the elevator doors open and you’re greeted with his face, everything melts away. 

“Hey,” He smiles, “I thought that was you,” 

“Hi,” You smile back, probably giving too much familiarity away for being in a shared hallway, but with him looking at you like that, you couldn’t care less anymore. 

“Are you ready?” He asks. 

“As I can be,” You nod, “is he upset?” 

Yunho shakes his head, “No, but I don’t know, this whole negotiation process has been strange,” 

You take in a deep breath and nod, “Let’s get this over with then.” 

Without hesitation, Yunho takes your hand in his, “Let me walk you back,” 

Your heart stutters, your hand solidly in his within full view of anyone, but he doesn’t pull away or apologize like the touch was an accident, he meant to take your hand and he meant for people to see. 

His thumb smooths over your knuckles. 

“You’ll be in the meeting?” You double check as you start to follow him up the hall. 

“All of us will,” He assures you, “don’t worry.” 

You give his hand a squeeze and steady your racing heart. 

The CEO’s corner office is nice, but somehow still modest. That’s the first thought that strikes you as Yunho knocks lightly and opens the door, nothing like the last corner office you were dressed down in, flashy in ways that made you want to roll your eyes. 

You’ve met Kim Gyu-uk before, but it was brief and years ago when the teams were much smaller. He’s around sometimes on tour or gives rousing speeches at larger company parties, but otherwise the KQ CEO was largely out of your orbit, your jobs so vastly separate you rarely cross paths even in the halls of the same building. 

Despite that, he greets you with a smile like he’s been friends with you for years, standing the moment the door opens and crossing to the front of his desk to outstretch his hand to you. 

Your hand slips out of Yunho’s and you meet the handshake. 

“Miss y/n,” He shakes your head, “it’s very good to see you again.” 

“Oh,” You bow your head, “thank you,” 

“Perhaps I should say Mrs. Jeong,” He grins, eyes flicking between you and Yunho, “Yunho, now that your lovely wife is here I can offer proper congratulations.” 

Yunho wraps an arm around your shoulders, thanking him, but you have the strangest sensation that this can’t be real. He’s too kind, too pleased about the marriage, too congratulatory, and it makes your stomach clench with unease. 

“Alright,” He says after a moment, returning to his commanding side of the desk, “let’s chat,” 

Yunho guides you forwards to an empty chair, and you sink down into it, nodding to the rest of the men in the room, Attorney Choi at your right, Yunho at your left, and the rest of the members perched around the room in various spots. 

While there’s a subtle air of tension in the room, no one looks upset or outwardly stressed, and all you feel from Yunho’s side of the bond is anticipation. 

“So,” Kim Gyu-uk begins, “I trust that Yunho has been keeping you up to speed on our meetings this week?” 

He hasn’t, not nearly enough for you to feel confident in this meeting, but you nod anyways, “Yes, I think I’m clear on things,” 

He leans back in his chair, “Then you already know my position on your termination. While you two technically broke contracts and the company was within the right to fire you, I was not properly informed of the situation and of the true nature of your relationship. Mr. Minchul took it upon himself to handle it in the way that he did, and though I disagree with his actions, this is my company and my responsibility.” 

Yunho takes your hand back in his. 

“I apologize,” Gyu-uk says, “on behalf of the company and personally, you were treated without respect or consideration. I can assure you it won’t happen again,” 

“Oh,” You manage, “I… thank you, of course, thank you,” 

“Mr. Michul was let go this morning,” He adds. 

Your eyes widen, but Yunho leans forward, “What?” 

“Clearly we need a bit of housecleaning,” Gyu-uk offers, “you know we’ve never operated that way, and I don’t intend to start now.” 

Hongjoong smiles in your peripheral vision and nods, pleased. 

There’s a collective sense of relief, and your tense fingers start to relax. 

“Now,” Gyu-uk rests his elbows on the desk, leaning forward to address you, “as for your position here. I cannot offer you the same job,” 

Your heart sinks. 

“With your relationship,” He nods towards you both, “it wouldn’t be professional to have you work in such close proximity. I would say the same to any couple in this building,” 

You nod, “I can understand that,” 

“That being said,” He smiles, “I hope that you will accept a position working with the Xikers team,” 

Yunho smiles next to you, watching your face carefully. 

Gyu-uk continues, “You’d be in a slightly more senior role with that team of artists, but you’ve done great work for years with us, and until this I’ve never heard anything but positive feedback about you and your performance.” 

You’re stunned silent. 

Their CEO smiles and nods, “And of course,” he says, “Ateez may need an extra pair of hands on tour from time to time, if you’re comfortable with a certain amount of additional responsibilities and overtime,” 

Your eyes prick with tears, “Of course,” you interject, but then catch yourself, dipping your head and getting your emotions under control. 

Yunho rubs the back of your hand again. 

“Good,” He nods, “then Monday, can I expect to see you back at work?”

You swallow back the knot in your throat, “Yes, sir,” 

He nods, pleased. 

Attorney Choi clears his throat next to you, “I’d like to see her employment contract,” 

“I assumed so,” 

“We want explicit statements excluding their relationship from any of the standard language,” He continues, “and we expect an increase for a more senior position, even if Xikers is a junior group.” 

“Oh, I,” The words slip out, a slight shake to your head, you can’t lose this job when it’s been such a fight to get it back. 

Attorney Choi holds up a hand towards you, rendering you silent, but his eyes stay on their CEO. 

“I anticipated that already,” Gyu-uk laughs, a huff of air through his nose, “I’ll have the contract forwarded over for your review today. Satisfied?” 

“For now,” Attorney Choi nods, “where do we stand on our redlines?” 

It’s clear the conversation has shifted back to their employment contracts, and you make brief eye contact with Yunho and then Gyu-uk, “I’m sorry,” you interrupt, “should I step out?” 

He shakes his head, “Stay, we have a few more things to discuss.” 

Yunho separates your hands, shifting in his chair, and his hand finds a new home on your mid back. 

Their CEO looks to Attorney Choi and nods, “I am comfortable saying we have reached an agreement,”

You can practically feel the energy coming off the members at that sentence, and you glance to the side to see their faces. Hongjoong looks pleased and deeply relieved, and San and Seonghwa are grinning from their position at the far wall. 

Relief courses through you from Yunho. 

On his side you catch Mingi’s eyes, calm and betraying nothing, but you can see that he’s pleased and relieved too. Your eyes meet for the barest second, and in it he gives you a small, private smile. You can’t see the other members' expressions without twisting in your chair, but you imagine they’re feeling the same collective relief. 

“Can we agree on a five year term?” Gyu-uk continues, and you look back up. 

“Five years, with a salary review at three,” Attorney Choi says, completely calm and cool. 

There’s a pause. For a moment you wonder if this will push them back from the agreement and back into negotiations, but blissfully Kim Gyu-uk smiles. 

“You drive a hard bargain,” He says, reaching his hand across the table, “but I think we can agree to that.” 

Attorney Choi shakes his hand firmly. 

“Contracts will be ready for review by this afternoon,” Gyu-uk confirms, “if everything looks good, we can execute tomorrow and put this all behind us.”

Yunho lets out a heavy sigh of relief. 

“Dinner,” Gyu-uk says, “tomorrow after your recordings, my treat. We have much to celebrate.” 

In a snap the tension of the week is gone, and there’s a sudden rush of handshakes, hugs, the members erupting in a flurry of excitement all around you. You know from conversations with Yunho that they didn’t get everything they wanted in the renegotiation process, you know that’s how contracts work, but they got the important things. And you and Yunho got each other.

In the celebratory fray, Gyu-uk steps close to Yunho and claps him on the shoulder, “Now that that’s settled,” he says, “let’s have that talk,” 

Attorney Choi smoothly slides into the conversation, “Yes, let’s.” 

You glance between them. 

Gyu-uk nods and steps back, “Alright, everyone, I have some additional things to discuss with the happy couple,” 

Yunho leans in, “It’s okay, don’t worry.” 

You nod, but his words do nothing to soothe the strange sensation in your gut. 

“I’ll see everyone else for dinner tomorrow night,” He nods, “I’m glad we could reach an agreement, and I appreciate everyone’s additional time over the past week while we worked this through.” 

It’s the most professional and polite dismissal you’ve ever seen, but the meaning is clear. Gyu-uk wants the room cleared out, and he’s not waiting around for it to happen naturally. 

Hongjoong exchanges a quick word with Yunho as he steps out, “You good?” 

“Good,” He nods, “we’re fine,” 

Hongjoong nods, and then meets your eyes, “Glad to have you back, y/n,” 

“Me too,” You smile, “thank you, for everything, seriously,” 

He nods, shrugging a bit, “It’s nothing.” 

It wasn’t nothing, not at all. You know how many sleepless nights the members spent preparing for this moment, how many difficult conversations they had to get through. And while not every part of it was for you and Yunho, they put themselves on the line right alongside you both and you feel like you’ll never be able to thank them enough for that. 

After a moment, the room clears out, leaving you and your husband and your attorney, and a sea of empty chairs. 

Gyu-uk looks a little more serious this time, and he sighs as he takes a seat behind his desk. 

Nervous bubbles pop in your stomach. 

“I won’t lie to you,” He says, looking at Yunho, “you’ve put me in a hell of a position here, kid,” 

Yunho nods, “I know.” 

Gyu-uk waves you all down to a seat again and rubs his eyes, he’s tired too, you realize, “I want you to know, I would have agreed to dropping the clauses and having her back without the marriage. If you say you’re bonded, I personally believe that, and I can see it, it’s plain as day looking at the two of you.” 

Your heart thumps quickly in your chest. 

“In another life you would have made a good business man,” Gyu-uk laughs, “because this was one serious fucking ace of a negotiation tactic,”

He glances at you when he curses, “Excuse my language,” he says, but you shake your head to tell him it’s fine. 

“Sir,” Yunho takes your hand again, “I love my job, but you and your wife are soulmates, aren’t you?” 

Gyu-uk’s eyes flick up and he nods. 

That’s new information to you, and your breath seems to stay trapped in your chest anticipating Yunho’s next words. 

“Tell me,” Yunho says calmly, “what kind of a man would I be if I left this up to chance?” 

Emotion bubbles in your chest and you blink back another tug of tears. 

Gyu-uk sighs and leans back in his chair, “Point taken,” he says. 

“I stand by my choices,” Yunho adds, his thumb passing over the band of your wedding ring. 

“I know,” Gyu-uk nods, “and you better keep that mentality, because I don’t know if you both have thought this through, but what happens from here is going to be ugly.” 

You grip Yunho’s hand a little tighter. 

“We know,” Yunho says. 

“No,” Gyu-uk shakes his head, “you don’t know.” 

Yunho takes a breath, but Gyu-uk continues smoothly. 

“We’re going to take a serious hit from this,” He explains, “we’ll lose appearances, venues, brand deals. Fans are going to boycott, they’re going to say cruel things, girls are going to burn your photocards and say you betrayed them. Our revenue will take a dip, potentially a significant one, and that has ramifications of its own.” 

Yunho swallows tightly. 

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment at the honest scrutiny of his words. 

“What’s more than that,” Gyu-uk continues, “is what will happen to her.” 

Yunho’s posture broadens, defensive, his spine straighter as he takes in a breath to push back. 

“Her name, her family's names, where she lives, everything you’ve ever posted online will be scrutinized and picked through. That’s to say nothing of the fans that will cross the line offline; stalking, harassment, death threats,” 

Your breath feels thready, panicked. 

“Did you want this meeting just to scold them? Get to the point,” Attorney Choi interrupts, “They know the risks.” 

“Do you want that for her?” Gyu-uk continues. 

“Of course not,” Yunho’s jaw is set tightly. 

“You should have come to me first,” Gyu-uk says firmly, “I’ve known you since you were a boy, Yunho. I would have listened to you, and we could have made a plan for the two of you together,” 

Yunho shakes his head, “Sir, with all due respect I don’t know if I believe that. No matter how long we’ve known each other, I’m an idol on a rookie contract, and you’re still my CEO.” 

Gyu-uk regards him, his posture tight, and then he nods, “Maybe,” 

“‘Maybe’ wasn’t good enough for me,” Yunho says plainly, “and I may have let the company lead for me in the past, but this is about more than me now.” 

“I can understand that,” Gyu-uk concedes. 

Both of you wait for him to say more. 

“My point is,” Gyu-uk finally says, “you’ve put me on the back foot, and that’s not somewhere I enjoy being.” 

Yunho stays silent, unapologetic, but nods. 

“What I’m asking you now,” Gyu-uk says clearly, “after we’ve made our deals internally, is to buckle up for what we’re going to have to do.” 

The men on either side of you don’t say a word, and you glance between them before you finally speak up yourself, “Which would be?” 

Gyu-uk’s eyes click to yours, assessing, “We need to be on the right side of this story. You’ve worked with idols for years, are you clear on what that means?” 

“You want to announce it?” Your eyes widen a little. 

You were ready for the story to break at some point, and you and Yunho had agreed that being together was worth the risk of that, but going public this quickly still strikes you in the chest. 

“Immediately,” Gyu-uk nods. 

Yunho shakes his head, “Absolutely not,” he leans forwards, “we have time to figure things out,” 

“Yunho,” Gyu-uk stares at him with a withering look, almost fatherly in amusement at Yunho’s naivete, “you can’t make a move this strong and then concede before the check mate.”

Yunho’s jaw tightens. 

“Catch me up here,” You rest a hand on Yunho’s leg and lean forwards to keep Gyu-uk focused on you. 

“This past week,” He explains, “we had discussed a strategy for how to handle the story of your relationship breaking. Standardly, the company line for dating scandals that don’t produce definitive proof is silence. When caught in something more serious or undeniable, there’s usually a lot of apologies from the idol, groveling, and again, silence from the company. In both of those scenarios there is no real room for the couple to be together.” 

“Okay,” You nod, hand sliding to find Yunho’s. 

“Marriage is different,” He continues, “it has a different public perception, so do soulmate bonds. Marriage is also legally binding, which I know both of you are very clearly aware of,” 

Yunho bristles a little, but Gyu-uk isn’t wrong, it’s exactly why you did it now. 

“There are three options as I see it,” He holds your gaze, and something tells me that these three things were made very clear to Yunho this week even if you’re still in the dark. 

“Option one,” Gyu-uk says, “we renegotiate and Yunho leaves the company on positive terms, leaving you both free to pursue whatever lives you want together.” 

Your breath quickens. 

“It’s clear from this week that option is not viable, but it is the path that would afford you both the most privacy.” 

“What’s option two?” You prompt him. 

There’s a strange flicker of appreciation in his face for your directness and he continues, “Option two is that we wait for you both to be caught and then run the company playbook. It’s not a matter of if that will happen but when given marriage licenses are public record and people outside of this room are aware of your relationship.” 

You nod. 

“Option three is to go public now,” 

“We don’t have to announce it right away,” Yunho presses, “we can wait a little while, figure out the best way, this isn’t,” 

“Yunho,” Gyu-uk interrupts softly, “we do, and you know that.” 

“What do you suggest?” Your thumb strokes over the back of Yunho’s hand, but you keep your focus on the conversation. 

“I have a larger plan put together with the PR team,” He explains, and then looks to Yunho, “but we are willing to take this risk with you for the good of the group. We have worked together since you were trainees, and I hope you understand that the reason we are even having this conversation is because I genuinely, genuinely believe this group is stronger with you in it.” 

Yunho nods, his eyes flicking down. 

“The company will announce it,” Gyu-uk says smoothly, “very clearly and in no uncertain terms you will have our support in that announcement. You will need to address your fans in a variety of posts, but the PR team thinks starting off with something personal on your Instagram is the right path.” 

“From there?” Your husband asks. 

“We remain positive and we handle the questions as they come,” Gyu-uk offers, “we’re wading into unprecedented territory here, but we will handle it all head on.” 

Yunho nods and then looks up sharply, “Does her name need to be in the announcement?” 

“Yunho,” You murmur softly. 

No matter how ready you both were for the oncoming storm the day of your wedding, it’s clear that here and now all he can think about is the risks, the worst case scenarios. 

“No,” Gyu-uk says, “and we’d like to keep your relationship as private as possible, not just for you, we really do not want to stoke things further and invite more inquiry. Y/n, your name will be public one way or another, but it won’t come from our announcement. You should prepare yourself for when it happens, but we’ll provide you with as much time as we can.” 

“Thank you,” You murmur. 

“She’ll need security,” Attorney Choi speaks up. 

Yunho nods, his hand tightening on yours. 

“That’s a given,” Gyu-uk says, “if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.” 

Relief bleeds through your chest. 

“That being said,” He continues, “there is a chance this story is uncontrollable, that this industry is not ready for the change you want them to be ready for.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest. 

“We can only do so much,”

Yunho nods and looks from you to his CEO, “If that happens, I already told you, I will resign and I’ll make sure the members know it’s my choice. They won’t follow me,” 

Your eyes widen, your hand tight on his. 

“Yunho,” His attorney warns. 

“We will do everything we can to prevent that and avoid that,” Gyu-uk says earnestly, “that is not a path any of us want to walk. I give you my word on that,”

“This needs to be in writing,” Attorney Choi says, “if you want a stipulation for their relationship have an attorney draft-,” 

“No,” Yunho shakes his head, “no more contracts. I’m trusting you on this, and I give you my word too,” 

The assess each other quietly for a moment, and then Gyu-uk nods, “Alright,” 

Yunho’s hand rests on your back, “When do you intend to announce, then?” 

“We’re on a bit of a time clock with the next comeback,” Gyu-uk says, “but we’ll go to print on Thursday of next week. We’ll work through the language this week, and then Wednesday night you both will leave Seoul for a few days until the brunt of it blows over.” 

“Leave Seoul?” You ask.

”My brother has a house in Jeju. It’s private, rarely used, and far, far away from any newspapers or fans who would want to show up and harass you,” He explains, “consider it a wedding present,” 

You blink.

He sighs and then leans forwards, “Think of it as a way to get out of town and stay offline for a few days,” he says, “whatever the response is, it won’t be easy. Take a few days to yourselves and get your heads on straight, this is going to be a long process with a lot of publicity to manage. Let us handle it and get a few days alone,” 

You nod, and Yunho says, “What else?” 

“Nothing else,” Gyu-uk assures, “you both need to meet with Harin, and then you both need to lay low and let this play out.” 

Harin, the head of their PR team, was always available to nip and tuck a story into just the right language to sway public perception, and you’re not surprised in the least that this is where you’d be heading next. 

“If we’re doing it that soon,” Yunho says, “we need to discuss the apartments.” 

“What?” You turn your head, studying Yunho’s profile. 

“I was going to say the same thing,” Attorney Choi adds, “it would certainly make security easier.” 

Gyu-uk only looks at him.

“What apartment?” You ask again. 

Yunho turns his head to you, “We’re able to get our own apartments now,” he explains, “without managers living in unit as long as the building has approved security protocols and is within a reasonable distance to management and the offices,” 

You remember that clause in the paperwork you read, “Right,” 

He smiles, “I’m also contractually able to have a roommate,” 

You’re sure the surprise is all over your face. 

“So,” He turns back to Gyu-uk, “if we’re concerned about people stalking her or harassing her, I think she’s a lot safer living with me in a building that has security,” 

Gyu-uk sighs. 

“And I think you know better than anyone,” Yunho adds, “how much better I will be at my job if I’m not unnecessarily separated from my bonded soulmate,” 

For a moment, Gyu-uk shows nothing on his face but calm calculation, and then he nods, a small smile pulling at the edge of his lip, “I agree.” 

Yunho’s hand closes on yours, “Good,” 

Gyu-uk rubs his tired eyes again and then nods, “Let me speak with security, there’s not much time for us to get an apartment sorted before the announcement, but until we can, you’re of course free to stay with y/n at her apartment or at your dorm. But communicate clearly with management, no driving yourself or public transportation,” 

“y/n walks to work,” Yunho adds. 

“Not anymore,” Gyu-uk shakes his head, “not until we know what this is going to be like, is that fair?” 

“Absolutely,” Yunho agrees, “whatever we need to do.” 

All you can do is nod, once again your head spinning at the amount of information you’re being dropped into. 

“Alright,” He leans towards the telecom on his desk and presses a button, calling out to reception. You listen as he sets up a call with the head of the security team and as he directs Harin and the PR team to set up in the small conference room down the hall. 

“Last thing,” Gyu-uk says as he stands, clearly signaling the end of this conversation, “rings off, until the story breaks.” 

Yunho nods, “Fair enough.” 

“Stay discreet for a few more days,” He advises, “and then after that, well, we’ll take it as it comes.”

The meeting ends with more handshakes, with both of you being ushered into a conference room with the PR team who are more than prepared to discuss strategy at length. You don’t have a moment to debrief with Yunho, to drop your smile and take a breath and ask him how you got here to this result all of a sudden on a Thursday. Instead, you’re at another conference room table with a team of people who seem to know more about social media than you could have ever fathomed. 

Harin is a small woman, but within two minutes you can tell she’s a fearsome adversary when it comes to arguing and spinning a story. You’ve never been the subject of her inquiries before, but all of a sudden you’re center stage. 

For hours you pour over details in ways you couldn’t even imagine. Yunho seems unphased by the directness and the detail in their questions, but they peel apart every facet of your life and your connections until there’s no stone unturned, no surprise story about your life that could break without them knowing and having a pre-planned response. 

You don’t have any school drama, no history of bullying or bad behavior. Your relationship history isn’t all that scandalous, only one bad breakup, but it was him who cheated and not you. Your relationship with your parents is described as unfortunate, but not unfamiliar in their line of work. The PR team files these little facts away for a rainy day, detailed and meticulous in their every follow up. 

Harin is clearly pleased that you’re at least moderately attractive, but you watch the way they try to label you and market you, your tattoos at least ‘consistent’ and ‘feminine’ enough to be deemed trendy and artistic. She’s appreciative of your personal style, but when she suggests layering in particular designer pieces to look more elevated you start to think that Harin and her team can only communicate in backhanded compliments. 

By the end they’ve dissected you open. 

It isn’t until one of the PR team members asks you a pointed question about your gay sister that real annoyance flickers through you and Yunho interrupts, making it very clear that Hana and Em are not only off limits, they’ll be publicly supported by both of you if anyone publishes anything negative about them. 

Once again, Harin takes it all in stride, a perfect story and a perfect response for everything. 

It isn’t until the meeting breaks and the room clears out that you get a moment alone with Yunho to digest any of it at all. 

In the sudden quiet of the conference room, Yunho shifts back to work, fielding a litany of texts, his eyes tired as he catches up what he’s missed and invariably needs to make up from being trapped in board rooms all day, and you stay quiet. Your own gut is churning with discomfort, but you bite the inside of your cheek, and you wait. 

Eventually, he drops the phone to the side and sighs, his office chair spinning towards you as he reaches out to take your hand, “I’m sorry,” he says, “you must be so exhausted,” 

“Me? I’m fine,” 

“I didn’t realize they’d take you through all that today,” He admits, “Harin’s just thorough,” 

“Mm,” You nod, “it’s fine,”

He fixes you with a look, finally picking up on your flat tone, “How are you really? And don’t say fine,” 

You can’t lie, not to him. 

He squeezes your hand and you let out an exhausted breath of air, “It’s been a long day,” 

“I know,” He soothes. 

Your chest throbs a little and you pull back from him, “Yun,” you murmur, “why didn’t you tell me about the apartment? About you leaving the group if this goes badly?” 

His back straightens, “What do you mean?” 

“You have to be honest,” You sigh, “you have to talk to me.” 

“You’re upset,” He observes, his brows ticking up in surprise. 

“I’m not,” You say it, even though deep down you both know it’s not the perfect truth, “but you can’t keep handling everything by yourself and expect me to just be on board,” 

His face falls, “Are you uncomfortable with what we decided today? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” You take his hands in yours, “you’re handling all of this so well, but Yunho, what was the plan if Gyu-uk didn’t ask for me to be in the meeting? Would you have told me we were moving in together after getting the keys?” 

“y/n,” He shakes his head, “that’s not it,” 

“Listen,” You settle him, catching his cheek in your hand, “I love you. I love that you’re trying to protect me from this, and I know this is new for both of us, but this is our lives together, we need to make decisions together.” 

“We are,” He presses, “I’m telling you everything, you read all the contracts, I’m,” 

“Yunho,” You press, “stop,” 

“You are upset,” He says. 

“Okay, fine,” You lean back, “I’m upset,” 

“Tell me,” He nods, expectant. 

“I’m trying to!” The words slip out, exasperation through your tone. 

Yunho looks surprised, but he just nods, “Go on,” 

“You think you’re talking to me about everything?” You ask the question calmly, clearly. 

He nods again.  

“Baby,” You shake your head, “you’re keeping me in the loop, but that’s it. You tell me what’s happening after the fact, and then you plug me in to make a decision when you need one,” 

“That’s not fair,” 

“I waited for you for days after I got fired,” You tell him gently, and his face falls, “and when I came back everything was already in motion and we were married before I could even blink. I am so, so happy to be your wife, please don’t misunderstand me,” 

“You regret it?” His heart hammers in his chest. 

“Never,” You slide closer to him, “never, ever. Listen to me,” 

His eyes study yours, his mouth snapping shut. 

“You are making big decisions about our life together without me,” You tell him gently, “I think because you want to shield me from all the bad parts about your life as an idol, or maybe because you think it’s your job as my partner, as my husband, to take care of the hard things so I only get the good parts.” 

His eyes drop. 

“I trust you,” You murmur, “with my life, my whole heart, but I don’t want a marriage like that.” 

His brows draw together, his hands tightening on yours. 

“I want you to tell me our options,” You continue, “I want to decide things together. I want to hear about the bad shit so we can face it together, get through it together.” 

He doesn’t look up. 

“If this all goes badly,” You tell him softly, “I don’t want you pulling the ripcord on your career because you decide you don’t want to put me through something. We’re bonded, we’re married, we’re going through it together no matter what, but I want you to talk to me so we can decide how to get through it together.” 

He sighs, dropping his head into his hands. 

You insist, “I know you’re just trying to keep me safe,” 

He nods. 

“I promise you, I can handle this,” You murmur, “whatever people say about me, whatever people do to me, I don’t care.” 

His head lifts at your words, his eyes flaring with sudden intensity, and his hands close over yours, “No one’s doing anything to you.” 

You can feel the sudden pit of fear in his body, and you shake your head, “Yunho, breathe.” 

His lips pull into a frown and he leans back in his chair, your hands still secured in his. Something’s frozen on the tip of his tongue, you don’t need a soulmate bond to tell you that. 

“What?” You murmur softly, squeezing his hand. 

 His knee bounces, nervous, strained energy bursting out of him until he finally says it, “Did you know that two years ago some fans, stalkers, put GPS trackers on our managers' cars?” 

You nod, “I heard,” 

“Did you know our old dorms were broken into?” He asks calmly, finally turning back to look at you. 

Slowly, you shake your head. 

“We came home after promotions and there were gifts in Yeosang’s room,” He explains, “and letters. A whole box of love letters that started off like fan mail and turned into threats,” 

“Against Yeosang?” Your eyes widen. 

He shakes his head, “No,” he murmurs, “against everyone else. The company was keeping them apart, the management was conspiring against them, the members were jealous of their connection,” 

“Jesus,” You breathe. 

“She was very sick,” Yunho explains, “but very fixated and very motivated.” 

“What happened?” 

“We had security footage, the company turned it into police and she was arrested,” He explains, “but that’s not the point,” 

Your stomach sinks. 

“I want you,” He laces your fingers together, “and I want to be with you in front of the world, all of that is true.” 

You nod. 

“That doesn’t mean I’m not terrified of what that means,” He confesses, “I would shield you from the cruel things people are going to say online because I love you, and I know what that kind of attention feels like, but,” 

You squeeze his hands, your chest aching as he opens up to you more and more. 

With a deep breath he shakes his head, “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “when I say I’m terrified, it’s not about what people could say. It’s what people could do,” 

“Yunho,” You manage.

“I wake up terrified that someone will find your address,” You can feel his heartbeat thundering in your own chest, “that someone who doesn’t know me, but thinks they love me, will find you and hurt you or take you away from me in a way that I c-can’t,”

 His breath hitches on the word and he shakes his head, pushing those thoughts out of his mind, “I didn’t tell you because I don’t want you to be scared, but there are things we have to do to make sure you’re safe once people find out about us, and I won’t risk your safety.” 

“Come here,” You pull him close into a hurried embrace between the chairs, “you think I don’t worry about the same things?” 

He exhales heavily against your hair. 

“I’m not naive,” You murmur, “I’ve worked with you for years, I know what some fans can be like.” 

“Then,” 

“I’m safer if you talk to me,” You pull back to see his eyes, “we’re stronger together and that includes making decisions together. Trust me to know when something doesn’t feel right, let me carry this with you.” 

“y/n,” He murmurs, his expression pained, “some of this job is so ugly, so horrible. I just wanted to keep that from touching you,” 

“I know,” 

“If anything ever happened to you,” He shakes his head, cupping your cheeks.

“I know,” You assure him softly, “but nothing bad is going to happen to me,” 

He just looks at you.

“Yun,” You murmur, “I trust you to keep me safe, I trust your judgement with the company, the extra security, all of it. I just don’t want to be in the dark, I don’t want to be unaware and I don’t want you killing yourself with all this pressure.” 

He sinks forward, his lips connecting with your forehead, but he nods, “Okay,” 

“If we’re together,” You murmur, letting the feeling of his lips ground you to him, “then whatever happens can’t divide us,” 

He nods again, his shoulders sinking, “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m so sorry,” 

“It’s okay,” You pull back, meeting his warm eyes, “we’re okay,” 

“Are we?” He checks, fingers soft on your cheeks. 

“Always,” You assure him. 

He smiles slightly, just a twitch of his lips, his dark brown eyes full of tenderness, “You’re everything to me,” he kisses you softly, “I’ll do better, I promise,” 

You shake your head, taking his hands in yours, “Me too,” you tell him gently, “we’re still just figuring this out. Six months ago we were co-workers, now we’re married,” 

He smiles properly now, “That’s true,”

“And it’s not as if I had the best track record with relationships,” You add, “figuring all of this out takes time, learning how to be the right kind of partner for each other takes time,” 

He hums, appreciative of your words, “I always thought it would come naturally with a soulmate,” he murmurs, “my parents always said it took work, but I never really understood that until you,” 

“Yeah,” 

He nods, sitting up a bit in his chair and sighing, “Together,” he says, “with everything.” 

“That’s all I’m asking for,” You reply gently. 

The tightness in both of your chests relaxes, the steadiness of your heartbeats in time bringing you both back down to center. 

After a moment, Yunho grins wide though and looks back up at you, “Was that our first fight?” 

A laugh bursts out of your lips and you cover your mouth with your hand, “I don’t know if that counts as a fight,” 

“You were upset,” He points out, “I upset you,” 

“I feel like fights have a lot more shouting, we figured that out pretty quickly,” You smile, leaning back in your chair. 

His brows pinch together, head cocking to the side at your words. 

“What?” You ask at his confused expression. 

“Yeobo,” He says slowly, “if that’s your definition of a fight, then I guess we’re never going to have one.” 

His confusion makes no sense to you, and you laugh reflexively, “That’s optimistic,” 

“I don’t shout,” He says, his eyes studying your expression, “not really at anyone, but definitely not at you.” 

“I don’t know,” You shrug, “marriage is hard, things happen. As long as we work through it though,” 

Yunho shakes his head again, “We’re not going to fight like that,” he says gently, “we’ll disagree sometimes and maybe we’ll hurt each other by mistake, but I’ll never raise my voice to you. I don’t do that,” 

Your expression falters. 

In the back of your mind there’s a steady image, your parents face to face, their expressions contorted in anger, shoulders squared off and tense, a broken vase at their feet on the kitchen tile. Hana hiding behind your legs, her small hands gripping your jeans, your body taut with a fraying cord of panic.  

Yunho’s hand gently smooths over yours, “My parents never yelled at each other,” he explains softly, and you wonder how much of your sudden thoughts he could see, feel the shape of, “even when things were difficult. Talking to each other like that,” he shakes his head, “that’s not something I want for us, you won’t get that from me.” 

You manage a nod, your throat tight. 

“So,” He smiles, rubbing the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb, “our first fight, I think we did pretty good,” 

You release a soft puff of air through your lips, his smile infectious, bringing you back once again from the bad memory, “Yeah, I guess we did,” 

“How can I make it up to you?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your lips, “After two weeks of being a controlling ass,”

You roll your eyes, “You weren’t being an ass,” you assure him, “and you’re forgiven, honestly,” 

He brushes past that though, “Dinner,” he says, “Gyu-uk said lay low for the week, but I have my phone back. Let’s do takeout over FaceTime?” 

You grin, nodding, “I’d like that,” 

“I’ll tell you all about this week,” He adds. 

“Mhm,” 

He stands and stretches his tired limbs, “It was eventful,” 

“I thought so,” You stand with him, packing away what little things you have out. 

“Harin said she’d email over the first draft of the announcement tonight too,” He adds, “let’s review it together?” 

You nod, “Perfect,” 

He starts to reach for the door and then doubles back, “Oh,” he says, making a face, “I almost forgot.” 

You watch as he reaches for his wedding ring, twisting it off his finger. 

“Can you keep this safe for me?” He holds it out to you, “Give it back to me on our way to Jeju?” 

You take the warm loop of metal and slide it onto your thumb, the only place it’s sure not to slip off, “Of course,” 

“I have to get to practice,” He murmurs, leaning in and kissing you one last time, “but I love you. Text me when you get home safely?” 

“I will,” You nod, still caught in his gravitational pull as he reaches properly for the door this time. 

Yunho walks you out the same way he walked you in, with a hand on your back, making sure you’re safely in the elevator before he finally leaves you. 

You start the walk home with both wedding bands securely around your fingers, and only then do you allow the pure feeling of relief to flood through your body. 

It’s done.

Finally, finally done. 

By the time you’re home, your face hurts from smiling. You’re dialing Iseul the second you’re tucked away where no one can hear you. 

For the first time in months, a conversation with your best friend isn’t laden with panic and what-ifs. For the first time you’re both laughing, practically giddy. You diagnose every aspect of what being on the Xikers team means for your career, you joke about getting her pulled over onto that team with you so you have the same schedules again. She tells you all about her confrontation with Eunji, the way she dressed her down in front of Dahan and made it perfectly clear she wasn’t a welcome member of their inner circle. You speculate how many days before she quits. You fall apart into peels of laughter at the idea of her quitting the day of the wedding announcement. 

You talk about the honeymoon like it’s a real one, not an island getaway to avoid the press. You try not to think about the fact that you and Yunho are about to change this industry forever. Instead, you just talk to your best friend, in a way that you sorely, sorely missed. 

While you talk, you play with Yunho’s ring on your finger, twisting it this way and that, carving another indent into your skin just for him. You keep it safe, guarding it the same way you’ve been guarding both your hearts since brushing his cheek in Berlin. 

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

This part of Jeju is quiet in the off season. 

Nestled along the shoreline of Seogwipo, you and Yunho wait in a house far too big for two people, but blissfully far away from any other properties, overlooking the dark blue water of the South Sea. Despite the privacy and romantic scenery though, you’re both on edge after arriving late last night and having hours alone with your thoughts before the public announcement. 

You’re still wrapped up in bed at ten the next morning, hitting refresh on the Ateez official Twitter account over and over, nervously double checking the clock and your WiFi connection just to be sure you haven’t missed it. 

“Is it up yet?” Yunho asks softly, two cups of coffee in his hands as he walks back into the large corner bedroom, his wedding ring back in its proper place on his finger. 

“Not yet,” You check your phone again for good measure. 

He sets the coffees on the nightstand and slips back under the fluffy white duvet cover, sliding towards the middle to sit next to you, “They’re probably double checking the language,” 

“Yeah,”

“It’s going to be alright,” He wraps his arm around your back, “we’re going to be alright,” 

“I know,” You breathe, “it’s just a risk,” 

“It’ll be worth it,” He promises, kissing your temple softly. 

You nod, and then the phone buzzes in your hands. 

Both of your eyes snap down and you tap the push notification from Twitter alerting you to the tweet you’ve been waiting for. 

Your heart starts to pick up in your chest as you tap the link to the official announcement, even though you already know exactly what the text will say. You and Yunho both had given your consent on it yesterday before you left Seoul, but that was when it was just a draft in an email. 

This is real. 

Both of your eyes flick over the words. 

KQ Entertainment Artist Announcement 

Hello,

This is KQ Entertainment. 

We would like to provide an update regarding one of our artists, ATEEZ Jeong Yunho. 

Earlier this week, ATEEZ member Yunho was married in a private ceremony, supported by his family and friends. The company offers sincere congratulations and well wishes to the couple. 

While we apologize for the sudden news and any concern this may cause fans, we ask for your kind understanding and support for Yunho at this time. Yunho will continue participating in all ATEEZ activities with the full support of KQ Entertainment. 

We will continue to prioritize the well-being of our artists both professionally and personally, and request that fans do the same. At this time, we request privacy for the couple. 

Thank you.

Yunho takes your hand and gives you a squeeze. 

“It’s really out there,” You breathe. 

He nods, “It is,” 

“How long until they figure out who I am, do you think?” You chew the inside of your lip, dropping the phone back onto your knees, the announcement still open. 

“Not long,” He murmurs, “your socials are all private?”

He’s asked that numerous times over the past few days of preparations, but you smile, “Yes, Yunho,” 

He exhales slowly and wraps his arm back around you, tucking you into his chest. 

Preparation for this announcement had been meticulous, the past week spent quibbling over every word choice and potential outcome.

To maintain as much privacy as possible, you and Hana and Em had all made your social media accounts private, and then you and Yunho had gone to Jeju to weather the storm and stay out of sight.

Yunho kisses your hair gently and brings you out of your thoughts, “Our management should be posting my announcement soon too,” 

You nod. 

Yunho leans to the side and grabs his phone off the nightstand and you watch as he lights up the screen to show dozens of notifications already. He swipes the phone onto Do Not Disturb and swallows audibly, and you feel the onset of nerves in his chest. 

“We’re okay,” You wrap your arms around his middle, pressing a soft kiss to his throat. 

“Mhm,” He holds you closer, “I know,” 

You watch him navigate to Instagram, opening up his own profile, and he nods when he sees the new photo in his grid, “It’s up,” 

He hasn’t let you read it yet, and you shift in his arms to look up at him, “Can I?” 

He nods, placing his phone into your hands before sliding out of bed, “I’m going to get some water,” 

It’s a thinly veiled excuse, but you don’t press him. What he’s written must be deeply personal if he doesn’t want to watch you read it, and you let him go. 

He gives you one soft smile and then disappears again. 

Left alone with his phone, you take a deep breath and tap on the first photo in his grid. 

The post is simple, one single photo of Yunho. He’s far from the camera, sitting along a large stone wall overlooking the ocean in Japan. His head is turned slightly to the left so you can make out his profile and there’s a distinct, soft smile on his face. 

You tap open the text of the post and start to read. 

Atiny, I have something personal to share, more personal than anything I have ever shared before. 

While I know what I am about to tell you may cause concern for me or may upset you, you who I consider precious and beloved, I ask that you please read everything I have to say and remember that I am still your Yunho. 

Late last year, at an unexpected time and in an unexpected place, I accidentally bumped into a woman and knew the moment we touched that she was my soulmate. While she and I have known each other professionally for many years, we did not know that we shared this connection with one another until very recently. In complete honesty, which is what I think you all deserve, we did not know what we should do or how we could move forward and live honestly if we decided to hide this from the world. 

Those of you who have been lucky enough to find your soulmates will understand how difficult these decisions are, and how deeply your life is changed by finding your steadfast partner in life. 

We chose to be honest with our families, our friends, and our company and we will be forever grateful that we have received nothing but kindness and support. We chose to be married so that we could live honestly and openly in your eyes too.

As an idol, I have spent my life receiving love from you. Because of this, there are things I believe I should endure so that I may become a better Yunho and give more to my members and you, our Atiny. Those things are worth enduring to bring you a better Ateez, and I have taken personal pride in being called your happiness, I always will. But there are limits to what I think is fair for us as idols to endure, painful things that go beyond the bounds of what is normal for other professions and for what I believe is right. Idols conceal their relationships for years even after retiring from public life, and those who have announced their relationships have been met in the past with difficult words.

I speak for myself when I say it has been the greatest honor of my life to be a member of Ateez and to be able to feel love and support from our Atiny every day. But it would be dishonest to you and to myself if I did not stand up for my own happiness, and it would be both unfair and unkind to ask my partner, my soulmate, to hide herself away behind the shadow of my career out of fear. 

To my Atiny, I will always be grateful to you for the love and care you have shown me. You have taught me how to live well and how to love well, and it is because of you that have become the bright, energetic person that I am today. Now that I have met my soulmate, I can share that love with her too, someone that I can rely on, someone who helps carry me, and someone who I can spend the rest of my life with. 

I hope that you can give us your understanding and your consideration. I will always be your Ateez Yunho, and I will never stop working hard to be an idol you can embrace and be proud of. 

Atiny, you have been and will always be my happiness, but she is my heart. I can only hope that you can take care of us both for the years to come. 

You take a sharp breath as you finish reading, tears spilling over and splashing onto the screen, your eyes looping over the final sentence over and over again. 

“Was it alright?” Yunho’s voice is gentle, a little fearful, and your head snaps up to see him lingering in the threshold watching you carefully. 

“Alright?” You wipe the tears away with the backs of your hands, “Yunho, it was perfect, I don’t care what anyone says about us, I can’t believe you wrote all that,” 

His posture softens, “Yeah?” 

“Yes,” You take a breath, reaching for him, “I love you,” 

He climbs back into bed with you, arms wrapping around you, “I love you,” 

“It was so perfect,”

He nods, kissing your forehead, “I just wanted to be honest,” 

You lean into him, folding into a hug, until you’re both sliding back down into the bed and cuddling close. 

“It’s out there now,” He says after a few minutes, “everyone’s probably talking about it.” 

“Probably,” You nod, smoothing a hand up and down his arm, “but we’ve got this.” 

He nods, a ragged breath leaving his chest as he falls away from you onto his back, “Yeah,” 

You can feel the slight knot of tension in his gut, but you know he’s trying to stay strong and positive for you. Cuddling into his side again you kiss his chest, “Let’s let it be,” you murmur, “we’ll just hideaway right here,” 

His arm wraps around you, “Right here?” 

“Mhm,” You snuggle closer if it’s at all possible, “just you and me and this big bed. Ateez who?” 

That gets a laugh, and he turns into you, carding a hand through your hair, “Just you and me,” 

“Mhm,” You kiss his chest and he lets his head fall back to the pillow.

Your eyes flutter shut, sinking into the sound of his heart and the feeling of his warm skin. If you’re being honest, your mind is going a mile a minute too, but you focus on breathing in time with him. 

Time passes around you, both of you quiet and resting together, caught in your own individual thoughts. You keep your eyes closed, and for a moment you think Yunho might be falling asleep, his breath evening out and his arm relaxed on your back, but then a heavy pang of shame echoes through the bond and you blink your eyes open. 

The first thing you see is his phone as he quietly scrolls and studies something on the screen.  

“Hey,” You reach up, “what are you doing?” 

“Just checking,” He admits. 

Your eyes flick to the screen, and you see the comment that got a reaction from him. 

I should have known never to trust you. Too nice. Too sweet. It’s always a lie. 

“Stop,” You snatch the phone from his hand, locking the screen fast and putting it to the side. 

“I’m fine,” He swallows tightly. 

“You don’t seem fine,” You murmur, pushing yourself up to lean on his chest and look down at him. 

“I just,” His eyes flick away, “I wish there was a way to be with you that didn’t mean disappointing all of my fans, but they hate me now,” 

“They do not.” You argue. 

“They do,” He shakes his head, “you haven’t read the comments.” 

“The post went up ten minutes ago,” You counter, “the only people commenting are people that have you on post notifications, and I’d bet more than half of those people are the ones who will be the most mad,” 

“y/n,” He sighs. 

“Give it time,” You use the words he’s been using all week, “come here,” 

Pushing his phone farther to the side, you slide up on his chest and tug his mouth to yours. 

“Mm,” He laughs gently against your lips, “What are you doing?”

“It’s a honeymoon, right?” You kiss him again. 

“Yeah, but,” He grips your hips as you kiss him again, cutting off his words. 

“Let me make you feel better,” You murmur, peppering kisses down his throat, “take your mind off things.” 

“Oh,” He blinks as you shimmy down his body, “baby, I’m okay,” 

“Soulmate bond, remember?” You say, “I can tell when you’re stressed.” 

He swallows, the bob of his Adam’s apple shifting under your lips. 

“I think we could both use the distraction,” You admit. 

You feel him soften under your body at that. 

Slowly, you separate your body from his and shift down to the bed between his open legs. His eyes are wide, a pretty flush already across his nose and cheeks, his chest rising and falling more quickly with the rapid onset of his arousal. 

He’s not fully hard yet, but you felt him start to get there at just the suggestion of sex, a firm press against your belly as you slid down over his body. As you peel away his boxers though, your hand ghosting over his cock to tease him, he starts to stiffen up fully, the muscles in his thighs and abdomen twitching at your touch. 

“Sweetheart,” His hands clench down on the duvet, “you’re killing me,” 

“I’ve barely done anything,” You tease him. 

“Doesn’t matter,” He shakes his head, “I think I’m Pavloved to get hard whenever you touch me,” 

You giggle, shaking your head at his words, “Oh yeah?” 

He hisses as your hand closes around his cock more firmly, his hips jumping, “Mhm,” 

“If that were true, wouldn’t you be hard all the time?” You tease him. 

“I basically am,” He smiles down at you, watching the way your hand strokes up and down over him, “you’re very distracting,” 

“Hmm,” You shift downwards in the bedding so that you’re laying on your front between his legs, propped up on your elbows as you continue to tease him, “that sounds difficult,” 

He snorts a gentle laugh, “I wouldn’t say wanting to fuck my wife all the time is a hardship,” 

Arousal bubbles up at his words and you can feel your face heating, “Well,” you murmur, grazing your nails up his abdomen and pushing up his t-shirt, “it’s a good thing you married me then,” 

“Why’s that?” His voice goes a little breathy as you cup his balls. 

“I’m pretty insatiable,” You press a kiss to his inner thigh, “I need a husband who can keep up,” 

He laughs again, his eyes growing hotter, tongue resting cheekily against his upper teeth, “I’ll show you ‘keeping up’,”

“I know you will,” You kiss him again, “we have days to keep ourselves busy,” 

“And distracted,” He groans lightly as you graze the underside of his shaft with your fingers again. 

“Exactly,” You kiss the velvet head of his cock and watch as his mouth falls open. 

“God,” He sighs.

“Just relax,” You murmur, teasing him slowly with a lap of your tongue, “forget about everything else,” 

He’s quiet at that, and when you search the bond you feel his tight hesitation. 

“Just be here with me, baby,” You touch him more, hands up and down his thighs, another lick, the teasing promise of your mouth, “fuck everything that isn’t you and me in this bed.” 

His breath catches, and you answer the sound by finally sliding your mouth down over his leaking cock. You start slow, practiced and measured, gentle bobs of your head up and down as you focus your tongue on his tip, the taste of his precum already salty and hot on your tongue. 

You lavish your mouth over him, focused on ridding him of any feeling but pleasure and need. Slowly you increase the pace, dropping your mouth down further, your nails scratching lovely lines into his thighs, doubling down on any touch that pulls a breathy noise from his lips. 

Despite his sounds, how you touch him, how you taste him, the knot of tension in his gut stays rock steady. You can feel his mind elsewhere. He’s tense, he’s stressed, and there’s an undercurrent of guilt and shame that you just can’t seem to shake out of him no matter how tender you are with your tongue. 

You know what he needs in a surprising pang of clarity, and strangely, you want it just as much as he does. 

You pull back from his cock to take a breath, and without a glance up at him, you find his hands with yours and draw them close. 

He sucks in a sharp breath as you guide his hands to your head, and his voice is hoarse when he says, “Are you sure?” 

You nod, eyes flicking up to his, “I trust you,” 

He studies your face for a moment, and then his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He swallows tightly, and you feel his fingers sink pleasantly into your hair. 

“This okay?” He checks, his fingers tightening against your scalp just a fraction. 

It’s been years since you’ve allowed anyone to touch you like this, but Yunho’s hands feel perfect. 

It feels good. 

You nod again, your heartbeat quickening in your chest in anticipation.

“If you want me to stop,” He brushes one hand over your hair, keeping it back from your face, “tap my thigh, I’ll let go,” 

“I trust you,” You echo it again, and then you dip back down to take his cock deeply in your mouth, his hands heavy on your head. 

He groans earnestly this time, like he can’t stop the sound from ripping out of his chest, and you know he’s restraining himself still but you can feel his satisfaction in the way his fingertips press down. 

“Jesus,” He manages as you bob your head back up and then down, sinking him as far down your throat as you can, “baby,” 

You stay focused on his cock, teasing him with your tongue, sharp sucks, humming sensations at the velvet tip. 

His hands stay gentle, but present, taking it at your pace and letting you drive. 

When you pull off to take in a breath, you pant out one word, “More,” 

His body freezes, his breath caught in his chest, but you’re already back to sucking him sweetly, and he can barely contain himself as he watches you give everything you have to his cock. 

Slowly, experimentally, Yunho applies more pressure to your head, pushing you down on him just a little to see how you’ll take it. 

Your shoulders relax, and you let him push. This normally scares you, it makes you panic and scramble away with anyone else, but with him? After everything? It’s perfect and dizzying, and all you feel is overwhelming care from his side of the bond. 

You go lax in his hands the more he guides you, and you can feel his hips aching to move under your hands. 

You moan, silently begging him for more, when he stops things.

“F-fuck,” He pulls his hips back, drawing his cock from your lips, “come here, baby,” 

Dazed, you lift up to look at him, “What?” 

“Come here,” He beckons you up to him, “I want you closer,” 

His hands slide under your upper arms, gently tugging you towards him and you climb over his thigh, following his direction until you’re kneeling at his side, your knees by his hips. 

He shifts up in the bed until he’s somewhat seated, reclined against the pillows and headboard, and then he reaches out and cups your cheek, “Come lay down,” 

“Here?” You start to shift like you’re going to lay down next to him the same way, but he shakes his head. 

“Like this,” His hand presses against your back, drawing you down towards his abdomen again, and you realize how he wants you. 

You relax down until you’re curled up, your back to the headboard and your cheek against his stomach. 

Yunho rubs your back, soothing you into the new position, “There we go,” 

Like this, every stitch of his anxiety seems gone. Something deep seated in his body needed to touch you like this, see you like this, and you shiver in anticipation. Positioned like this, all you feel is deliciously submissive. 

“Can I touch your hair like this?” He asks softly. 

You nod against him, “Yeah,” 

“Mm,” He sighs pleasantly, “thank you, baby,” 

Your chest expands with dizzy warmth, and his hand tenderly passes over your hair twice before settling into a comfortable spot on the crown of your head. 

“Ready?” He murmurs. 

You nod. 

“That’s good,” His voice is so warm, low in his chest, “put those pretty lips around my cock again, sweetheart,” 

You melt into him, shifting forward to sink down over his shaft again. 

This time, Yunho’s in control, you’re under no illusions otherwise. You moan as he slowly pushes your head down, directing his cock in just deep enough that it settles heavily on your tongue without irritating the back of your throat. 

“Good girl,” He says, and at that your eyes flutter pleasantly closed. 

You press the flat of your tongue to his cock and relax your mouth, breathing in and out slowly through your nose. 

Yunho finds your hand and lifts it, placing it over his thigh, his hand tightening over yours to illustrate his words, “Tap and we stop, okay?” 

“Mm,” You reply, mouth still full of him. 

“Show me,” He strokes your hair. 

You tap his thigh twice, sharp and unmistakable. 

“Good,” He croons. 

Something about this tone from him has your body unspooling. You were just meant to take his mind off the hate comments, distract him with a little blowjob and maybe take a nap after, but something about this feels like therapy for you too. 

“So pretty for me,” He sighs, stroking your hair, letting his cock rest heavy between your lips. 

You sigh, your mind going soft. 

With his wide hand on your head, he applies a little pressure, directing you into a slow, bobbing motion, “There we go,” he says as you catch on, “that’s it, honey,” 

Your eyes roll, your hand gripping his thigh for purchase. 

He keeps this pace for a while, both your head and his hand moving with deliberate sluggishness. Curled against his side you find yourself breathing in and out deeply, almost meditatively, and with his free hand, Yunho continues to rub your back. He makes no attempt to touch you any other way, just slipping his hand under your loose sleep shirt to feel your skin and soothe you as you take his cock like this. 

Slowly, his hips start to move. First in time with the motion of your head, little undulating thrusts that push his cock a little deeper down your throat with every upstroke, but then you feel his hand tighten on your hair. 

You want him to take it.

That’s your single coherent thought as you whine around his shaft, his hand gathering your hair into a loose fist. 

“Good girl,” He groans, “making me feel so good,” 

You hum again, body relaxing in his grip. 

“Letting me use that perfect mouth,” His voice sounds tight again, thready with his own pleasure. 

You moan at his words, saliva pooling in your mouth, dripping and messy down his cock as he picks up the pace. 

“That’s my girl,” He thrusts a little more, fucking your mouth properly now, “oh, god, look at you,” 

Your eyes are watering, your jaw starting to ache, but don’t want to stop, not even close. 

“Can you take it deep, pretty girl?” 

“Mm,” You nod a little, dropping your head down as far as you can with your hair caught in his fist. 

“Oh, fuck,” He sighs, “of course you can,” 

With a push on your head and a jerk of his hips he buries the full length of his cock down your throat and holds you there. 

Your hand tightens on his thigh and Yunho waits, his body still, giving you the easy opportunity to tap out, but you don’t. 

His hand leaves your back, reaching around to cup his own balls and feel just how deeply you’re taking him. He groans, “So perfect,” 

You make a tight noise, the first tickle at the back of your throat, and he lifts your head up to give you a break from the overwhelming sensation of him stretching your mouth. In a second though he’s back to his pace before, sharp thrusts that drag his cock over your tongue, his breath getting more audible as he uses you. 

You can tell he’s close before he says it, the feeling of his pleasure building in your own gut, but you still moan when you hear him say it, his words punctuated by sharp pants, “I’m gonna come, baby,” 

It happens fast, with a jerk he pulls you off his cock entirely and you suck in a full, startled breath of air. 

He fists his cock, his arm wrapped around you, and he pumps himself hard and fast. 

“Fuck,” He shudders under you, “I’m close,” 

“Please,” Your voice is hoarse, but you nod, holding yourself up with your hands braced on his thighs, “Come,” 

He shudders, groaning, and you close your eyes again as his orgasm hits, warm cum splattering over you - painting your chest, your throat, ropes of his release on your lips and cheeks. 

You’re both breathing heavy, trembling, but Yunho clears the fog with a shake of his head and he releases his tight hold on your hair, easing you down to the bedding. He slips out from under you, dipping off the edge of the bed and you watch as he pulls his boxers back up and darts into the master bathroom and back out again, a damp washcloth in his hands. 

He’s sweaty, his neck and cheeks still dark pink, and you smile up at him as he kneels on the bed to get closer to you. 

“Hey,” He murmurs softly, “relax, let me clean you up,”

Your mind feels mushy and delicious even though you haven’t even come, and all you can manage is to hum a soft, affirmative response as he quickly wipes away his release from your skin. 

Yunho’s eyes flick over you, taking stock of your body language, your facial expression, how you’re feeling in the bond, before tossing the towel aside and laying down to be eye level with you. 

“Jagi,” He says softly, fingertips gentle on your jaw, “are you alright?” 

“Mhm,” You nod lazily. 

“I know that was big,” He massages your jaw with light pressure, “tell me how you’re feeling,” 

Words still feel distant, almost foreign, and you blink, “Good,” you manage. 

His lips turn up on one side, “Floaty?” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, and you don’t know how he picked out the perfect word for how you’re feeling but he did. 

“Okay,” Yunho murmurs, “I got you, baby.” 

He wraps you up in his arms again but keeps his eyes on your face, guiding you through whatever soft, blissful feeling you’re swimming through. 

“Love you so much,” He whispers as he kisses your forehead. 

Little by little, your body and your mind seem to come back online, and finally you blink up at him, “Was that okay?” 

“It was amazing,” He assures you, “you’re amazing,” 

You smile, feeling strangely shy. You’ve never done something quite so intimate, never surrendered control like that. You’ve always liked men to be a little bossy, and you’ve loved how direct and vocal Yunho is when you have sex, but this was something altogether more intense and you’ve never felt safer or more held by him. 

His fingers slip into your hair again, massaging your tender scalp, “Was I too rough at all?” 

“No,” You breathe, “just right,” 

He smiles at your expression and nods, “Good,” 

“You feel better?” You manage. 

“Mhm,” He huffs a small laugh as if to say it’s obvious, but then he directs the attention back to you, “did you like that?” 

“A lot,” You confess. 

He grins this time, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, leaning your head back unconsciously into his hand, “you were so gentle,” 

“Good,” He softens, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, “I love you,” 

“Love you too,” You sigh. 

Yunho gently lets you relax back down onto your back before he slides off the bed again, “I’m going to start the bath for you, okay?” 

“Yeah,” You nod, “that sounds nice.” 

“I’ll be just in there, okay?” He nods towards the bathroom, “I’ll come get you in a minute,” 

“Okay,” 

He gives you another smile, and then disappears through the bathroom door. 

For a minute you take stock of your body. You feel relaxed down to your very core, something about the way Yunho held you and touched you during the blowjob felt primal, essential. You stretch out your limbs against the mattress, listening to the steady pour of the water from the next room, and by the time you sit up in the bed you feel strangely proud. It feels like a new chapter, maybe even an entirely new book. 

You pull yourself off the bed and right the sheets, and your eyes catch on Yunho’s phone. 

The rest of the world was undoubtedly talking about you both right now, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not after that. You take your phone and his and place them both face down on the bedside table, and resolve not to look at them again until much, much later. Whatever the world was saying would have to wait. 

You step into the doorway of the bathroom and smile when you see him again, pangs of your own arousal thrumming back through you. 

Yunho’s crouched by the side of the large, deep porcelain tub, his hand under the steady stream of water to gauge the temperature. 

“Almost ready?” You ask him. 

His head turns a little at the sound of your voice, “Yeah,” he says, “how are you feeling?” 

“Honestly? Kind of amazing,” You say. 

“Good,” He sighs. 

With a smile, you pull your sleep top off. 

Yunho passes his hand through the water in the tub, “it’s a little warm,” 

“I like warm,” You let your top fall to the floor and tug on the drawstring of your pants. 

His back is still to you as he adjusts the temperature of the water one last time. 

While he’s not looking you push your pants down and kick them away, your underwear right along with them, so that when he turns back around you’re naked and standing in the bathroom doorway. 

“I think if you want,” He starts to say as he looks up, but the words die on his lips and his eyes rake over you in an instant. 

“If I want what?” You smile, stepping into the room properly. 

“Want what?” He fumbles over his words, brow creased with confusion as he meets your eyes again. 

“Flustered,” You tease him, “that’s cute, you’ve seen me naked before,” 

He recovers, smirking and reaching for you, “It really does not get old,” he says, “now come here and let me touch you,” 

“Yeah?” You can’t help but take your sweet time, loving his hot eyes on you, the way his voice gets deeper when he sees you like this. 

He takes two steps towards you, pulling off his white t-shirt and letting it drop to the floor beside your discarded clothes, “I said, come here,” he murmurs as he gently tugs you into his space, “and let me touch you.” 

His hands travel over you slowly, lovingly. 

For a split second you think of the world outside, your phones on the nightstand, and you dip closer to press yourself against his bare chest, soaking up the feeling of so much skin on skin. 

“Hey,” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around you, “you okay?” 

You nod, “I’m good,” 

“You sure?” He checks, feeling the sudden pangs of tension in your chest. 

“Yeah,” You kiss his bare chest, “I just thought about everything else for a second,” 

“Mm,” He hums, a hand softly in your hair, “I got you, let’s just relax,” 

He draws you to the edge of the bath and checks the water once again, but you’re already reaching in, finding the water just the right amount of hot. He’s shucking off his boxers as you straighten back up to tie up your hair.

“Perfect,” You step directly into the water. 

Yunho’s hand settles under your elbow, “Careful,” 

“Babe,” You chastise him lightly, but if you’re being honest the affection in his voice and his tender care with you is something you could never really tire of, not when it’s him. 

“I don’t want you to slip,” He admits, stepping in behind you until you’re both standing in the center of the deep basin of water. 

“Mhm,” You start to say more, but his arms wrap around you loosely, his body nestled close to yours. 

“Look at that,” He says, nodding towards the floor to ceiling window along one wall of the bathroom. 

You look back up at the view and any teasing thoughts slip out of your mind. It’s beautiful, a private view only for your eyes, hidden away from the world entirely. The dark rocky beach outside leads right into the bright blue ocean, a little slice of heaven tucked away along the coastline in Jeju. 

“Now this,” You sigh, “this feels like a honeymoon,” 

Yunho kisses your shoulder, “I love you,” 

“I love you too,” 

He kisses you again and then shifts back to sit down in the bath and you sink down into the water with him. His hands slide across your body and draw you back so that you’re settled between his open legs, your back resting on his chest. 

“Not too hot?” He asks. 

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head against the broad plane of his shoulder. 

Tangled together in the warmth of the water you rest, letting the tension in your muscles unspool, watching the waves surge against the rocks outside. For a while you just let it be, his arms wrapped around you in the cocoon of the water, fingertips grazing gently along your skin. 

“It looks like rain,” He finally says softly. 

You nod, “A storm,” 

“That’s alright,” He kisses your hair, “we don’t have anywhere to be,” 

You soften in his embrace, cuddled against him, “True,” you murmur, “just here.” 

“Tonight,” He says, “I’m thinking, movies on the couch? The TV out there is huge we could set it up like a theater,” 

“Like a sleepover,” You smile.

“Great idea,”

 “We’ll bring the pillows and duvet out,” You say, “oh, and snacks,” 

You feel his happiness, his contented warmth through the bond, “I love it,” 

Turning your head, you catch his bicep with a quick kiss, “This house is so nice, this is like rich rich.” 

He hums, gathering you a little closer, “Yeah,” he nods, “do you like it?” 

“It’s nice,” You tell him honestly, “this view is crazy,” 

A few birds cut across the darkening sky, the waves rougher against the rocks, but inside it’s perfectly silent and warm. 

He huffs a little laugh against your hair, “You want a house like this?” 

You shake your head immediately, “That’s crazy,” 

“Why?” He kisses your hair. 

“Yunho,” You nudge him gently with your elbow. 

“Yeobo,” He says affectionately, amusement in his voice, “I have money,” 

“Not this much money,” You laugh. 

He’s quiet, not laughing along like you’d expect, and then he clears his throat, “I do, actually,”  

You turn your head, twisting to see his face, “What?” 

“Uh,” He blushes a little, “well yeah, when I was eighteen my father helped me set up a few funds for myself, a way to keep my salary set aside as a nest egg and then some investments.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“Now that I’m sure we won’t have to pay back any debts, and we’ll start getting properly compensated for the albums,” He smiles, “well, if I don’t have enough to buy this house today, I’ll have it in a year or two.” 

“Fuck,” You blink, the curse slipping out. 

He laughs, his head dropping to lean his forehead against your hair, “Did you think I was completely broke?” 

“You always hear about idols who never get their paychecks,” You counter, “like five years in and they don’t have a cent,” 

He shakes his head, lifting up to meet your eyes, “Well, I’m definitely not broke,” he smiles, “I like that you married me anyways, though,” 

You roll your eyes, nudging him in the chest, water sloshing around you, “Shut up,” 

He grins, “So,” he gestures with a jerk of his head to the room, “you want a house like this someday?” 

“This?” You shake your head, “This place is too much,” 

He looks amused at that idea. 

“Do you want a house like this?” 

He shrugs, “We could,” 

“You’re serious,” You laugh, still wide eyed in surprise. 

“You’re cute,” He kisses your lips once, before shifting you back to your reclined position in his arms against his chest, “you really thought I was broke,” 

“I don’t know,” You grumble, finding his hand under the water and thoughtlessly playing with his fingers. 

He smiles against your hair, and the sky outside opens up with rain. For a few moments you both rest together again, and then he murmurs a soft question, “y/n,” he says, “before Berlin, what did you imagine for your life?” 

 “My life?” You turn your head a little, your cheek against his wet chest. 

“Mhm,” He hums, the warm vibration of his tone running through you, “did you have big career dreams? A house in the country? You’ve never said,” 

You smile, your eyes locked on his wedding band and yours under the water, “I don’t know,” you confess, “for a long time I was just focused on making it out of my house, and then focused on protecting Hana,” 

He strokes your arm gently, listening quietly. 

“I imagined finding my soulmate someday,” You murmur, “and I love Seoul, I think it would be hard to leave the city. I love my life there, and my work is definitely suited for it,” 

“Mm,” He nods. 

“I don’t know,” You confess, “I just want a place of our own, somewhere we can make memories, I’ve never really worried about how big or how nice it would be,”

“I’d like that,” He murmurs. 

Your eyes drift shut and you think about your life, the images you played in your mind over and over while you waited for his call at Hana and Em’s. 

“I’d like a garden,” You continue, “and a nice kitchen. I’m not the best cook, but I’d like to learn,” 

Yunho’s hand laces with yours and he brings them up out of the water to kiss your knuckles, “What else?” 

“Hmm,” You shiver at the cool air in the room and he wraps you up, “a big bed, you’re so tall.” 

He laughs. 

Your stomach flip flops and you let your eyes open, finding your rings again before you confess a little more, “Maybe some extra bedrooms,” 

Yunho’s breath catches, his body stiffening behind you, “Yeah?” His voice is small, tentative as he searches for your meaning. 

You swallow tightly, a nervous bubble in your chest, “Enough space to grow into,” your voice nearly a whisper, “if we want a family?” 

He’s quiet, but his lips drop to rest on the crown of your head. He takes in a slow breath and then says, “How many extra bedrooms do you think we’ll need?” 

Warmth floods the bond, unfettered tenderness in your chest, “Maybe two?” 

Yunho squeezes your hand, “Two’s great, two’s perfect,” 

“You think so?” Your smile grows. 

He nods, “Yeah,” he murmurs. 

“Someday,” You kiss his arm again. 

“Someday,” He agrees, his hand coming to rest over your soulmark, his palm warm over the sensitive skin of your looping red tattoo. 

You hum pleasantly as he kisses your forehead, your eyes drifting shut with a sigh. For a minute, you just listen to the rain against the window, your hearts syncing up their rhythms. The water laps around you with every little movement, relaxing you both into a pliant, warm mess of limbs. 

Yunho shifts behind you, and then the hand over your soulmark shifts, and you gasp lightly as it closes over your breast, kneading the soft flesh with gentle firmness. 

“Oh,” You exhale, “that’s nice,” 

“Mhm,” He squeezes your breast again, fingers teasing gently at your nipple while his opposite hand drifts down your belly, a promising descent towards your parted thighs. 

Your body responds instantly, heat reigniting to the surface. 

“I think it’s your turn,” He murmurs. 

You nod against his chest. 

“Let me take care of you, pretty girl,” He says as his finger curls over your mound and dips into your slick folds. 

“Oh, yes,” You sigh, letting your legs fall open a little more, your knees pressing against Yunho’s inner thighs. 

“Mm,” He slides his fingers over your clit, “you’re wet,” 

You can feel that you’re slippery from how easily he’s touching you, the bath water not enough to dull how much you want him, and you nod. 

“Are you that easy?” He says appreciatively, “Or have you been wet this whole time?” 

You moan as he rocks his fingers, “Whole time,” 

“Sucking my cock got you wet?” He teases. 

You nod, your legs straining to open wider despite the lack of space in the tub. 

“Look at you squirming,” He dips his head, nudging your face to the side so he can kiss your temple. 

“Feels good,” You sigh, your hips twitching to chase the stroke of his fingers as he rubs you. 

Yunho pulls his fingers away from your aching cunt and you suck in a sharp breath, “Relax,” he nips at your ear, “I’ll make you come,”

“But,” You manage, breathless already. 

“Let me touch you,” His hands feel heavier on your body this time, dragging up your stomach, over your sides, cupping your breasts in his large hands. 

You buck as his fingers tease at your nipples. 

“So sensitive,” He comments softly, “I wonder if you could come just from this?” 

“From this?” You gasp sharply as his fingers flick back and forth over your hardening nipples. 

Pleasure arcs through you, molten and throbbing from your chest down to your clit, and you grip down on his thighs. 

“That good?” He adjusts, leaning forwards a bit so he can kiss down your neck, sucking over your pulse point as he teases your nipples. 

You whine sharply, hips bucking on their own, “Oh, god,” 

He squeezes both your breasts again and groans, “Oh, baby,” he sighs, “one of these days I’m going to spend all night playing with these perfect tits,” 

“Please,” You pant, but what you really need is his fingers on your clit again. 

“Mm,” He drags his hands down, exploring your body under the water again, “I want to do everything with you,” 

“Yeah,” You breath, head lolling back onto his chest again, “yes,” 

Yunho’s hands settle on your hips, and then they stop. 

An involuntary whimper bubbles out of you and your hips rock, looking for some kind of touch, some friction. 

He takes in a slow, steady breath and then exhales against your temple, “What do you want, jagi?” 

Your hand searches for his, trying to tug it down between your open thighs, “You know what I want,” 

“Do I?” You can feel his smirk against your skin. 

Yunho lets you move his hand, pushing it into the right place over your slit, but he doesn’t move at all. You press down over his hand, trying to get his fingers back in the right spot, “Yunho,” you whine.

“Ask me nicely,” He says simply, “ask for what you want, and I’ll do it.” 

“Touch me,” You beg. 

“I am touching you,” He squeezes your hip. 

“Yunho,” 

“Ask me nicely,” He enunciates every word, his lips against your ear. 

Your heartbeat picks up, hammering in your chest. This side of him brings out something in you that you never understood before, but now you don’t know if you could feel this good any other way. 

“I already know what you want,” He murmurs, “I want to hear you ask for it,” 

You swallow tightly, “Please, Yunho,” you say, “will you make me come?” 

He smiles against your ear, “How?” 

Your nails dig into his skin, “Rub my clit,” 

“Uh huh,” He nods, prompting you. 

“Please,” You correct, realizing what he wants to hear, “Will you rub my clit, please?” 

“Of course, baby,” He teases, and all at once he starts to play your body like an instrument. 

His fingers shift over your clit, circling with perfect, firm pressure, and his other hand slides up your body, his fingers splayed wide over your chest and pinning you in place to his shoulder. 

You arch into him, one hand flying out of the water to grip the side of the tub, “Oh, fuck,” 

“There you go,” He says low against your forehead, “does that feel good?” 

“So good,” You shudder in his arms, “don’t stop,” 

“Not gonna stop,” He promises, his fingers sliding through your slick slit to gather more wetness, doubling his efforts on your clit. 

Your eyes slam shut, your body rocking against him as he cages you in, and you feel the stiff length of his cock nudging at your back the longer you writhe against him, the only sounds in the room, your echoing moans and the rhythmic slosh of the water. 

“Love you like this,” He groans, his hand sliding up to the base of your throat, “who knew my soulmate would be such a needy, filthy girl?” 

Pressure tightens in your gut, “God, oh god,” 

“And so good for me,” He sighs, rolling his fingers faster, “you like being told what to do, don’t you?” 

“Yes!” Your mind is starting to fray at the edges, only pleasure and his voice and the warm water. 

Yunho leans forwards in the tub, sitting up properly and slipping the hand that was on your throat under the water and between your legs. You’re not ready for the sensation of two of his fingers pushing inside you, and you gasp, your hand slipping on the porcelain lip of the tub, your body snapping forwards. 

“Ah, ah,” He’s quick to catch you, pulling his fingers out and bracing you back against his chest, “careful, babygirl,” 

You can’t say a word, your body too close to the edge. Your hips rut with needy, artless jerks into the firm press of his fingers, and you reach back to grip onto his shoulder, a whimper on your lips. 

“Suck,” He says suddenly, pressing two of his fingers through your lips, and you accept them with ease, “good girl, good girl,” 

You taste yourself on his fingers, lips closing instinctively just like he wanted you to, and through the dizzy haze of your almost orgasm you suck, taking them heavy on your tongue. 

He groans, his breath hot on your ear. 

Whimpering, your legs jerk with a spasm of sensation, just a little more and you’ll tip right over. 

Yunho laughs, amusement in his voice at how quickly you’re following his every direction, “Oh,” he drags out the sound to tease you, “needy girl,” 

You whine, clinging to his slick shoulder. 

“Come like that, just like that,” He says, “suck on my fingers while you come,” 

You inhale sharply through your nose, head digging into his shoulder as you arch, “Mm, mm!”

“There it is,” He pants, rubbing your clit faster, “there it is, come on, sweetheart, come for me,” 

Your orgasm slams into you, and you shudder in his arms, your body jerking so sharply that water sloshes over the side of the bath, but he just stays focused and works you through it. 

You jerk your head and he pulls his fingers free as you moan out the broken sound of his name. 

“I got you,” He kisses whatever part of your skin he can reach at this angle, “I got you, that’s it,” 

When his fingers finally slow, your brain is buzzing. You’re slumped lower in the water, your legs clamped together and bent at the knees, and you're shaking from your top to your toes. 

“Holy shit,” Yunho breathes, his hands finding your waist to pull you back up out of the water and against his chest again. 

You manage a nod, but your chest is still heaving. 

He kisses the side of your head hard and chuckles, “I think you have an oral fixation,” 

His words don’t sink through the cottony afterglow of your brain though, “Hmm?” 

“Nothing,” He smiles, “not a thing,” 

You feel the hard nudge of his cock against your lower back, and you twist in the bath, more water sloshing over the sides as you follow the needy pull inside you, finding his mouth, “Kiss me,” 

He groans against your lips, his tongue flicking against yours. 

“I want you,” You confess, trying to turn around despite the tangle of his long legs, “please,” 

He nods, but pushes you back, “Let’s go to bed, the bath isn’t big enough for that,” 

“Yeah,” You slide backwards in the tub through the water, and try to stand but find your legs still a little weak. 

“Hang on,” He holds a hand out to you, keeping you in place. 

He climbs out of the bathtub, grabbing a towel from a hook on the wall and tossing it down on the wet floor to keep you both from slipping, and then he locates two luxuriously fluffy looking white robes and smiles down at you, “Here, baby,” 

He pulls his robe on first, and then holds one out to you, slipping it on you as you get out of the tub. You wrap the robe around yourself, tying the cord, but before you can dry off properly, Yunho pulls you into his arms, one arm under your knees as he carries you. 

A startled noise slips out and you laugh, “Yunho!” 

“You’re still shaking,” He says, stepping back into the master bedroom, “I’m just helping,” 

He tucks you both into bed despite your still wet skin, yanking the fluffy duvet up over both of you until you’re completely encased under the covers with him. He tugs you close, wrapping his arms around you until you’re chest to chest, nose to nose. 

You laugh softly, “What are you doing?” 

“Warming you up,” He murmurs, rubbing up and down your back, “you’re shivering,” 

You reach up, looping your arms around his shoulders and diving into another kiss. His hands on your back slow, fingers gripping down as the kiss heats up again, and you pull yourself closer to touch more of him. 

Your robe parts open naturally as your legs tangle together, and Yunho slips a hand underneath to cup your ass, groaning into your mouth as you buck against him. You lose yourselves in the kiss, more skin starting to press together, and your heart beats hard in your chest, the heat between you building in steady waves. 

“Love kissing you,” He pants before dipping his tongue back into your mouth. 

Something between a sigh and a moan slips from your lips and you nod, “Love you,” 

His hand travels, sliding up to lock down on your hip. 

Your body’s thrumming, the orgasm in the bath only enough to settle your need for him for a few moments. Tucked away with him like this, the warm air of your shared breath, just the sounds of your bodies together, it’s enough to make you wish this were your whole life. Rich, tucked away on the coastline, only the two of you, no amount of days together enough to sate this hunger in your belly.  

His hand slips between your bodies where your stomach presses into his, and he finds the tie of your robe, pulling at just the right angle for the knot to come undone and the fabric to fall slack around your body. 

“Mm,” You slip a hand into his robe, gripping his firm ass, “please,” 

His hot eyes flick over you, settling on your face, “You need it?” 

“Yes,” You breathe. 

“Hold onto me,” He says as he kisses you once more, and then he hikes your leg up by your knee to hook over his hip, opening you up wide. 

You grip down on his shoulders, “Yes, yes,” 

Reaching between your bodies he pushes his robe open and directs his hard length into your slick heat, no amount of hesitation in the way he pushes into you. Once his cock catches, he secures a hand back on your ass and drags you down as he thrusts, sheathing himself deep inside you. 

You moan at the familiar stretch, “Oh, Yunho,” 

“Baby,” He shivers, “god,” 

Without another word, you sink into each other. Your lips connecting in a crash, tongues tangling as you moan into him. Using his shoulders and your leg hitched over his hip to secure yourself to him, you start to roll your body.  Yunho curses, hips snapping into a steady rhythm, his hands anchored on your naked skin and pulling you back onto his cock with every stroke. 

It’s needy, frantic, and you wonder distantly if there will ever be a time that sex with him doesn’t feel like an all consuming wildfire in your veins. This time there’s nothing to say, no teasing, no dirty talk, just both of you moving hungrily together, every kiss bringing you higher and higher as his cock spears you open. 

You fuck like this until Yunho changes the tempo, responding to the sound of your arden whimpers. 

Without breaking the kiss he rolls onto his back, dragging you with him so that you’re perched on his hips, the sudden position change pushing his cock in to the hilt. 

You moan sharply, the kiss disconnecting as you tremble over him, “Oh my f-fuck,” 

His hands grip your hips, “You’re so tight,” 

Heat floods your brain, and you scramble to sit upright, your robe falling off your shoulders. You shove it off, pushing it to the side, and then pull open the tie on Yunho’s robe, getting it open so you can see all of him. 

“C’mere,” Yunho mumbles, taking your hands in his and lacing your fingers together, “god, you’re beautiful,” 

Your cunt clenches around him. 

“Yes,” He nods, pupils blown with desire as he looks up at you, “ride me,” 

Using his hands as your balance, you lean into it, hooking your feet over his muscular thighs. You bounce on him slowly at first, getting used to the feeling of how deep inside you his cock connects every time you drop down, but once you have it, you let yourself get lost in it. 

His eyes flick from your face down to the connection of your bodies, and his plush lips part as he watches his cock disappear all the way into your slick sex again and again. 

“Good girl,” He sighs, squeezing your hands, “that’s it, baby, keep fucking yourself on my cock,” 

You gasp sharply, pleasure blooming inside you, his and yours all at once in a tangled mess of want. 

“Oh god,” Your thighs are aching, but you keep going, up and down with every breath, the sound of your bodies wet and messy. 

“Say my name,” He pants. 

You crumble a little, shoulders caving in but he holds you steady with his hands, “Yunho,” you moan, “Yunho, Yunho,” 

“That’s right,” He says, nodding up at you, “tell me how good it feels, babygirl,” 

“S-so good,” You can feel it building, knotting in your belly, “love your cock,” 

“Yeah?” He groans, his head pressing back into the pillows. 

“Yes, yes,” You grip his hands harder. 

“Don’t stop,” His eyes find yours, “ride me until you’re coming all over this dick, baby,” 

You fall forwards, pressing his hands back into the mattress, and your brain shorts. In a breath you’re dropping down your hips so that he’s fully buried inside you, a cry on your lips as you start to grind against him. 

Yunho disconnects your hands and you collapse on his chest, your head over his shoulder, lips against his throat, your body just jerking and grinding against him as you chase your pleasure. 

He hisses, his arms banding around you, “Fuck, pretty girl,” 

You whimper into him, “Need it,” 

“I know,” He murmurs, turning his head to yours, “I got you,” 

“Close,” 

He holds you to his chest, his lips at your forehead, “Come for me, sweetheart,” 

“Oh, god,” You grind down on him harder, endlessly rolling your hips, faster and faster as your body tightens. 

“You’re all mine,” He soothes, “aren’t you, gorgeous girl?” 

“All yours,” You babble into his skin. 

He groans, his hips jerking under you just once, but he holds himself still so you can take what you need. 

It comes over you fast, and you fall apart into needy shakes above him, biting down on his shoulder as your body breaks open. Sucking in a sharp breath, he adjusts his legs under you, and with a few hurried thrusts into your spasming cunt, he spills himself hot and deep inside you. 

“Perfect girl,” He presses kisses over your face, holding you to his chest, “love you so much,” 

You’re still panting, out of breath, but you nod, “L-love you,” 

You fall asleep in a tangle of sheets, his cock still deep in you, his hands stroking a tender line down your back. 

The world outside, completely forgotten. 

Nothing but you and Yunho and your makeshift honeymoon suite. 

**remember to continue on to section 2!

[frostbitten-x]

Hii darling, can I ask for something with Morpheus when Ophelia is in her room after just turning and he came to say how happy he is we choosed to stay with him <3

Hi, sweet anon! I would love to show you this kind of interaction! 🤎

It's not immediately after she turns, but right before the banquet after he comes back from gathering his artifacts— when she was grieving her wings still and he was just too relieved by her choice to stay to understand how deeply hurt she truly is.

Both of them in such different places, but so close either way.

A warning: Morpheus being Morpheus.

dress

You were sure he didn’t mean for this to be as complicated as it actually was.

Tie these ribbons.

The dress was beautiful, long black lace was covering your whole body— hugging your new found curves as you watch yourself in the mirror. Shoulder pads made out of black feathers covered your shoulders down to your breasts, like they were your long lost wings. 

And by the softest of the material, you knew they were exactly what inspired him to burst this attire into existence. 

The night of the banquet in his honor was tonight, all your friends and neighbors would attend for they wanted to see their Lord with their own eyes. After over one hundred years of absence, Morpheus finally gathered all his artifacts and made the Dreaming flourish once again in magic, light and imagination. You watched your friends come back home, tearful eyes and amazed gazes.

It was as if nothing changed.

Except you did, of course.

You huff in annoyance as you drop your hands on your sides and try to relax your shoulders— for you were struggling with tying the bow on your back. Fingers out of training, clumsy and lazy. You pulled, made your dress hug you tighter and then all the tension would be lost once you tried to tie it to secure the fit.

Frustrated, you let go of the ribbons and hold your forehead in your hands. Trying to calm the growing irritation at this new and alien form you’ve taken before even trying it once again. You roll your shoulders, inhaling and exhaling softly— just as Lucienne has taught you a few days ago, when panic and vice rose from your throat.

Where were your wings? you cry internally to yourself.

And then, the air tastes like stardust bursting through “Are your fingers already tired, Ophelia?” you don’t even know where he came from, only that he was here. And it makes you jump in your place as you look at him through the mirror, his eyes filled with amusement.

“You could’ve announced yourself, my Lord” you point out, hugging your form as you sigh— then, you need to check your tone “Not tired” you respond to his question, softer and collected “Just clumsy”

He hums, and in one movement he’s already behind you— before you could fully understand what that deeply concentrated look on his face was when he looked down at you back, your spine arches when his cold finger grazed your naked skin. It makes him stop his movements and look at your eyes through the mirror “Apologies” he rasps out, pursing his lips.

You breath in shakily “I just didn’t expect it” you whisper, voice little as you feel the need to crawl out of your skin.

He considers your warm face for a second too long, “May I assist you, little bird?” he rasps, and waits for an answer.

“Yes” you whisper, tilting your head as you look away— fingers playing with the hairs of your feathers.

And then, his fingers are back again on your skin, tightening ribbons and making you feel dizzier than ever. Movements slow, but secure— you feel the fabric hug your figure tighter and tighter, as he meant for this dress to actually look like.

You find yourself asking if this is what vertigo feels like.

You wouldn’t know, you’ve spent three parts of your life up in the sky. Soaring day and night, chasing stars and moons—

Would you ever fly again?

Your lips pull downwards, and you try not to show how depressing your inner turmoil was turning.

His hand grazes your lower back once he’s tying the ribbon— and you find relief when his hands drop to his sides.

“Thank you, my Lord”

His eyes are travelling on your reflection, curious and seeking— you weren’t sure for what.

His hands reach for your elbows “Turn around” he whispers, bending slightly down to get closer to your ear.

You do as you’re told, and look up at his own attire. 

And you could’ve sworn it was matching yours. 

Your fingers can’t help but wander up, touching the soft silk of the dress shirt under his coat— biting the inside of your lip as you try to calm your racing heart down.

“Are you comfortable in this tower?” he rasps out.

You look up at him through your eyelashes, “I like it here” you whisper as you play with one of his buttons “it’s quiet” you eyes fall.

“Quiet” he echoes, as if he’s a bit surprised by the use of the word. As if you could ever truly wish for quietness “Lonely” he counterparts, and your eyes flash up to his before going down again— his fingers flex on your bent elbow, squeezing softly as he insists on an answer.

“No” you shake your head softly “Just— just quiet”

He hums, hands travelling— fingers ruffling feathers and grazing skin.

The pressure he applies to you jawline is delicious, and it almost makes you want to melt under his touch “You deserve quietness” he whispers, making you look up at him once again.

It echoes in your head, because it’s almost an acknowledgement of your own aches.

His eyes wander down to where scarring tissue covers your shoulder, and you feel almost too hot in embarrassment to look at his face.

Your scar was an echo of his own. 

A reminder.

He flutters his eyelashes and looks up at your eyes once again, and the silence lingers as he looks for the words you know he wants to say.

But he's your Dream Lord.

And right now you can't find within yourself to reproach when his words fall short.

“I am glad you are still here” he rasps, almost as if it’s hurtful.

You frown, “Where else would I be?” it comes out before you fully understand his words. 

For he’s not talking about the Dreaming.

Your eyes fall again, now his gaze was truly unbearable.

Because you can not acknowledge it yourself.

Not with this open wound of the size of your heart.

“I am glad you are here too, my Lord” you croak out, looking up at him again.

And by the pained look in his eyes you knew— he understood your meaning matched his own.

I am glad you breathe, I am glad you are back, I am glad you’re not long gone from me.

“You may stay in this tower for as long as you need to—” he rasps, letting go of your jaw now “And when you grow tired of this arrangement, we can think of something different” 

And with that, he’s gone out the door.

And your head is reeling at the implication you think you've heard in his voice.

Taglist! 🤎 @elinadenise @thelady-of-dragonfire @radioactivewatson @jeshomie @getitrtealgood @stranger-chan @universallyrascaldreamercookie @edynmeyer1 @littlemisstrashcan

Series' masterlist

[starkitxxz]

Crave you like a drug🎄💊

Sol x gn!reader

HAPPY HOLIDAYS FELLOW READERS AND TO EVERYONE CELEBRATING THIS DAY! I might be a little late but oh well... *proceeds to drop the trigger warnings

TW: DRUGGING, vague mentions of stalking and somnophilia, mentions of private parts, sexual themes, implied NONCON S3X, [Reader] is a virgin

Not suitable for minors, proceed with caution.

Wc: 3.2k

“Keep it hidden, and do whatever you want. Just be careful.” He said as he handed out what his friend needed.

“But I’ve been craving them so badly-”

“Do you want to make it riskier for you?”

“I- Fine. I’ll be careful.”

“Good.” 

♡♡♡

You flick the switch of the heater, warm light beginning to radiate heat from its vents. 

The once cold, lifeless room was filled with holiday decorations. Wreaths and colorful lights brought the place to life. A medium-sized Christmas tree was placed on the corner of the room, cute little ornaments stacked on its artificial leaves. Even though it wasn’t as big as those you see online, it was enough to make you feel the holiday spirit.

You flopped down on the couch and switched the TV on with the remote, wearing Sol’s soft jacket that you kept since he gave it to you a few days ago. You treasured it like it’s something special to you, something that can shield you from an icy blizzard. 

The reporter on the screen held her microphone in the middle of the sidewalk. Snowflakes continued falling as it clumped up into a small pile of snow, as if a pile of autumn leaves were replaced by frozen stardust. The reporter adjusted her fluffy hat, bringing the microphone close to her face.

“As of tonight, the temperature of this month’s winter season will change from 8 degrees celsius to 6 degrees celsius–Along with a mild snowstorm in- [static]”

The channel switched the moment it lost signal, you hoped the snowstorm she was talking about won’t affect this town. Lowering the TV volume, you wondered what would happen to you if you denied Mr. Z’s offer. You’d die of hypothermia by now. You can’t afford to struggle in this piercing cold weather alone, you’re doing this for the sake of your family and your home.

A breeze of cool air brushed against the side of your face, and you shivered at the sensation. Looking to your right, you see your window slightly open. It welcomed the chilling breeze inside your comfy abode.

You might need to buy another lock again.

You stood up from the soft cushion and closed the window shut, keeping the cold wind away from your room.

You caught a glance of your snowy surroundings. Trees were drained of its leaves from the freezing temperature, leaving it in a lifeless, chilly state. Street lamps and stores gleamed with glowing LED lights, flickering with different vibrant colors, with holiday decors plastered on glass panels and brick walls.

There were families reunited and bonding together in joy, couples clinging to each other like a matching puzzle set—afraid of losing each other amidst the snow filled town.

You wonder what your friends are doing, especially this Christmas Eve. They must be hanging out with their families right now. Semester break will only last for a few days, so it's worth every minute of family time.

You wished you could visit them this year. At least before a load of schoolwork.

You looked at your Christmas tree, noticing a present beside it, wrapped in shiny blue paper with a little snowflake on it.

Crowe’s present.

He gave it to you the day before, knowing he can’t drop by and visit your apartment. It’s a shame he couldn’t be here.

Or atleast, the friend group, except Deryl–He knocked on your door and placed a small yellow box on the ground. He didn’t hesitate to snatch some snacks as well. You didn’t mind though, he seemed like he was in a hurry.

When will someone stay the night here and celebrate the holiday with you-

Buzz. Your phone vibrated and the screen lit up, getting your attention.

You walked to the sofa and picked your phone up, a notification displaying on your homescreen.

Sol: Yo, are you free right now?

You type in your phone’s password and reply to his message.

You: Yeah, why?

Not a minute has passed til he replied back.

Sol: I was thinking of offering holiday treats to you, as a Christmas gift. Do you want some?

You: Sure, I could really use a midnight snack later

Sol: Okay, See you at 11?

You: Yup, I’ll wait

You check the time on your phone, 10:21PM displayed on the top left of your screen.

Sitting back down on the sofa, you lean back and stare at the ceiling.

♡♡♡

“I bought the cookies you asked for-”

Sol almost flinched from his spot, placing a hand on his chest from the sudden intrusion. 

“What the hell-”

“Relax, it’s still warm.”

Hyugo carefully placed the winter themed box of cookies on the pack of snow, as Sol continued to spy on you behind the snowy bushes.��

Hyugo knew Sol had done this every night, just to ‘look after’ his so-called soulmate. Hiding in the bushes or behind trees, holding a pair of binoculars as you minded your own business inside your apartment,oblivious to the fact your stalker is watching your every move.

Heck, maybe even when you’re changing clothes. His perverted, obsessed self would LOVE to see that

But of course, he won’t admit that. 

Hyugo cleared his throat, earning Sol’s attention once more–as snowflakes drifted slowly, covering the bare trees with cold flurry.

“Are you going to sit there and wait for them to fall asleep?”

“Maybe” Sol’s lips curved into a lovestruck smile, his thoughts wandering to the times where you slept so peacefully. The times where you were unaware of your surroundings, free from the chaos of reality, though your unconscious state was only temporary. 

It was only a matter of time before you woke up, yet, Sol managed to visit you late at night. Knowing you were in a vulnerable state, he took it as a chance to make every minute intimate and memorable to him. Every lingering kiss, every brush of his fingers, tracing your warm skin, remained as a reminder of his devotion to you.

To him, you’re a deity

And he will worship you like a devoted follower, a hopeless servant willing to offer everything for even an ounce of your love.

Like a prayer answered from the heavens above.

Hyugo sighed as he grabbed the cookie box. Sol raised an eyebrow at this but shook his thoughts away.

“Should I give the cookies to them or-”

“No, I’ll do it.” Sol got onto his feet, determined to meet you this time around. He hoped to see the face he admired the most.

Even after seeing you plenty of times every night.

“Alright, I’ll head home. Take care.” Hyugo handed the box to Sol, snow crunching beneath him as he walked away.

“Wait, did you add the-” 

“Yes. I did.” Hyugo responded and he glared at Sol, warning him of what he might do–though he can’t help but support Sol with his obsession over you only because of the deal they made.

Sol nodded, watching his friend disappear from his view, while he held the box of lukewarm cookies.

Sol cursed under his breath, he didn’t want you to receive cold cookies by the time he arrived–but then again, you could always heat it up.

Sol walked up the stairs to your apartment, the steps creaking underneath him. His mind was clouded with imaginable scenarios of what could happen with you and him alone. You and him, alone, in your apartment.

Hah, you have no idea…

Standing in front of your door, he knocked on the hard wooden material. He heard the sound of your footsteps approaching as he stood there, waiting.

You twist the doorknob and open the door, greeted by the tall figure before you. 

He wore a black hoodie, soft and comfortable enough to keep him warm in this harsh, frigid weather. He held a box of cookies, noticing the holiday themed designs when you took a peek–as well as the brand logo plastered on the plastic front cover of the container. All too familiar with the brand, you realize it’s from one of the delicious bakeries you went to!

The nostalgic scent of vanilla and cinnamon, friendly workers and their signature cinnamon buns, served with a cup of hot coffee–it made you wonder, does Sol buy pastries there? Or did he guess it’s your favorite bakery?

Whatever the answer is, you’re glad he bought you cookies from the bakery you love.

“Are these… from the Downtown Cinnamon cafe?” You asked, confirming your suspicion.

“Yes, I thought you would like it,” he replied with a soft smile, a faint blush forming on his cheeks.

“Like it? I love it! Thank you Sol” You smiled as you accepted the offer. “Please, come in”

Sol stepped into your house and closed the door behind him, examining the place. Wreaths, vibrant lights, cute reindeer stockings, all displayed on the walls. The faint smell of cozy vanilla and inaudible noises from the TV filled the room.

“Wow, you really put in the effort,” he commented, acting surprised at your winter themed decorations.

As if he hasn’t been spying on you for a while.

He’s seen you hang those bright string lights on your Christmas tree the day before Christmas eve, and when you bought the stockings from a nearby shop that costs less than $5.

“Do you want some hot chocolate? You must be shivering right now.”

“I’d love that,” Sol replied, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. 

As delusional it may sound, he will definitely appreciate a cup of hot chocolate, mainly because you made it yourself.

If it reminds him of you, he’ll happily take it.

If only something eventually reminded you of him too… 

You nodded and headed to the kitchen while Sol sat down on the sofa, the box of cookies set on the coffee table.

You place a kettle, half filled with water, on the lit stove, waiting for it to boil.

As soon as it whistles, you twist the knob off. 

You placed a black mug on the counter, grabbing a packet of hot chocolate powder and a pair of scissors, cutting a straight line across the plastic cover of the packet. You pour all of the packet’s powdery content into the empty mug, discarding the plastic after.

You fill the mug with hot water, combining the chocolate powder with it as it steams. 

You return to the living room, holding a small tray with a mug of hot chocolate with a spoon and a jar of soft marshmallows. 

“You can add marshmallows if you want,” You smiled as you placed the tray on the coffee table. Sol nodded at the suggestion, opening the jar of marshmallows and putting 2 of them in the drink, making a plop.

As you were about to sit beside him, you noticed something missing under the Christmas tree… wait, there’s one gift missing…

Rising up from your seat, you approach your Christmas tree and inspect it, and to your surprise, Crowe’s gift is missing.

“Uh… Sol, have you seen a square shaped present wrapped in a blue wrapper?” You asked as you began to search for it, failing to catch sight of the scowl on his face.

“No, I haven’t,” Sol replied, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. 

You cursed under your breath. You knew it was just under the tree, you didn’t move it somewhere else. 

Maybe you actually placed it somewhere else, it’s getting late already, but….

How will Crowe react when you tell him you lost his gift?

Letting out a sigh, you sat down beside him once more and glanced at the clock. It displayed 11:47PM, and you realize there’s still 13 minutes before Christmas. 

And you get to celebrate it with Sol.

“It’s almost time,” You uttered, gaining Sol’s attention as the scowl on his face disappeared, now displaying his calm facade. 

He looked at the clock, 11:49PM shown on the clock. He smiled, at the thought of celebrating the holidays with you. Looking back at his hot chocolate, he took another sip.

Suddenly, your stomach growled, only then you realized you didn’t eat properly for dinner. You were too busy with the decorations and sleeping the whole day, you didn’t have time to eat that much. Or maybe you just don’t feel like eating.

Whether you slept or slacked off whatsoever, you have to eat now. 

Good thing Sol brought those cookies.

You lean forward and open the lid of the box, the tasty smell of cinnamon from snickerdoodle cookies makes you want to eat it all. 

“It smells so delicious!” You exclaimed in delight as you grabbed a portion, taking a small bite. And you swore it’s one of the greatest cookies you’ve ever tasted.

You never knew they made the cookies this good, especially as a holiday treat. It melted in your mouth smoothly, tasting the vanilla and cinnamon as you chewed it into bits. It filled your tastebuds with delight.

Sadly it will disappear once Christmas is over.

Sol looked at you in a way he was surprised at your reaction, enjoying the taste of the cookies he bought for you. 

Thank goodness you like it…

Bet you’ll love what’s next…

“Is it good?” He asked and drank his hot chocolate halfway. He looked at you expectantly, as if he was waiting for either your response or for you to eat more of those cookies. 

You nodded, swallowing the melted cookie. A friendly smile was plastered on his lips, “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” 

The clock ticked till 11:54PM, a few more minutes until Christmas.

You grab another portion, and another one, enjoying the delicacy a bit too much. It just tasted so so good, and you weren't skilled enough to bake something like this. Something so sweet and tasty.

“Hey, save some for me,” Sol chuckled as he grabbed one for himself, taking a bite and letting out a satisfied hum.

By 11:58PM, the box was left empty as well as the mug of his hot chocolate. You licked your lips to gather any leftover crumbs around your mouth. Looking at the box, you can’t believe you actually ate it all.

“Damn, I’m so full,” You commented, overwhelmed by how appetizing the cookies are.

“Yeah, same,” Sol replied, often glancing at the clock every few seconds. 11:59PM.

“Are you sure you won’t go home yet? You keep looking at the time-”

“Yeah, I’m sure, I just need to… do something…” 

“Do what?” You looked at him confused, until a sudden gush of warmth fueled your body, putting you in a relaxed state as your muscles loosened.

Strange, it’s so hot here…

“Mmh… I feel a bit weird right now…” you said as you leaned back on the couch, letting the soft cushion absorb you. 

You can’t help but feel… excitement.

Heat coursed through your core, burning with lust. A strong sense of wanting to be satisfied, thirsty for intimacy. Your heart rate rapidly increased every second.

49…

“Are you okay? You look like you're in a haze there…” Sol asked as he scooted closer, reaching a hand out to check if you’re on the right mind. 

It must be something I drank- no, maybe it was the cookies… You thought, as you began to crave fulfilling your desires. But not in front of Sol, at least not now.

43…

“Y-Yeah, I-Im fine…” You managed to stutter, grasping the soft material of the sofa cushion with your hands.

“Are you sure-”

40…

“I-I feel… so… fuck…” You tighten your fists on the cushion. Wild, inappropriate thoughts ran around your disoriented mind.

Sol looked at you with a sly smile, “what do you feel, pumpkin?”

36…

“I-I don’t know,” you replied as you felt your arousal growing. A feeling of your crotch yearning to be touched. A feeling resulting in risking your own purity. 

You look at Sol, his red-orange irises locking onto yours. 

When did he look so fucking… attractive…?

31…

“You seem a little dizzy there,” He said as his warm breath hit your ear, his face ever so slightly close to you.

29…

“Do you need help letting it all out, darling?”

27…

You shook your head, “N-No, I-” 

He cuts you off, “You’re unusually hot.”

He brushes the back of his hand on your cheek lightly, warmth coming into contact with his hand.

The effect is working.

Seems like he doesn’t need to add any more substances.

23…

You gulped and gazed at his lips, fuck, why does it look tempting?

Whatever it is, it feels so thrilling.

It makes you feel so alive, so eager, so inclined to just kiss him right here right now.

But it feels so wrong…

Sol noticed your focus on his lips, a chuckle escaped his mouth. He loved the way you were reacting right now, like he planned it all out. He planned all of this just to give you more of his undivided love.

And why care if the neighbors heard you and him?

“What are you looking at, pumpkin-”

Suddenly, you clutched both of his wrists and pinned him down above the sofa, as it let out a squeak.

Sol’s eyes widened at the sudden move, but his reaction quickly turned into lust. He was longing for this just as you are.

He has been waiting for this reaction from you. 

It’s almost unbelievable how a fine amount of aphrodisiac can affect you, and most especially, your own body.

14…

“Oh darling, you have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting this,” Sol confessed with lovestruck and lustful admiration. The tent in his pants was almost evident as he locked eye contact with you.

“You’re practically aching for me aren’t you?” He whispered in your ear seductively.

10…

“Maybe…” You replied back and leaned closer, your body roughly touching against his–yet, you desire to feel all of him.

8…

“Maybe?” He raised a brow, smirking at your response. He has full control on you, despite your conscious yet hazy state, the effects will last for a while. After all, he wanted to make this as special as possible.

A blush crept up to your face, lost in the thought of his lips meeting yours. The very thought of it made you turned on-

4…

You held both sides of his face, letting his bound wrists free as you pressed your lips against his. He feels how desperate you are for this, how you’ve been craving him ever since the drug affected you. He wanted this too. 

3…

He yearned for this, he yearned to claim his soulmate’s lips as his–but when will you realize? When will you finally realize you’re bound to him by soul…?

For now, he will take advantage of your vulnerable, needy state.

2…

His hand ran through your locks and pulled your head closer, deepening the kiss. His heart pounded against his ribs, feeling your rapid heartbeat as well. Overjoyed by the sensation of your lips, he slid his free hand underneath your shirt.

1…

Breaking the kiss, he whispered, “Happy holidays, pumpkin.”

0…

Before you could react, your shirt is lifted over your torso.

♡♡♡

Imagine what happens next lmao

[justthemoonz]

"S-she sees right through you... How!?"

For the "A Loop For The Ride" AU, I imagine that once Loop and their "friends' reach a proper point in starting a new adventure, depending on what area is chosen, the person who lives in that location will see through Loop's disguise, and realize it wasn't actually Siffrin, before the world loops back to right as soon as Loop kills Siffrin Also, a bit of writing in "Keep Reading" for this scene, since this would be the first spot that the party decides to go to (it's a forced event, on the second loop, however, Loop would get to pick different spots) (Gets a little heavy near the end, so be warned)

* (You and your friends have almost made it to Ka Bue.) (It has been an insanely long time for you and the others to get here.) (Days? Maybe even weeks? You lost track.) (You wonder if The Researcher... If Madame Odile is excited to be back to where she came from.) "Looks like you've finally hit land." Odile: We're here. Odile: Welcome to Ka Bue. Isabeau: I can't believe we've finally made it! Bonnie: I was getting really tired on that boat. Bonnie: There was nothing to look at but water! Mirabelle: ... O-oh, we're here? Mirabelle: Thank Change... Isabeau: Are you okay, Mira? You looked sick during the entire journey. Mirabelle: I'm fine! I've just... never travelled on a boat for such a long period of time. Mirabelle: I guess I got seasick. Bonnie: I bet your puke is full of glitter. Mirabelle: H-HUH!? Isabeau: Pfffff... (You and Isabeau begin to laugh.) (Odile seems to be patiently waiting for everyone else to get off the boat first.) (You decide to get off the boat first.) "First one off!" Isabeau: Aw, no fair! Isabeau: Well, I guess I'll be the second one- (Bonnie gets off second.) Bonnie: Learn how to not say your thoughts out loud, you crab! Isabeau: ... (Isabeau looks at Mirabelle then back at Bonnie.) Isabeau: Well, I'll be the 4th one, then. Isabeau: After you, Mira. (Mirabelle gets off. Finally, Isabeau gets off too.) "Now you can get off too, Madame Odile!" Odile: About time. (Odile finally gets off.) Odile: Now that we're here, I guess we could begin with- (... Everything stops.) "...?" "O-Odile?" (Odile looks at you.) Odile: Loop...? "!!" Odile: ... Odile: What did you do to Siffrin. (S-she sees right through you... How!?) (Odile reaches towards you, but before she can do anything-) (CRACK.) (You stare at Siffrin. You've killed him once again.) (You looped back.) (YOU looped back.) (YOU... LOOPED... BACK?) (NO. NO. NOT THIS AGAIN.) (NOT AGAIN. NOT-) (...) (It's okay. you've dealt with something like this before.) (You've even helped someone with something like this!) (The person that you've killed twice now!) (... You just have to continue being Siffrin.) (And, somehow, you will find a way to break the loops, just like they did!) (And you will be happy. Happy with your friends.) (... It's time to bury the body again.) (Goodbye once more, stardust.)

[shippyo]

@kirbyoctournament

Introducing to you all,the only one and unique....

Personality

She is extremely calm, she never seems to be bothered by anything, she is kind as much as she can be capable of saying something cruel, like life itself is, she always seems patient, because for her anything is ephemeral, even herself, but she will always be open to a conversation, she will advise you and will try to give her point of view about herself, always in a respectful manner.

Powers

Life is ironically capable of taking life from other beings, to reincarnate them into a new being with her mere hands, usually looking like butterflies like her first daughter Morpho Knight.

She is capable to cast divine-looking lights,usually looks like a swarm of butterflies, although she won't attack in 99,9% of the times but the hundreds of her children will defend her.

Its mere presence is calming but its true form is unknown to common sense and if someone dared to see the beauty of life in its entirety, the impact it would have on your consciousness would be devastating, but with it, who knows, maybe it would be able to restore the unimaginable at the cost of resting for eons.

Life is capable of teleporting to any place in any universe, she never chooses a specific place, it enjoys walking and you can see her in the most beautiful fields of flowers or in the cruelest wars, you can consider yourself lucky to witness her, because it is practically a miracle.

And never mess with something beyond your comprehension cause only death can end all what she is.

Canon characters she knows or knows that exist

Morpho

Her first daughter, before it was a different being who arrived by unknown means to the dimension of Life, she begged her not to send her to the afterlife, she didn't want that, the pain was so inmense due to her cruel Life that she just begged to stop existing, life, on the other hand, did something different and used its power for the first time in what became a being, completely new and at peace,Morpho has an unbreakable loyalty towards the being she now calls "mother"

Necrodeus

"Someone I loved? Or do i still love?"

The void

A being from the void reemerges from the heart, all always in a different way like Kirby or Zero himself, as if they were children yet to determine their destiny inside their mother or heart in this case, Life does not know them directly, it only knows that they exist and for some reason, she loves them, she feels a maternal sensation as if all those beings had been part of her at some point, although she can't explain why.

Lore

[this part might not be that extense but cropping to not cluster everything,enjoy💖]

Once life was reborn, but before that, there was a life before, yes, a time when everything was different.

Once there was a woman in whom a new life was generated inside her, all on her wedding day on an now unknown place, butterflies fluttering, next to her pure white bone dress, walking towards who would be her husband, everything was complete happiness everything seemed to never end but...

At one point, when the husband was about to put the ring on the lady that would seal their love, something trembled and out of nowhere, everything broke into stardust, in the last seconds of pain and confusion, the lovers did not know that it was the end of everything known and unknown.

Life had died.

Or was it really like that?

Life woke up once again from...a dream? A nightmare? What was that even? Where was she now?

Is life really itself? She felt a pain that would gradually fade away along with the memory of what happened, at the same time another figure,the death itself also woke up where they were, they both looked at each other, they had never seen each other... like this?

But still they both felt a sense of nostalgia, something empty in them throbbed strongly, while memories of... themselves? or something that seemed like the they that they are now joined in their confused memories

" know you."

"But who were you?"

"Were we them? But who were we supposed to be?"

"Now, what are we?"

They both said, but neither could give an accurate answer.

And it didn't matter anymore.

A new everything emerged from nothing and they were part of that everything.

Life and death separated each one on their own for a long time searching, trying to know what they had to do, what it all meant, who those beings were.

until, one day after eons they met again to conclude that everything was nothing.

Nothing had meaning other than existing.

Nothing they could have experienced was eternal, they both came to the conclusion that everything would die to become a new whole again.

From their past memories they concluded that this was just a new phase in an eternal cycle without explanation, in which life would return only for death itself in its last seconds to kill her so that all of life would re-emerge as a new one when it was about to end and NEVER be the same as before.

And that couple, it may or may not have been them, it didn't matter, because they are no longer those entities and this will happen again and again, they are merely a new version of themselves of those they were and will be in the future.

It didn't make sense, nor did they both want that cruel fate, it's confusing, it's unfair,death even cried out of mere frustration.

But there was no escape, no being could escape it.

After this, now both beings try to find a filling for the void in their hearts, death wandering throught any universe and cursing "the all" for this meaninglessness, while life, still almost always remaining in her own dimension, a blank world that is in everywhere and nowhere, sometimes descends to any world that reaches the imagination wandering through them to perhaps find her own the meaning of life.

[prythianpages]

When She Loved Me | Love Witch

cassian x love witch reader | summary: The stars yearn for you to look up at them again.

warnings: angst/longing, mentions of death and losing loved ones

word count: 639

a/n: This piece was inspired by this ask and I just want to say thank you to that sweet anon for inspiring this! It is told by the POV of the Stars and gives a bit more insight into Love Witch's life and will lead into another part.

In the vast expanse of the night sky, they glitter and gleam like ancient sentinels of the universe. For eons, they have watched over the realms, whispering secrets of the cosmos to those who dare to listen. Among all the souls they’ve guided, was her.

The one born from fated love and cosmic hearts.

From the moment of her conception, they knew she was destined for greatness. Her essence intertwined with the very fabric of the stars. They watched as she grew over the years, loving her as much as she loved them. 

When she was sad they cried with her, twinkling in sympathetic sorrow. When she was lonely, they were there to comfort her and guide her with their light to the path back to brighter days. When she was happy, they’d glitter and streak across the sky, sharing her joy.

Her eyes, so often turned skyward, reflected their light.  And in those moments, the stars felt so complete. Because she was their child, their beloved.

The one who could dance with the constellations and speak the language of the universe.

But darkness, insidious and cruel, crept into Prythian.

It stole away her parents. The ones who held her hand as a child as she gazed at their splendor, the ones who taught her to love them. Grief was a darkness of its own. It wrapped itself around her like a heavy blanket, its icy tendrils seeping into her heart.

She no longer looked up to the stars.

Every night, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the stars would awaken, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. They yearned to offer their comfort and guidance as they always did, especially during these painful times. But the love witch, once so open to their whispers, had drawn her curtains tight, shutting them out. 

She believed the stars had forsaken her.

Abandoned her and damned her with sorrow. Because if they loved her so much, why did they let such a cruel fate fall upon those she cherished most? Why would they allow her to hurt like this?

She did not know that though the stars were ever knowing and ever gleaming, even they had their limits. They could only guide. It was up to the observer to decide, for fate ultimately rests in the hands of those who dare to shape it.

They wanted to tell her this but she even locked away the earrings her parents gifted her on her first century birthday. The ones enchanted with their stardust, who loved to echo their compliments and advice. Their child, their beloved, had shut them out.

 And they, helpless in their distant brilliance, could do nothing but wait and hope.

Oh, how the stars longed to reach her, to tell her that they had not turned away, that they ached to show her the path back to brightness. Each twinkle, each shimmer, was a plea for her to look up, to remember the love and light they shared.

But she remained cloaked in her darkness, unaware of their vigil.

There were nights when her dreams were troubled, and they painted the sky with brilliant constellations, each one a story of hope and resilience. Yet, she never saw them, her curtains a barrier too thick for their light to penetrate.

Time passed, and they watched over her, their sweet love witch, with unwavering devotion. They knew that one day, she might look up again. 

One day, she might remember that they were there, waiting.

And so, they continued to shine, their light unwavering, their love eternal. For they are her guardians, her stars, and they will wait for however long it takes.

One day, the curtains will be drawn. One day, she will see the light and know that she has never been alone.

And when she finally welcomes them back to her life, they’ll make sure she never succumbs to that loneliness again.

a/n: This was originally going to be attached to Love Witch's reaction/POV from the tarot reading but I liked the idea of it standing alone.

series masterlist

series taglist: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon, @talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning, @anuttellaa, @breadsticks2004

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection - Day 24: Childhood Friends

For Evermore | @casblackfeathers Rating: Explicit Word Count: 110,572 Main Tags/Warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, reunion, angst with a happy ending, pining!dean, pining!castiel, bottom!dean, bottom!castiel, fluff, domestic, single parent!dean, misunderstandings, jealous!dean, jealous!castiel Summary: There's no place like home. This was a line Castiel used to know by heart when he was a kid, watching The Wizard of Oz and believing fairytales were real. At thirty-one years old, he isn't a kid anymore, and it has been twelve years since he has known what home feels like. Twelve years. That's when his world had come crashing down and he had left his hometown, Holly Springs, with the broken pieces of what he once was to build a new life in San Francisco. But as circumstances force him to come back to the only place he swore he would never return to, Castiel is finally forced to face everything he once knew and loved. Especially when said everything is made of spring-green eyes and a stardust of freckles, wrapped in all the memories Castiel was not able to erase from his heart. After twelve years, Dean is as mesmerizing as Castiel remembers, but the scars of what was broken still run as deeply as the marrow of his bones, and Castiel will do everything he can to protect himself. After all, his favorite movie also taught him that 'until hearts can be made unbreakable,' he can’t listen to his own.

Master of My Fate | @friendofcarlotta Rating: Explicit Word Count: 88,401 Main Tags/Warnings: Pirates, 1600s, Mutual Pining, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Top Cas/Bottom Dean, Top Dean/Bottom Cas, Depictions of Slavery Summary: Jamaica, the late 1600s: Castiel Milton is the son of a wealthy plantation owner. He is also a profound disappointment to his father, who has disinherited him in favor of his younger brother. Now, only one responsibility remains for Castiel: make an advantageous marriage to carry on the Milton name. Castiel’s life changes forever the day he discovers that Dean Winchester, a long-lost childhood friend, is now a notorious pirate. Castiel conceives of a desperate plan that he hopes will prevent an arranged marriage he doesn't want. But when he meets Dean again, he's far from prepared for the passion — and adventure — that will ensue.

Searching For Family, Finding Home | @ravenfuchs Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 21,937 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe- Western, Childhood friends, Separation, Reunion, Orphan trains, Friends to lovers Summary: Growing up on the streets of 1867 New York City playing cowboys with his best friend Cas and baby brother Sammy, thirteen year old Dean Winchester never imagined that the three boys would be sent out West on one of the orphan trains to be placed with new families. Dean and Cas, knowing they will likely be separated, vow to one day find one another and Sammy. The two older boys exchange bandannas lovingly made for them by Mary Winchester. When Dean turns eighteen he sets out to find the family he lost and bring them home - no matter who tries to stand in his way.

The Moonlight Rule | @thefandomsinhalor Rating: Explicit Word Count: 129,321 Main Tags/Warnings: Farm/Ranch AU, Marriage of Convenience, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Home Invasion, Trauma, Sharing a Bed, Top Cas/Bottom Dean Summary: Castiel Novak loves living in Manhattan and feels like he has finally reached a more serene part of his life. After years of hard work at The Lazarus, a boutique luxury hotel, a career opportunity he’s been waiting a long time for presents itself. At last, his problems are behind him. That is until he randomly encounters Henry Winchester, the grandfather of his childhood friend, Dean. Castiel and Dean haven’t seen each other in over ten years. Not since Castiel’s parents stopped visiting the Winchester family ranch. Left somewhat contemplative by this blast from the past encounter, Castiel is then altogether shaken by it when he hears a week later of the sudden passing of Mr. Winchester, as well as the surprising repercussions that come along with it. It seems that their recent and unexpected run-in inspired the late Mr. Winchester to make last minute changes in his will: Dean will only inherit the ranch he’s been running if he marries Castiel and stays married for at least six months.

The Royally Unexpected Jollification of Two Princes | @thefandomsinhalor Rating: General Word Count: 6,096 Main Tags/Warnings: Royalty AU, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Meg/Castiel (temporary) Summary: Prince Dean has a lot of feelings to sort out when he hears the unexpected news that best friend Prince Castiel is engaged. Unsure if he’s upset about not having been told the news by his own friend—or perhaps because of another elusive reason—he plans on clarifying the situation. Good thing his friend is set to arrive at the castle on that very afternoon, unaware that an important discussion is awaiting him.

teach me how to love | @vampdeans (twitter) Rating: Mature Word Count: 29,848 Main Tags/Warnings: Childhood friends to lovers, disabled deancas, whump, bigender dean winchester Summary: Dean never thought of himself as someone capable of doing big things. He’s the sick and frail kid of the family, people rarely take him seriously. It’s fine, really. Dean can handle the life long pain and the stares of his family every time the pain flares get the best of him. He’s glad, at least, that he has a best friend who allows him to dream. — Dean lives with fibromyalgia since he was little, he’d always been the weird kid in school, standing out like a sore thumb, until Cas — the kid with a prosthetic arm and a killing smile — came along. The weight of the world is a little less heavy when they’re together.

[thearchivistsletterbox]

teletē

WELCOME, THE THRICE HAPPY! A REFUGE OF SHORTER DAYS FOR LONGER NIGHTS. GONE ARE THE DAYS OF LIVING TO SUFFER—NOW WE SUFFER TO LIVE.

graffiti is scrawled underneath the final part of the inscription:

THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?

and its reply:

            DO NOT DISRESPECT OUR SANCTUARY!

And thus followed sanctuary, as far as the eye can see. Lights. Lights underscoring this scene of pure bliss, a dizzy beautiful haze of movement and rhythm and dance and wild, unadulterated joy. A vibrant scene of colours—purple, red, gold, blue, green—otherwise discordant in rigid singularity, are beauty incarnate once washed together.

The sanctuary is coated in ribbons and robes, winding to fit the aviary-like roof dressed in floating lights, flashing neon. The floors, the walls, they are stagnant, yet they feel ever-moving in a swaying ebb and flow. Enough to make non-initiates nauseous.

Cries of song burst forth from within. Ecstatic screams celebrate each breath taken in their sanctuary as drunken dancers interlock arms and spin ‘til vertigo takes them. Women of every cloth shout praises, never stopping even when their throats run dry. Men and other parties comprise a smaller faction, though no less virile and wildly enthusiastic as their female counterparts. Falling is all too common, but all those who fall stand again, and they stand to the cheers of their friends as they return to the unflinching, maddening reverie. 

Clear golden liquid spills from followers mouths, onto the red marble floor, in and out of orifices the polite public would rather die than name. The liquor stains add to the ambience, they say; it’s a party to die for!

Amongst it, a girl with an Orphic poet’s heart beating strong in her chest, imbued by the ambitions alcohol so gracelessly grants, stands as straight as she can atop a stage altar. She scratches her fingertips along the strings of her guitar, the instrument almost crackling with lightning. Sparks the colour of the sun itself fly out as she plays. Arms—peach, olive, brown, all sticky with gold—outstretch in awe of the muse before them.

  “Then a hornèd God was found,

    And a God with serpents crowned;

    And for that are serpents wound

        In the wands his maidens bear,

    And the songs of serpents sound

        In the mazes of their hair!”

She sings like it hurts her throat to speak, in a language none but the pit could understand, but she sings like a goddamn goddess. Freemen would sell their arms for her voice any day, and she’s racked up a lot of adoring fans with her electric style and music that melded minds into something listless and sick with passion. Her symphonic story rang throughout the whole building, inspiring festivity upon festivity, drink upon drink.

Gold leaves and metal pinecone scraps fall to the floor, lost in the motions above. Everyone is one and nothing is no more, fear long since drowned in rivers of wine. The speakers pulse like heartbeats and lights dazzle like neon eyes. If the partiers choke on stardust, they thank the night sky as its radiance looks down on them all.

  “And sets them leaping as he sings,

    His tresses rippling to the sky,

    And deep beneath the Maenad cry

        His proud voice rings:

          ‘Come, O Bacchae, come!’”

Something breaks the mist. The bursts of colour, sound, emotion, swells and hits a wall of difference once something new arrives. A person, you, brandishing an orange uniform like it’s anything to be proud of, pushes past a transparent veil, then into the central hall. 

The lights are an assault on your senses. The music threatens to rupture your eardrums. The alcohol stains everywhere are sickness incarnate. Only the mad would enjoy this, you snark.

You move across the scene, an intruder in paradise. Nobody pays you any mind, why should they? One sour mood doesn’t dull an entire celebration of ecstasy itself! Fate is beautiful because it has its own ways of weaving the world. Death and life, rising and falling, celebrating and mourning, such is the way of the world. In the partiers’ frenetic stupor, they don’t find themselves noticing the other that had crawled into their sacred banquet. Dancers let their limbs twist and interlock ‘til they have no distinguishing features between them, laughing like stuffed hyenas, singers screaming their melodies between swigs of liquor, all to the newcomer’s abject disgust. O, but judgement is wise and fierce.

the Orphic girl continues her song;

“Smite till the throat shall bleed!”

as you crest the middle of the hall, weaving in and out of the thrills of the elated. together, they drag a half-shorn goat to the top of an altar.

         “Smite till the heart shall bleed!”

the gold-plated glint of a badge flickers upon your waist as your eyes dart in search of their target. the mass of merriment scream some more, adding their pile of voices to the song. a different melody, the cry of the goat.

  “Him the tyrannous, lawless, Godless, 

Echîon’s earth-born seed!”

so fixated that you fail to notice a silk-gloved hand seize your shoulder.

A smile meets you, the intruder. A friendly inclination, perhaps, but not much else. An older man, he stands taller than everyone else, even with his gait misaligned from excessive drink. Clad in beauty itself—grand animal skins, leather jackets and belts, shimmering gold that puts the sun to shame—his meagre smile doesn’t meet his eyes; a previous passive, cloudy look of subtle joy now so sharp.

His grip tightens, his smile a thin line.

“I didn’t know we had a pig for slaughter tonight,” he says, with a voice smoother than the wine in his free hand. 

If you were to have a weaker will, you may find yourself completely taken by this man. A soft-spoken beauty was about him; a flowing brown-grey beard with hair to match; a sharp, stocky frame; and well-groomed with such a commanding air. You struggle not to take a knee at the mere sight of him.

“Ah! Mr Caduceus, I–er…” you sputter in his holy presence.

The man, Caduceus, focuses his gaze. Gone is any prior jubilant display. He does not move his hand.

“Is it me you seek?”

you go to reply, but the horns of the bull pierce deep, and you have no time to—

“I thought the police knew better than to impede on sanctuary.” Caduceus spares a glance across the floor, meeting eyes with another—too far away for you to see—who then darts to a corner, out of sight.

“Yes, well, I, um…”

you also run your eyes around the room. nobody stands out, but your search’s fruition is within their grasp.

“There’s–there’s no better place to find you, sir. You and…”

you search for someone who is no longer there.

“Well,” you continue, “my precinct is interested in the whereabouts of a missing person.”

Caduceus quirks an eyebrow, and takes a swig. “You mean to tell me you think anyone you’ll find here wants to be found?”

“My captain has reason to suspect they’ve ended up a part of your…”

You regard him closely, the unforgivable trace of alcohol and quietly brazen certainty lingering like a wound upon him. There is a guitar pick nursed between two golden hoops on his side. Your eyes skirt around once more.

“... organisation,” you say.

Caduceus lets out a laugh at this. The sound is deep and rolls like waves of crimson wine, he grasps his stomach. A honey smell trapses among dancers, moving from corner to corner.

“Oh!” he catches his breath, “What a word! I would call it surprising, but, well… that’s just the sort of thing your people say, isn’t it? That’s cute…”

“Yea, the wild ivy lapt him, and the doomed

Wild Bull of Sacrifice before him loomed!”

and that gloved hand winds its way to your throat.

“Who is it you seek? Amalia? Heilyn? Elisavet? Charis? Are any of those people people to you, or are they names? Faces in a crowd? Writing on the wall, and a photo for the coroners?”

the dancers do not yield. you choke. Caduceus pauses in reflection, his voice low with the rasp of wine.

“It’s Ori, isn’t it? The little singer.”

her melody is relentless.

   “O hounds raging and blind,

            Up by the mountain road,

          Sprites of the maddened mind,

            To the wild Maids of God;

          Fill with your rage their eyes,

            Rage at the rage unblest,

          Watching in woman’s guise,

         The spy upon God’s Possessed!”

You are released. Breath escapes you still, but you swallow deep, eyes fixed on the singer. Ori has to be some nickname the flock had given her, but yes, this is her. She had been pronounced missing after her perfect romance turned sour; the death of one, the disappearance of the other. And artists are always dramatic like that, so only the gods could know what the heartbroken songbird ran off to do.

Her knuckles bleed across guitar strings. As you look closer, you see scars that run up and down her arms like dripping stains. She’s slurring, but only when she speaks normally—her song is a grounding sensation.

“She came to us, hands bloody, face wet with tears, wracked with sights of her lost beloved, and nowhere else to go. No other god heeded her prayers once her songs turned to melancholy.” Caduceus sighs, a unique hatred passing him when he regards you once more. “They didn’t see how tragic her loss was, because, I think, they have never had what she lost. That love; tender and absolute, the hot taste of flesh in embrace, a song gilded by romance’s warmth… the rest of this world is deaf to it.”

The goat cries. 

Blood fills its lungs, caressing the sides of its inner tissue just as a painter coats a canvas in crimson. 

The goat writhes in agony abject. They slit its throat.

Caduceus turns his head to it. No god answers the animal’s pleas. The acme of its pain is not silenced, it is embraced. At the centre of it, a young man—dressed finely in silk and blood, laced with purple flowers, smelling of honey and speaking in tongues with a devilish grin—locks eyes with Caduceus. Then you. He rolls his eyes, smile tapering. With a sweeping bow parallel to a dance, he rises, leaving the rest of the crowd to rend the goat limb from limb, everyone tearing, splitting, dismembering, and finally feasting. Between the sound of a thousand frenzied mouths indulging themselves, the song does not pause.

         “A strait pitiless mind

            Is death unto godliness;

          And to feel in human kind

            Life, and a pain the less!”

Caduceus grips his drink and takes a swig so deep you are certain the alcohol has invaded his lungs. He does not flinch however, letting his drunken swaying appear more graceful rather than the usual junkie display, as you would usually call it.

“You know,” he grabs you by the shoulder, leading you away from the crowds and into a corner, “I don’t understand your type.”

You squirm. “You needn’t understand. Just do as I say.”

“Oh, you’ve decided to be bold now?” He snorts, then lets his voice drop lower, “I’d like that more if the uniform didn’t come attached.”

You quite nearly jump out of their skin. A gasp escapes you as you maneuver out of his grasp, pulling away from his hand; unsteady but horribly tight. He doesn’t put up much a fight, until you drop the pretenses, pulling out your gun—

and something cold and sharp pierces something else.

a blade that spins and spins and spins within itself, three spiral edges, serrated and glowing in a vein-like pattern.

that knife meets flesh. through the back, scratching against bones as it settles within a body.

you find yourself knowing only pain. the kind of pain you don’t recover from. never.

“Got ‘em.” a voice echoes from behind. “Someone thinks they’re so slick, don’t they?”

the guitar silences.

“Now it’s a party!” the Orphic singer slurs. “What, lookin’ for me?”

“They are,” Caduceus answers, “but don’t fear, Ori.”

“We’ll deal wit’ them. Keep the music going, girl! Play that new one!” the hidden voice says.

Ori smiles with a sun’s brightness and begins her song again, letting the crowd—who hadn’t cared to notice the scuffle—jump right back into their celebration. The guitar whistles ‘til it screeches—she offers no pause. You feel wine-laden breath on the back of their neck. That young man at the altar. He rips the knife away, leaving you to give half a scream as the music picks up once more.

“Now I come to Hellas—having taught

All the world else my dances and my rite

Of mysteries, to show me in men’s sight

Manifest God.

                And first of Hellene lands,

I cry thus Thebes to waken; set her hands

To clasp my wand, mine ivied javelin,

And round her shoulders hang my wild fawn-skin.”

She doesn’t sing the reverence of a god any longer. She sings as if it is her who is god. Her presence steals away all attention, and the partygoers care not for the assault that plagues their halls. You are a coiled mess on the floor, choking on your own pain.

“Officer, this is Calixte,” Caduceus says, “I take it you wanted the both of us?”

Of course, you grimace, this cult isn’t run by just one person.

“I’m the face of the show!” Though you cannot see them, you can hear the smirk in his voice. Calixte’s voice is sweeter than his counterpart, if twice as conniving. “And I’ve been told someone’s tryna kidnap our performers?”

You wince, squeezing out words of defence, 

not kidnap, save.

you abducted them, not us.

i’m arresting the both of you.

sick freaks.

yet no words escape you.

“Am I so terrifying you can’t talk?” Calixte grins, holding the back of one hand over his mouth in case he laughs. “Or are you so weak one measly stab wound is enough to wreck your shit?”

there is blood where no blood should be. it replaces oxygen. it is everywhere.

everything.

Calixte seizes you. His frame is wire-thin and his hold on you is ever-tight, yet lingering with the stick and smell of ambrosia.

“We are the children, the daughters and sons of revelry.”

Hatred’s look glimmers between the eyes of both men as Caduceus speaks. You are knocked to the floor again, and Calixte presses the cold leather of his boot into your back.

He catches light. Caduceus steps away.

“We hafta protect our sisters, our brothers. It’s people like you that come between it. And Cad and I?”

the boot presses deeper.

“We don’t fuck around with pigskin.”

drawn again, you feel the tip of the knife press into the back of your neck.

No words are needed for what comes next—their reputation is known wide and close, far and brief. And so, it happens. The music underscores the scream that escapes you again. You feel skin being torn, pulled taught, and there is nothing else you can do to stay alive, as a swarm of drunken parasites pick you clean.

this story is not about you. you, some police officer, guided by the long arm of the law, crushed under the short fingertips of madness.

this story is about the halls, so tall the roofs kiss the sky; it is about the songs she sings that hurt her throat and heart; it is about the wine classes two men clink together as their disciples lay at rest; it is about those disciples, fearing the hateful world, turning to the place where they may pretend they have excess. further still, this story is not about the people within. it’s about the ambrosia. the escape.

you had a family. this story is not about them either.

“There be many shapes of mystery.

    And many things God makes to be,

        Past hope or fear.

    And the end men looked for cometh not,

    And a path is there where no man thought.

        So hath it fallen here.”

you will not be reborn. your flesh is eaten raw. omophagia.

you

will not be

reborn.

[delfiore]

—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY (5/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: barcelona sets its sights on the champions league; things between you and ona unfold in the way they were always going to.

word count: 5.9k

a/n: LAST PART LAST PART WOOOO ALSO THIS GIF IS KILLING ME

PART I, PART II, PART III, PART IV

Barcelona won its first game back from winter break. It wasn’t the first one this season, but everyone was glad the team managed to hold onto the momentum over break. Though you didn’t score, you felt like you started to understand how to pass, how to move, how to bring the ball forward effectively the Barça way.

Things were finally starting to look up for you at your new club.

In training one day, you were paired up with Aitana for a short passing drill, and she quickly took the opportunity to inquire about you and Ona.

“No.”

“What?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“¿¡Por qué no?!” Aitana exclaimed, earning a few turns of heads from several teammates around. “I was the one to tell you to say something, no?”

You blew raspberry and looked down at the ball rolling between your feet. In truth, you haven’t talked to Ona about that night. Unlike the last time, though, there wasn’t an air of animosity around it. You wanted to kiss her really badly, but you also knew starting something then wasn’t the best idea. You and her both needed to concentrate on getting the team through this slump, and it was more crucial than ever that you did.

“You make it really hard for me, you know that?” You had told her, a quiet confession.

You remembered her smiling. “You don’t make it easy for me either. Every time I see you, I try so hard not to pull you to me and kiss you.”

You chuckled and dropped your head, hiding the warmth creeping up your neck. “Well, try harder.” You brushed her nose with the tip of your finger and stood up. “Our team needs us. We can’t . . . be distracted.”

“Can’t we be selfish just once?” Her tone was light and teasing, but when she leaned back against the bed, there was a darker sincerity in her eyes. Her elbows supported her weight, as her toned legs dangled off the bed. You had almost scoffed at how good she looked, and how much you wanted to pounce on her.

Swiftly, you snatched a pillow and threw it at her, earning an offended gasp from the girl. You watched her face shift, then, when you leaned down and kissed her cheek. Pulling back, you smirked. “Happy?”

Grabbing your pajamas which were draped over a chair, you quickly got out of the room and headed to the shower where, under the running water, you repeatedly told yourself to snap out of it. That night, you still fell asleep in the same bed as her. In the morning, your head was nuzzled in her neck, and your arm wrapped firmly around her waist.

You asked how long she had been staring at you, watching you sleep. Ona couldn’t resist a smirk, telling you she didn’t want to wake you up.

You had hoped she couldn’t feel how fast your heart was beating, but then again your chest was pressed into her side. You felt the overwhelming urge to pull away, alarm bells ringing in your head to sober up from your slumber and pull away. You were controlled by an invisible fear. In all of your nightly interactions with the many people that have warmed your bed, you had never felt so vulnerable than in that moment before, or since.

You could see her freckles so clearly from here. There were plenty, like a constellation of stars, but the only difference was you would lay there and count each and every one of them. Slowly, you brushed the pad of your thumb over them, and she let you, closing her eyes.

“Stardust,” you whispered quietly, feeling her skin under your finger.

Ona’s heart burned like a thousand fires watching you as you admired her, three heavy words weighing down on the tip of her tongue.

They went unsaid when you got up to go brush your teeth, over the table at breakfast, when her mom hugged you both goodbye and even when she dropped you off at your place a few hours later.

The team was playing away in Valencia on Saturday night. Right after that, on Wednesday, you would be playing the second Champions League quarterfinal leg in London. It was going to be a stressful week, but you needed to get your head in it because this week would determine the rest of the season in the league and in the prestigious European competition.

When Valencia led 1-0 at halftime, the more the clock ran out the more the team was desperate to win, or at least get a point back.

Alexia was holding the ball, as everyone moved over to Valencia’s side of the pitch; the latter was now only concerned with defending their three points. You waited for the defenders around to get distracted and made a run for it. Fridolina received the ball and fed it to you, but the angle was too narrow and the ball bounced off the net.

Chances were coming, and you were getting much closer to an equalizer.

A corner ensued, and you were at the near-post. The ball was sent in straight towards the goalkeeper, but you thought you could manage it. The goalkeeper was beelining for the ball and headed straight towards you with her fists out ready to punch the ball away, but you were faster. 1-1.

The adrenaline rushed to your head as you ran to celebrate with your teammates.

Only when the ball was rolling again did you feel lightheaded, and were on the ground before you knew it. The referee’s whistle rang out, and several of her teammates rushed over to you, as did Ona.

She saw the way your steps slowed as you were walking back to the middle, your head hung low. The way you fell to the ground, Ona could only compare it to a jet running out of fuel and free-falling. It was as if your legs gave out under you.

“Y/N? Joder, Y/N. Fisio!” She knelt beside you, yelling to the sidelines.

Thankfully, you were able to move, turning to your side, and hiding your face in the grass.

“It’s okay, Y/N. They’re coming,” Ona breathed heavily and squeezed your shoulder.

You have had collisions that knocked the air out of you before, but this time you knew it was much more severe than that. You suddenly didn’t quite know where you were, or why all these people were gathering around and peering down at you. All you knew was there was one face that made it all okay, one that you reached for and never wanted to let go.

There were physios coming to check the reflexes in your eyes; you were fine, it was just really, really bright. You were helped to sit up, seeing stars as you did, like cartoon characters when they suffer concussions. You looked over to that beautiful face, the one that appeared in your dreams like a plague, and you were okay. Though you didn’t know what was happening, Ona made you feel brave.

You regained clearheadedness after a few minutes, the symptoms had seemingly subsided. You signaled that you could continue (you really thought you could) but Esmee was already getting ready on the sideline to come in for you.

“Y/N, you did well today,” Ona approached you and wrapped her arm around your shoulder. “You were brilliant. We’ll take care of this.”

She said and gave you a kiss on the side of your head before sending you off with a pat on your back. You smiled gracefully at her and walked towards the bench. The unheard of happened then, as you made out applause ringing out from the Barcelona section of the stands, as people stood out and whistled for you.

You spent the rest of the game in the dressing room, watching the game from a TV. The lights had been dimmed for you to lessen the side effects of the concussion. When the rest of the team returned victorious, you cracked a smile. Your teammates surrounded you to check on your well-being, one in particular was the quickest to sit next to you.

“They clapped for me when I came off,” you said with a smile. “The fans.”

“Yes, they did,” Ona grasped your hand. “Because you deserved it.”

Barcelona came back from a deficit to win 3-2, earning a crucial three points in the title race.

“Arsenal is a very different team now than when we met them last, girls,” Jonatan stood at the front of the conference room. He played the next clip. “The one thing we’ll have to keep in mind is that they prefer passing and progressive carrying. They’ll have holding midfielders that will transition the formation from defending to attacking, so Williamson, Little, Wälti. Whoever that pivot player ends up being, if we cut her off on the high press, we cut off the supply going forward.”

As Coach was explaining tactics, you quietly turned around toward where Ona was sitting. The moment her gaze landed on you, the corner of her lips lifted. You mirrored her smile, and looked back at the projector, pulling your hoodie up past your lips to hide your cheeks heating up.

After the briefing, you walked towards the dining room to have lunch when your phone buzzed with a notification. You had just received an Instagram DM from an account that you hadn’t looked at in a long time, mainly because there would be nothing to see, as you were blocked.

Hi! I heard you’ll be in town this week for a game. Any chance we could go grab a coffee and chat? Sent 11:04am

“Hey, you coming to lunch?” Ona asked.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll be there in a second,” you said quickly and typed a reply.

On Tuesday, a couple of hours after you landed in London, you made your way towards the little café the address of which you had been sent. Just before entering the coffee shop, you exhaled sharply and wiped your palms on your pants before pulling the door open. Leena was already seated at a table, a cup in front of her.

“Hey,” you hugged her. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Y/N,” she wrapped her arms around you and squeezed you tightly. “You look good.”

You let out a snort. “Yeah, Barcelona tends to do that to ya.”

You sat on the opposite side of the table, after going to order a small coffee.

“I heard you got a concussion last game,” Leena asked, concerned.

“Oh, that.” You waved it off. “I’m fine. I’ve seen better days, but it’s all a part of it. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing good,” Leena smiled. “I . . . I had to step away to . . . put things into perspective.”

You nodded slowly and sighed. “Leena, the way I handled things, I’m just so deeply ashamed of it. I’m really sorry and I hope you can forgive me.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. I should have known better than to pursue someone who isn’t ready yet. I tend to do that.”

“Still, I mean . . . That’s not who I am, and I never meant to hurt you or lead you on like that.”

Quickly leaning forward to grasp your hand, she whispered, “It’s okay”. You nodded and smiled gratefully. Leena never made you feel less than whenever you bore your emotions to her, and it was no exception this time.

You started chatting about work, learning that Leena wanted to go back to school for a master’s in cinematography. You told her about your new club, and how much harder it was to live up to expectations than you thought. By the end of your little meeting, you had told her pretty much everything that was going on within the past year.

You said goodbye about an hour later, but not before asking if she wanted to come to the game the following night. “Sure,” she said. “Should be fun.”

Leaving the café with a smile, you called an Uber back to your hotel just in time for dinner with the team, where Ona was already waiting for you in the lobby.

“Hey,” you said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I was waiting for you.” The girl quickly ascended from her seat on the couch. “I texted but you didn’t answer, so I got worried.”

“Oh,” you pulled out your phone to see said unread messages from Ona. “I’m sorry. I was meeting up with a friend, and I usually put my phone on silent for stuff like that.”

“I see,” Ona chewed on her lower lip. “Well, it’s dinner time. Come.”

As you walked, you looked down at your joined hands that she nonchalantly initiated, and blushed. You ignored the knowing look a couple of your teammates sent your way when you walked into the hotel dining room.

“Hey, good luck out there today,” you found Ona in the dressing room before the game, and decided to offer your support.

“Thanks. Are you cleared to play today?”

“Yeah, later though. Just to be sure,” you explained.

Though you were cleared by the physios to travel to London with the team, Jonatan wanted to be sure that you weren’t overexerting yourself by playing the 90 minutes, but you were assured that you would be subbed on in the second half.

Ona nodded tentatively. “Hey, Y/N. I just wanted to say—“

“Y/N!”

The voice outside the dressing room made you turn around.

“Leena, hi! You made it!”

Then you were gone, walking out and greeting the woman she saw with you in Ibiza. Ona clenched her jaw, listening to your animated conversation in the hallway, not she had no right to infringe upon your other relationships. But she didn’t know where you stood with Leena, nor where she stood with you, and it made her nervous.

She had spent the last few months trying to make you feel her love, hoping that you would answer her and give her your heart.

You were you, though, and maybe she would never be enough to make you commit. She had messed it up before, and while you had forgiven her, you had made no effort to progress past a friendship.

She had been ready to take on Arsenal mere minutes before, now she felt dejected and beyond embarrassed.

It was an easy win for Barcelona. You managed to score again, a screamer from outside the box, and the fans went wild for your seemingly return to form.

After the game walked towards where Ona was near the stands, greeting fans, and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Nice work today,” you said.

Ona only glanced at you shortly with a small smile before turning back to the fans to sign their shirts.

Your smile faded for a split second, but it returned when Leena approached you. You didn’t realize Ona was sneaking glares at the back of your head, wishing you would just notice how desperate she was to get you alone.

That night, you were back in the hotel room you shared with Patri when you heard a knock at the door.

“Hi,” you couldn’t hide the slight inflection in your voice when you discovered that the person on the other side of the door wasn’t Patri coming back from Claudia’s room where she said she would be, but Ona.

“Hi,” she mumbled, her hands hidden in the pockets of her hoodie. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you said, stepping aside to let her in. You caught a whiff of her shampoo as she walked past you, and the comfortable way in which she dressed suddenly made your heart beat wildly.

“Are you feeling well?” You rubbed your hands together nervously, an impending question already burned into the back of your mind. “You were just quiet after the game, and I wasn’t sure whether you’d hurt yourself.”

Ona pulled on her sleeves, and timidly sat at the edge of your bed, swinging her legs back and forth. “Just wanted to come see you,” she shrugged.

You hated not being able to read her, not knowing what she was thinking. You guessed your relationship has always been like that, hiding how you really felt and continuing this façade you both had decided was the only thing that could work.

You didn’t know, but what you knew was you were tired of pretending.

“What are we to each other?” Her question tore you from your thoughts.

Well, that was certainly one way to do it. You were still standing in the middle of the room, unsure of where to go or sit.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” You answered. “We support each other, we have each other’s backs.”

“That girl you were with, are you seeing her?” Her quiet voice, in addition to the slight frown she sported made her so endearing. You hadn’t seen her so open, so vulnerable ever since the night you spent with her after Spain lost out on the Euros. But maybe then you might have missed all the signs.

“No,” you shook your head. “We’re friends. She helped me a lot after everything went down between us.”

She nodded, looking away. You still didn’t know what she was thinking, and it was driving you crazy.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You smirked, wanting to lighten the mood, but the despairing look on her face remained.

Feeling bold, you took a seat next to her on the bed. “What is it, Ona?”

She drew a breath, still refusing to look at you and opting to look at your hands instead. “I don’t want to be just friends.”

You let the silence hang because you weren’t sure if those words actually just left her mouth.

They did, because she followed up, “I want to have you to myself. I want you all the time. Every time I see you, it’s like I can’t function until you talk to me. I don’t know where we stand and it’s honestly tearing me apart. I know I sound clingy and pathetic, but I think I’m in love with you.”

You heard her repeat the last part under her breath, as if affirming to herself, as if finally saying it out loud was the hardest thing to do.

Your heart was hammering in its cage. You held her gaze when she looked up, her eyes were dull and sad and lost, despite having just won a Champions League match.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you say those words?” You cracked a tiny smile. “Almost five years. That day when we played against each other for the first time in Manchester. I singled you out, I pushed your buttons because I wanted to get your attention from the moment we met. I wanted you to notice me because I liked you.”

You knew it was a selfish thing to do, but it was the only way you knew for sure that her eyes were on you. And on you they were.

Ona perked up, grinning softly. “Really?”

“Really.”

Her pinkie was hooked with yours at your side. “I want to try us. I promise I won’t let you down this time,” she said quietly, and instead of looking away, she held your gaze firmly.

“Okay.” There was nothing else.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded and brought your hand up to glide over her cheek lightly.

Her lips parted slightly. You could see the way her chest rose and fell before she lunged at you, cupping your jaw and pressing her lips against yours.

You let out a quiet groan at the sensation of her bruising kiss. You let her do whatever she wanted, even when she shoved you down on the bed and got on top of you, kissing, touching, and feeling everywhere, you let her, because it had been too long.

At some point, you had managed to flip her over, keeping eye contact as you kissed down along her body. She always liked it when you took your time worshipping her as you did now, holding your gaze and encouraging you to keep going. Once in a while, she would throw her head back and mumble breathless profanities in her native tongue, giving you a good look at her defined jawline.

You might have known her body inside and out from the time you spent with her, but this time it felt different. There was love in every tug, every kiss, every look she gave you. You found yourself in a trance and let your body tangle with hers in ways you were too afraid to have done before; afraid it was too affectionate, too intimate, too personal.

By the time you were done, she was whimpering, her eyes closed shut, and her skin was damp and hot to the touch.

Resting your chin on her stomach, you watched her come down. When she finally opened her eyes, it took one look for the both of you to burst out into laughter.

Your laughs died down, and suddenly you felt shy again. As if having read your mind, Ona pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“When we’re back in Barcelona, I’m taking you out on a date,” she whispered.

A couple of hours later, Patri, upon entering the room, decided to grab her charger and return to Claudia and Ona’s room. She found the both of you sound asleep, tangled up in bed together, and decided to leave you be.

“But why do I have to do the press conference? Why can’t Caro or Alexia do it?” You groaned. “No one cares what I have to say.”

“Of course they do,” Toni responded. “Y/N, I might be biased, but you are one of the best players of this half of the season in the team, if not the league. You’re Barcelona’s new gem.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you muttered.

“People will want to hear from you. Plus, it’s good—“

“—publicity, yeah, I know.” You hunched over and adjusted your position on the couch. “Ughhh . . .” You groaned loudly and dragged your hands down your face. “Fine.”

Toni proceeded to run you over things you should say, things you shouldn’t say, things you should absolutely avoid at all costs. You half-listened to the rest of it because you felt the couch dip beside you, and a sneaky hand creeping up and down your back.

You ended the phone call with another sigh. The hand that calmed you proceeded to inch towards your nape, caressing the skin there.

“I thought you liked doing press.”

“No one likes doing press,” you grumbled.

You looked up from your moping and over your shoulder, and the sight of Ona made you smile. She always managed to make you forget about everything wrong in the world, and crave the warmth of her touch. When she wore one of her snuggly hoodies as she did now, the heat under the fabric made her chest and embrace extra warm.

“You’ll do great, hermosa,” she held you close to her, giggling at the feeling of your face buried deep in her neck. “Besides, what is it you always say? ‘All in a day’s work’?”

You grinned and kissed her cheek. “I hate it when you use my shtick against me.”

“No, you love it,” Ona kissed you quickly, but you held her by the collar of her sweatshirt and savored her lips a little longer.

“I was thinking,” you said slowly. “Since you already know the code for the front door, and you’re always here anyway, why don’t you move in?”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. For a split second, the silence caused a familiar pang in your heart from all the times she had turned you down. There was a moment when you imagined the worst to happen, that she would run for the hills again and leave you to pick up the pieces by yourself. But it was different this time; the circumstances were different, you both were different.

“No pressure at all. I just—It was just a suggestion—“

“Okay,” she breathed quietly. “But after the season is over.”

You let a wide grin spread across your face. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Ona smiled and tapped your nose lovingly. “Now, come on. I’ll help you practice for your big press conference.”

You groaned and sunk back into the couch, but you knew you would be able to distract her from putting you through this torture if you picked your moments right. There were no more barriers between the two of you, and kisses were expendable.

“Hello, Y/N. My question to you is, ‘How do you judge your opponent coming into this match, and are you confident that you’ll be walking home with your first Champions League after tomorrow?’” “I think that Chelsea is a formidable team, there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind about that. As for if I think we can win; yes, I think so. I’m confident in my teammates’ abilities, and I know that I’ll be giving 110% into tomorrow’s match. So, yes, we are going into this match to win.” “Obviously, you’re surrounded by World Cup finalists at Barça. What is it like playing with some of the more experienced and decorated players on this team in particular?” “It’s a wonderful environment for me as a young professional in this sport, to have that support system in my own club. I enjoy every second that I get to play alongside and learn from my teammates. No matter who it is, finalist or not, I’ve been able to learn from everyone I play with.” “You’ve had an admittedly rocky start to your spell at Barcelona, but have since improved a lot from what we’ve seen in the return leg of the season. Do you think you have fully integrated yourself into the Barça system?” “As a player, I’m very fortunate to have had the club’s, the coach’s, and my teammates’ trust as I familiarized myself with the system. I will say, I’m much more confident in my role at the club now than I was at the start of the season, and I just hope to continue to do well with the team, and we’ll see how it goes.”

All 50,000 spectators of the Estadio José Alvade roused into cheers as the whistle blew. Chelsea got the ball rolling in motion, and, already, some of its finest attackers planted themselves deep into Barcelona’s defense, waiting for their moment to reap their rewards.

It was a long back-and-forth for the next 20 minutes, and both teams were not willing to risk it in the opening minutes of the game. But then a wild attempt by Lauren James from outside the box left the ball unattended after Sandra pushed it out. Sam Kerr did what she always did best, and tapped it in. 0-1.

“Shit,” you muttered, seeing Jonatan shouting to Aitana and Patri to change tactics.

You hoped Chelsea couldn’t pick up on the franticness at which Barcelona picked up the ball again. All four players of the backline were on Chelsea’s side of the pitch, Irene, being the deepest, also just barely skirting above the halfway line.

The possession paid off though, as after a long period of tiki-taka, you found an opening for Mariona, who took the shot and sent it past Zećira Mušović into the net. 1-1.

If you could choose, you would always prefer counterattacks over possession plays, in which you could use your speed and dribble to explode; your opponents always feared it when you did. But possession was how Jonatan wanted the team to play then, and Chelsea must have anticipated that. Ève Périsset won the ball back inside the box and lobbed it across the pitch to Guro Reiten, who made the run far before anyone could catch up to her. Mapi was fast, but at her fastest she was still trailing behind her, watching powerlessly as Guro glided past Sandra coming out and passed the ball into an empty net. 1-2.

You could see some of your teammates’ spirits crumbling. Mapi was cursing under her breath as she hid her face under her shirt.

Your eyes landed on Ona walking back to the halfway line, hyping your teammates up. There was a time when she would be doing to her own teammates after you scored against her. You thought it was selfish of you to feel glad that she was doing it for you now.

“Come on, Y/N,” she clapped her hands a few times. “We got this. We’re almost there.”

She was right, you’ve suffered worse deficits, and you wouldn’t be where you were if you didn’t help your team emerge victorious from them.

The dressing room was still as the night at halftime, only the sound of cleats shuffling and the occasional water bottle caps closing were heard.

You sat in your designated spot, taking deep inhales to catch your breath, slapping your teammates’ hands as they walked in. You low-fived Ingrid before she made her way over to where Mapi sat, her head hanging low in her hand.

The team hadn’t been playing well since the beginning of the match. Maybe it was the underestimation of Chelsea’s abilities or their opening goal that caught everyone off-guard. Whatever it was, the team hasn’t recovered.

“Come on, girls,” Jonatan said in the dressing room. “We’re down by one. One. We’ve come back from worse.”

He proceeded to go over tactics again, this time using the wingers as the main force of attack. Since Chelsea would most likely park the bus now that they were in the lead, he wanted to take initiative and penetrate the defense, only the one thing you were very good at.

Ona sat down next to you, huffing a breath and leaning back against the wall. Her eyes fluttered close, and her cheeks were flushed. You thought about running your hand along her face down her neck were you in private, instead, you squeezed her knees and offered her a smile when she opened her eyes again.

“You okay?” How selfish of her to ask if you were okay when if anything, she was the only person holding this team together at this point. Out of everyone during the first 45 minutes, Ona had done her job to the very best of her abilities, and it was a lifeline to the team.

When it was time to return to the pitch, you walked to her with your heart in your hands. “Ona,” you touched her arm, “I love you.”

Your heart hammered as the corner of her lips pulled up, her brows twitching with a sympathetic look. “I love you too,” she leaned into you, “very much.”

You hoped no one noticed how wide you were smiling too, but you also hoped they did. You wanted to shout it out loud for all 50,000 people in the stadium to hear how much love you had for Ona.

“I wish you had told me that earlier, so I can kiss you,” she said.

“Later,” you grinned. “You can kiss me as much as you want.”

Summer never lasted as long as you wanted it to. Gone were the days of sunny beachside margaritas, and bonfire nights at local bars. Ona had taken you to a secluded spot off the coast of Morocco, and for two weeks straight, it was beach, drinking, the occasional sightseeing, and lots of sex. It was the first time the two of you were able to truly be alone without any distractions after you started seeing each other officially, and you couldn’t be happier that it happened the way it did.

You had been back with the team for a couple of weeks, and as much as you missed your much-needed summer vacation, you missed playing more.

“Behind you! Here, here!”

“Body language, girls! Let’s go!”

You sat on the grass, catching your breath after your first successful practice of the season.

“Getting up any time soon, partner?” You heard Ona call next to you before a water bottle was tossed onto your legs.

You grabbed the bottle and squirted some water onto her legs, but she remained unfazed with that stupid smirk on her face. “Ooh, recreating last night’s activities now, aren’t we? You know it should be more than that.”

You let out a laugh and pulled her down next to you. “Since when do you make the dirty jokes?”

“Since I started spending way too much time with you, apparently.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No,” Ona’s voice lowered as she leaned in, “not in the slightest.”

“Ey, tórtolitos (lovebirds)!” Aitana’s voice rang out. “Coach has an announcement to make. Vamos!”

You sighed. “Remind me why telling the team that we’re dating was a good idea again?”

“For one, it would stop all the pestering,” Ona pecked your lips and stood up before offering a hand. “Come on, tórtola. Time waits for no one, not even for new Champions League winners.”

You didn’t expect things to turn out the way they did when you first saw her across the pitch years ago, but you were glad that they did, and better than you could have ever hoped.

You took Ona’s hand gingerly, swinging it back and forth, getting used to the feeling, because you intended on having it with you forever. If Ona came with it too, that's fine by you, you supposed.

The Athletic: A Star Is Born — Y/N Y/L/N’s Barcelona Start and Road to First Champions League “Y/N Y/L/N is the kind of player every club would benefit from having,” said former Manchester City captain Vincent Kompany in the summer of 2020, days before news of Y/L/N’s signing was announced. “She is a star in the making.” Y/L/N came up within the ranks of Portland Thorns before getting picked up at Man City, helping the club to its first-ever WUCL participation. But it was at Barcelona that she was able to realize her potential. And then, in the 94th of the Champions League final, she scored and sealed a third European championship for Barcelona. After a tumultuous season which sees Barcelona barely clinch the league title for the sixth year in a row, Y/N Y/L/N emerged a key player at La Blaugrana, a sure-fire Ballon d’Or contender in October, and one of the most prolific forwards within the game—and she’s only 23. […]”

a/n: WOOP WOOP!! we made it guys, we've reached the end. if you've read everything up until now, i sincerely thank you for coming along on this journey of self-indulgence lol. we'll say goodbye to y/n and ona and let them ride off into the sunset and continue to slay at barcelona. once again, thank you for reading, more woso fics coming soon! for now, delfiore over and out 🫡

[ultralightpoe]

Tiktok Trouble Pt 2 - Jake Seresin

Dreamweaver's Note: This is a Cosmic post, which means it has already been published once but due to being hacked I had to start over since I lost everything. -Ultralight

⚠️Fae-Bound Triggers: None.

⏳Length of the Spell: 2k+ words

✨What the Stars Foretell: Your husband struggles to survive your tiktok pranks.

✨Starlit Archive ✨ Stardust Inbox ✨

⟵ Previous Chapter🌙 Next Chapter ⟶

Enjoy!

The morning of your errands had started off salty with Jake, who content with bitching about everything, and you had gotten just as snippy with him considering you had been in such a good mood when you both left the house. But he had worn you down, now you were sitting in the car with your thighs sticking to his leather seats like crazy (he hated air conditioning and the heat was just clinging to you) while he ran in and grabbed what he needed from this store. 

Normally Jake would take you in with him, but today he made a snippy comment about not wanting to be in there forever so you rolled your eyes and turned the music up as he got out, cracking the windows like you were a dog. 

It’s here you got the idea.

You had taken a break from posting pranks on tiktok, your guys’ sink had actually busted (Jake was so happy he watched the videos) and one of his old navy brothers had lost their lives so you both had flown out for the funeral. After that everything just seemed to be too busy, and Jakes mood was ever so cranky as of late. But today seemed like a good day to try and lighten the mood. So you set up your phone and waited, once you saw him come out of the store you began fighting something in the backseat. 

Jake, as first, seems to think you are looking for something and when he gets into the car he slaps your thigh lightly. “What’d you lose?”

“NOTHING! BUT THIS BITCH HAS LOST HER MIND!” You snap and start swinging at an imaginary figure in the back. Jake stops and stares at you, leaning against his door as he tries to figure out what is going on while you act out a very angry fight. 

“What. Is. Happening?”

“Bubs, she’s running her fucking mouth to me right now- seriously? No YOUR MOM-” You are about to swing at the air again and he catches your hand, pulling you back and reaching to feel your forehead. 

“We should get you some water-”

“Mind your fucking business!” You shout to the back and your husband nods aggressively and turns to the back to snap out a ‘bitch’ before turning to you and moving to buckle you in. 

“You tell her. You tell that….bitch?” He really doesn’t seem to know what to do, so he simply buckles you and reaches for the water bottle he brought, that’s when he sees your phone. “Oh for the love of-”

You’re laughing your ass off and he’s covering his face as you turn off the video. “Really?! I was so confused!”

“I’m sorry. You were being such a sourpuss this morning and I HAD TO!” You laugh, kissing his elbow as he continues rubbing his face.  “Love you bubs.”

“I love you too. Even when I think you’re batshit crazy.”

—------------------------

COMMENTS:

“The thigh slap- PLEASE LORD I’LL BE GOOD-”

“LMAO, when he finally just gives in and helps”

“SNSJKSJJANNX X I WANT THEM BOTH! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!”

“Y/n has now proven she can fight anyone that tries to take her man”

—-----------------------

“Sugar?!” Jake calls from the bottom of the stairs, tapping his foot a little impatiently as he waits for your response. You, being the perfect wife who would never do anything wrong in her life ever, closed out the webpage of adoptable dogs that your husband specifically said no to and ran to the stairs. 

“Yeah bubs? What’s up?” You smile, watching his face morph into suspicion. 

“Didn’t like that one bit- but I need to run to the store and figure out what pipes match our sink. You’ll be okay here?”

“Will I be okay in the air conditioned house with my handsome husband out going to get stuff for our sink? All lonely and sad and ever so hor-”

“Okay okay, just gimme a kiss.” He laughs, waiting for you to run down the stairs and kiss him before you get an idea and run back up the stairs as he leaves. 

You snatch your phone and film a quick video of him getting into the car before screen recording yourself texting him ‘Come over he just left’ once you are sure he’s down the block.  Then you wait, until you hear a sharp screech and see his car zooming into the driveway. You set up your phone to record on his dresser and run to your shared bathroom as he books it up the stairs. 

“Y/n?” He asks when he reaches the bedroom, looking nothing less of pissed. 

“Yeah bubs? I thought you were going out?” You call from the bathroom, fixing your hair as you waited. 

“I decided that you broke the sink and should come with me.” He says sternly, crossing his arms and leaning on your dresser, the camera catching his jaw flex perfectly.  You swing the door open with wide eyes looking nothing less than excited. 

“Can we stop for pops?” You know he loves when you say pops instead of soda, and he tries not to smile. 

“As soon as you tell me what dumbass you were trying to sleep with in OUR BED.” He snaps, giving you a tight lipped smile with his arms still crossed. 

“Ohhhh yeah…. About that….” You smile, pointing to the camera and watching his face relax instantly. “Say hi to your fans bubs-”

“Are you trying to kill me?” He laughs, pulling you in to kiss you before standing up and walking to the door. “Grab your phone and purse. You’re still coming with me.”

—--------------------

COMMENTS:

“Girl, he’s MILITARY. Are you trying to get hit?”

– “STFU, that man does not hit woman unless they ask. Watch their other vids”

“The way his arms flex when he crosses them. I see now why she likes pissing him off.”

“They f***ed in the car. FOR SURE”

—--------------------

Before Jake got home from work you had hot glued the olive jar while taping it, then started cooking dinner while you waited. When you heard the sound of his keys in the door you started filming, leaving your phone on the table as you moved back to the stove. 

“Evenin’ Sugar.” He smiles, moving to you and kissing your shoulder as you move a cheek to him so he can kiss that as well. “Whatcha makin’?”

“Your in a good mood, that southern drawl comes out when you are.” You smile, watching him set his keys on the counter and reach across you to steal a green bean.

“Watched Rooster do 100 pushups.” He laughs before wrapping his arms around you. “What time do your parents get here?”

“About an hour- can you open that jar for me?” You ask sweetly pointing to the jar of olives you had glued. 

“What do I get out of it?” He teases, already snatching the jar. He tugs on it once, twice, then he gets frustrated and puts all his strength into it, face pinching up as he grunts out. “You’re kidding me..”

“Can’t get it?” You ask, moving closer as he tries again, grunting and turning red. “How about you go get changed and try again when you come back?”

He nods, setting it down with a face of disbelief and allowing you to kiss his cheek before running off to change. You snatch the jar and take it to the fridge, replacing it with the jar you hadn’t glued, setting it up. When you know he is within eyepoint you grab the fresh jar and pop it open with ease. 

“WOAH BABY!” He laughs, picking you up and spinning you around. “I married she hulk.”

“It wasn’t that hard.”

“Now you’re just hurtin my feeling- HEY GOTCHA!” He spots the camera, keeping you lifted in one arm while he points at it. “You tried messing with me and I busted ya-”

“Okay okay- put me down.” You laugh, gripping his shoulder to not fall. “Bubs-”

“Nope!” He laughs, reaching for the sink hose and dousing you with it making you squeal. 

—--------------

COMMENTS:

“I think he is finally catching on”

“Making us all wet- oop”

—---------------

The next prank a whole two weeks, both of you getting busy with work and not having much time together besides sleeping, but you finally had a day off….which meant torturing your husband obviously.

You had woken up before him and gotten ready, doing your hair and makeup just the way he liked whilst picking an outfit you knew he loved before walking downstairs and putting a little heart over the date on the calendar just to fool him a little more. 

He trudged downstairs while you were on the phone with your parents, taking a second to lean on the counter and admire you while drinking the coffee you already prepared for him, wiggling his eyebrows when you turned to him while talking. 

What he didn’t know was that you were talking on a fake phone whilst yours was hidden on a shelf filming him. “Yes! I’m very excited for tonight, I think Jake is gonna try to surprise me.”

His eyebrows stop wiggling and pinch together in confusion as he pulls the cup away from his lips, mouthing a ‘what’ as you point to the calendar and then leave the room to keep ‘talking to your parents’.

Your husband looks at the calendar and sees the heart, head snapping to the side as he tries to think about what today was supposed to be. “Crap crap crap-”

The only problem came when your phone actually started ringing, drawing his attention to where it was hidden to film. “AHA!”

You laugh from the other room, knowing you were busted and the prank had failed, walking in to watch him flip the camera off and turn it off. “You haven’t been on your a game , lovely wife. I expect better.”

“Bring it on then.” You smile, enjoying the cocky smile that fills his face. 

—------------

So you upped your game, you bought a couple cameras to hide around and you thought of some great ideas. Jake Seresin was gonna regret marrying you. 

The first day he was gone on a mission you decided that instead of worrying about your husbands safety you would rather learn the WAP dance to piss him off when he gets back. The day after his return he is laying on the couch with his eyes closed (you made him tired after a long night in his defense) and you decide that you want to show him a tiktok dance.

“Okay I’m gonna set up the phone here,” You explain, leaning it against your tv before taking a couple steps back for dancing room. 

“Oh so I know where the camera is this time?” He teases, you snort and try not to look where the mini camera is hidden by his game console. 

“Just watch-” You laugh, playing the song. His eyes widen when it starts playing and then you start dancing and he is shooting up. By the time the song got to the actual WAP part he is dashing to snatch you up of the floor. 

“No ma’am.” He laughs, hanging you in the air like a dog that just got busted.

“WAIT! THERE IS MORE!” You laugh as he goes to turn the phone off. 

“Sorry Sugar but I really don’t need the squad seeing my gorgeous wife dancin’ like a stripper all over the internet. Save it for the bedroom.” He sets you down and smacks your ass harshly while laughing before he leaves the room thinking you hadn’t gotten any of that on film….sucker.

—---------------

COMMENTS:

“THE LAUGH AFTER HE SPANKED HER! STFU FNJENFJDBSB”

“LET HER FINISH THE DANCE! NOOOOO-”

—----------------

“JAKE SERESIN!” You shout, winking to the camera that was hidden in the kitchen and wait. The second you shouted with an angry tone you heard his phone drop and the sound of his feet hitting the stairs to rush to you. Once you were sure he could see you, you pretend to be angry. 

You have your arms crossed and a harsh glare as he comes into the kitchen looking like a little puppy. 

“Yes Sugar?”

“You got something you wanna tell me?” You ask, taking a step back when he takes a step for you. His eyes flash hurt and for a second you wanna tell him it’s a prank, but you double down and wait. 

“I….I uhm- well…..I forgot our anniversary?” He guesses, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “No! Wait! I missed your families monthly dinner- no w-”

“Final answer?”

“Wait, Y/n baby, just tell me what I did. No gimme a hint.” He rushes, falling to his knees. THE MAN ACTUALLY FELL TO HIS KNEES, and grabbed at your thighs. You break then, laughing and grabbing his jaw softly. 

“Just a prank babe.” You smile, kissing his temple and he whips back to glare. 

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I’m gonna make a tiktik and start pranking you!” He seethes and you crack up, but he shakes his head. “You’re laughing now, but you just started a war sugar.”

“Bring it on Bubs.”

“Oh I will.” He flips off your phone which makes you laugh harder already knowing that the phone wasn’t recording and he kisses your cheek before walking off. 

“See you soon…..”

—--------------

COMMENTS:

H_ngman: You have been warned!

Mrs.Bagman: Bring it on!!!

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[ford-pines-lover]

Haunted

Can't breathe whenever you're gone...

Here's a new one everyone!! @chillinglyadventurous here it is!!!

Tags: SFW, a bit dark in the beginning, lighter at the end, ford x reader, some drinking

Stanford Pines x Reader

You and I walk a fragile line 

Ford was sitting in his usual spot in his lab. The incessant whirring of his machines were no longer audible. No current projects were being worked on. There were many sheets of paper around his workstation, some of which are probably letters to you. There weren’t many things that made this old man tick, but when something did, it was quite significant. Thoughts of you and what you had been clouded his mind. The way you left had left scars in his riddled mind. 

Stan paced around the shack, worried about how his twin was doing. It didn’t take much to worry him about Ford, but this time it was different. Ford had lost you. Ford had lost the one strong connection in his life. The last time that had happened, he got sucked through the portal. He lost his friendship with Bill. Well, it was more intimate than a friendship one would say. It was certainly astonishing how a mortal could worship a demon of sorts. 

The change was imminent. There was nothing either of you two could do to stop it. You had left for the city. You had already told him when you two started dating that you were a year away from finishing medical school and couldn’t stay in Gravity Falls, no matter how badly Ford wanted you to. No matter how badly you wanted to. The end was inevitable. It always was. Why did it hurt Ford so bad when it was so clear? 

You still visited Ford on your time off of med school. You two celebrated Thanksgiving and Haunakkah together. You shared secrets that you would never want anyone else to know. You and Ford got drunk once. Like actually drunk. He doesn’t remember what happened but you do. He asked you to marry him. Stay with him. Live with him. It hit you like a truck. You couldn’t be doing any of this. Shouldn’t be doing any of this. 

You went out to your car and cried. This whole thing felt wrong to you. Like you weren’t supposed to be happy. Why were you holding yourself back? The next morning you were gone, with a note left on the fridge reading:

Hi my love. If you’re reading this then I am back on campus. I was called away for a clinical trial that my university wanted me to be a part of. I am so sorry that I couldn’t say goodbye. I promise I will call when I have some time. Stay out of trouble. :) <3

Your stardust

A year after starting clinicals, you came down to Gravity Falls most weekends. Each weekend you were pulling away. Just stalling for the end. Of course you never wanted the end. Of course neither of you wanted the break. There was always this lingering question and fear in the air with every visit. There was a lack of conclusion, like a hidden message with every clandestine meeting.

The stolen kisses.

Forbidden goodbyes.

Then the hours picked up at work and the weekend trips were no longer possible. The calls after work became obsolete. Love became scarce. Then you were nothing short of a memory. 

I have known it all this time

Ford stares down at his notes. It had been months. There was not a moment, though, that you didn’t cross Ford’s mind. His notes in his journal are a clear cut of that. These notes were never something he would ever have you read. They were his. His inescapable thoughts that clogged up his daring mind. 

Y/n, please come home. It’s been 200 days without you and I don’t know how much longer I can last, my love. I think of coming to see you, but perhaps that’s not the best idea. I don’t want to make a show in front of your new hospital. I crave you every moment. I’ve not forgotten about us and who we used to be. I long for us to be together again, yet I don’t think that’s possible. You’re the light of my life, the center of my universe, and I need you back. I can’t stand the idea of you being in the arms of another man. Or person. I love you.

There were tear stains on the paper smudging some of the ink. Quiet sniffling was all that Stan needed to hear before he ran down to the lab. The lab had become a mess with Ford going into a major depression. Coffee mugs everywhere, plates and dishes of uneaten food. While everything seemed desolate in this lab, there was still the quiet tune of classical music that Ford always played when he was working. It was calming for him. 

“Hey, Sixer, let’s go for a drive?” Stan offered. He put his hand on Ford’s shoulder. It was a small step. Things between them and this whole situation will get better. Ever since the break up, Ford had pushed everyone in his life away. Stan was nothing more than a stranger living in his house. 

A sniffle. Then a sigh. “Sure.” He knew that if he were to decline, it would just stress Stan out more. That’s counterproductive. Keeping his family safe is the number one thing. That’s what he’s here for. Though there is this unriddled fear of opening up to his twin. This fear that something bad will happen. Ever since he came back from the portal his mental state has not been all there. It has started to cause his physical state to deteriorate as well. Ford has a five-o’clock shadow, dirty sweater that he hasn’t wanted to wash, and he’s gotten weaker due to the lack of nutrition and exercise. 

The car ride was serene. Shows of fireflies and crickets out the windows. So far it has been quiet. Nothing but the creatures and the vehicle that were making noise. There was a full moon tonight, more specifically the strawberry moon. It signifies the ripening of strawberries and the beginning of summer. It was so nostalgic for both Ford and Stan to just sit and admire the night sky. Pointing out all of the constellations and the planets that they could see with the naked eye. Stan always said Ford was a nerd for knowing every single constellation. He could also name all of them in the southern hemisphere. Stan would never admit it, but he wishes that he could have the same mind as Ford. 

“So,” Stan starts. He decided to park in a secluded area. The trees were full and there was a clearing where they could sit and stargaze. Perfect for taking is slow and easy. “Wanna talk about it? Take your mind off of it? Might help, ya know?” He chuckles and grabs a soda from the console of the car. He opens it with a pop! and takes a long sip.

It takes Ford a minute to gather what he wants to say. Did Stan already know what was bothering me? Ugh, I feel funny. I know this isn’t healthy for me, so I should just be honest with him. I hate feeling pins and needles in my hand.. Ford flexes his right hand and realizes he can’t fully close it. “Stan?” Ford looked at Stan, worried. Suddenly a wave of pain flows through his head. Ford took a deep breath, but not wanting to upset Stan anymore decided to let it go. “Okay, so I…” He breathes through the pain, “I miss her. More than anyone could imagine. It’s–ow!–debilitating at this point.” He holds his head with his left hand. 

“Sixer, at this point you might have to give her a visit, you’re worrying me.” Stan reaches over to his twin and takes a good look at his face. “Smile for me, once.”

Ford does so. Only to see that the right side of his face is not reacting to the stimuli. “Is there…”

“Nope. Okay, so I am driving you to the closest hospital.” Stan started up the car and fiercely put the car in drive. Trees flew past as Stan sped through the countryside. Ford was starting to look a little more worse for wear, but Stan figured there was enough time to make it to the closest ER. Unfortunately that was a bit over an hour away. All the way in Bend. If Stan drove quick enough he would make it in about an hour give or take. Hopefully just enough time. 

But I never thought I'd live to see it break 

You were sitting on a computer in the ER. It was a quiet night, nothing super exciting happening. There were the usuals with the falling off rocks or trees. A couple cat bites. Nothing serious worth noting. You had a bachelors in biology and neuroscience, so anything having to do with brain trauma was your forte. Learning how the brain functions and works was always something that you were passionate about. 

Working as an ER doctor was always something you wanted to do. When you were around 4, your dad took a video of you saying you wanted to be a “home-scientist doctor” whatever that means. Somehow you feel like you fulfilled 4-year-old you’s wishes. 

There was still that thought that lingered in your mind though. What if you decided to stay in Gravity Falls? What if you stayed with the man you loved instead of becoming a doctor? Why couldn’t you have both? Why don’t you just open a small clinic in Gravity Falls? You had met Ford while on your summer trip through every state in the U.S. You had seen online that there was this one particular town that held anomalous and curious creatures. Of course you had thought these things were all “tourist traps” to try and get money from all the people passing through. It did work of course, since you did stop through. 

Upon entering the Mystery Shack, you are greeted by two young teenage children. 

“Welcome to the Mystery Shack!! Where we are just west of weird!” you see the brown haired girl come up to greet you. “Are you looking to tour?”

“Actually, yeah that would be great,” you say, smiling. 

Your train of thought is interrupted by some paramedics rushing through. There seemed to be two men, one on the stretcher hooked up to an IV and one yelling and asking what was going on. Wait. You knew that voice. 

“Dr. L/N. Room 618.” Your attending gave you the patient’s charts. “You’re on duty.” You gave a curt nod and prepared for what could happen. Because this most definitely is Ford. There’s no doubt about it. Why else would Stan be here? Unless he was being kind and helped someone off the road? 

You open the chart. Stanford F. Pines. 63 years old. Shit. 

“Hey, Pines.” You try to smile through the pain of seeing your ex-lover in the hospital that you now called home. You scan through the chart for more information on why he could be here. He’s not conscious. Neurological damage. “I’m Dr. L/N, but you already know that-”

“Kid, can’t you see my brother’s dying? Come and do something! Anything!” Stan had tears streaming down his face. “I can’t lose him again.”

“Stan..” You walk over to Stan. “He’s going to be okay. I promise you.” You go out of the room and order a CT and an MRI. You’re going to make damn sure that that man doesn’t die on you. That is not going to happen today. 

It's getting dark and it's all too quiet

“Hey, doc, come look at this.” One of the interns hands you the scans of Ford’s brain. His brain is nothing short of normal. Except for a minor brain bleed. Nothing that could cause severe damage.

“Okay, good, just a brain bleed and it seems to have repaired itself. Thank god.” You let out a major sigh of relief. You start to walk over to the room when the intern stops you again. 

“No, wait, what is this attached to his skull?” There was some sort of distortion within the image. The MRI seemed tampered with, but this is something that typically happens when metal goes through the machine. 

“I- I’m not sure.” 

And I can't trust anything now

Back in the room, Ford is studying you carefully. You’re intently talking to a colleague. A male colleague. Not like it matters. Until his mind starts rushing with thoughts. Was this someone you were close with? What was this stuff the nurse gave me? I missed her face and eyes. Why is she so close to him? What were those scans in their hands? 

Stan could tell that Ford’s mind was running all over the place. “Hey, Sixer, what’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Can’t stop thinking about your hottie over there? I do gotta say, you have great taste in women, if you ever want to share–”

“Stanley, enough. She might not even be mine anymore. Look at how close she is with that… coworker? Nurse? Someone? I don’t know!” Ford starts to feel his heartbeat pick up. Why was I getting all worked up because of a girl? 

“Well, she sure cares at least a little bit. She made sure you were top priority for scans tonight.” Stan proudly gleams. “Plus I saw her panic when she walked in, it was priceless.” 

“Did she really?” Ford seemed to have calmed down from hearing that. What was in that medicine the nurse gave me? Seriously! It is not like me to act this way!

“She absolutely did, and here she comes now,” Stan smiles as you walk back into the room. 

And it’s coming over you like it’s all a big mistake

You walk into room 618 with Stan sitting by Ford’s bedside. Ford is conscious once again and the nurse has been giving him medicine to keep him stable. He looks so soft here. You’ve never seen him where he’s been completely vulnerable. There’s usually one barricade up just to keep himself safe. You’ve never understood why he was like that in the first place. It’s like he was put through something incredibly traumatic and can’t let go of it. Stan told you that he has been through some “inter-dimensional portal” and that is why he was gone for 30 years. The story didn’t make sense from a scientific level, since it was scientifically impossible, or improbable, for a portal to even exist. 

Ford sees you enter the room. His eyes like saucers. He can’t fight the feeling of relief when he sees your face. “Hey, I–I’ve missed you.” His face was soft yet angled with worry. He was concerned with how you would respond since that came out without thinking. 

You smile and sit on his bedside. Oh how you’ve missed him. “Hey, Ford. It seems you have had a small brain bleed. Nothing too bad, it resolved itself.” You look at him longingly. This is wildly inappropriate patient-doctor behavior, but you just can’t help yourself. At least you’re not like Izzie Stevens and Denny Duquette from Grey’s Anatomy. That was probably what inspired people to write the code of conduct for patient-doctor behavior. 

“I’m gonna be okay then?”

“You are. I would like you to stay overnight just to monitor your symptoms.” You get up and start to take vitals. “Did you guys really drive all this way? Or were you already here?”

Holding my breath

“This was the closest and best ER in a 60 mi radius. Plus it’s not like he would want to see anyone but you, Y/N” Stan said gruffly. He softly smiles, knowing that his twin is going to be okay. 

“Stanley!” Ford’s face flushes a complete crimson. He hides his face in embarrassment. You missed this.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about you too, Stanford.” You go over to shut the door of the room you were in. “I’ve regretted not talking to you. You meant a lot to me and honestly I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I’m going to start my own clinic down in Gravity Falls.” You go back to his bedside and hold his hand. You trace his fingers. It was one of your favorite things to do. 

“Stardust, why? Don’t you love it in the city? You’re not one for small town living.” Ford’s voice went soft as he softly brushed your face. 

“Well, I still have to talk about it with my supervisor, but I think it’ll go well. There are plenty of unknown injuries and it would bring in money for the hospital.” 

“Well, then.” He smiles wide. “I think it’s a marvelous idea.” 

Won’t lose you again

2 months later

You are sitting on the porch of the Mystery Shack, drink in hand. It was just something to celebrate the clinic being built and up and running. Ford has agreed to help out in any way he can with the knowledge he has, and you run and sometimes help people. It’s a complete hit in this town, all of the people are happy to be able to have affordable healthcare so close. 

You look down at your left hand and admire the ring on your finger. It was dazzling, like nothing you’d ever seen. You were ready to spend the rest of your life with this man. Even if it meant having to check his vitals everyday and making sure he’s taking care of himself. 

“Hey, love?” Ford grabs your hand and smiles wide. “I have something to give you.” he reaches into his pocket to reveal many envelopes. “These are letters I used to write when I missed you, which happened to be often.” he chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. 

There just so happened to be one envelope from every day since we stopped talking. 

What a man.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”