#I will answer... but long posts take so much energy...

[distuff]

How about ‘would they be jealous if you were talking to/hanging out with someone for a long time’? Just how would they act with jealousy for all the saja boys, or baby and mystery if u don’t want to do all of the saja boys

Answer: Hello my dear readershi! Thank you for the prompt. As it gives me a tOn of creative freedom lol I hope you'll enjoy what I've created for ya ( ´ ꒳ ` ) Also! arigatou for givin mhe a choice, bUt I'll happily do all of 'em for ya. Note. The person who asked for another jealousy troupe, as well, please note that yours will be posted tomorrow if nothing major comes in between🙌

📍Requests:

OPEN

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

Demon Boys' And Others With You

Featuring: Jinu Saja, Abs Saja, Mystery Saja, Romance Saja, Baby Saja Reader: Gender neutral

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Jinu Saja

🐦‍⬛ So. Let’s get one thing straight. Jinu was not the jealous type. Why bother? I mean really! He’s a demon for crying out loud! He can shift into the most handsome being, conjure up anything he wants with a snap of his fingers if he so much as wished to. He had no reason to be jealous of others - if anything, others should be jealous of him.

🐦‍⬛ So why is it that when you tell him you’ll have to cancel your date because of this “other person”, he feels like… he doesn’t have everything? His silence must have been confirmation for you. Or maybe it was the call from that other person in the background that made you hang up with a quick, “Love you!”

🐦‍⬛ Jinu doesn’t know - nor does he care as much as he cares about the setup in front of him. It took effort to kick the other guys out and get the living room to look the way it did now: pillows spread on the floor, fluffy blankets tossed around, and a perfect mix of warm and cold snacks for your lazy night together. Some random movie was already playing quietly in the background.

🐦‍⬛ It took considerable self-restraint not to set the calling device - “phone,” as humans called it - on fire, or smash it to bits. Instead, he threw it onto the couch with a dramatic groan, scowling at the feeling curling tight in his chest. It felt far too familiar for his liking - a reminder of his pathetic past.

🐦‍⬛ Jinu brushed it off the first time. Whatever. Fine. You had a life outside of him. Who cares! Not him! ... The Tiger and the Magpie gave him unimpressed stares. Or at least, the bird did. Tiger - Jinu hoped - was trying to console him, especially when he slowly walked over… only to pass him without pause and disappear into Jinu’s room. “Ungrateful cat…” Jinu muttered.

🐦‍⬛ The second time? It wasn’t even supposed to be just the two of you. The guys were also there to hang out with the two of you. Jinu refused to acknowledge the tick in his brow when you told him over the “phone” that you’d unexpectedly had to meet up with someone else.

🐦‍⬛ Jinu also pointedly ignored the sidelong glances the others were giving him. Baby looked utterly disinterested in this matter, while the rest tried to hype him up in their own... unique and completely unnecessary ways- Jinu takes it back. Baby wasn’t the asshole this time. Safe to say, when it kept happening, Jinu was starting to seriously consider binding you to him with a demonic contract.

Jinu would’ve congratulated you - for managing to make him think about anything other than his mission or his desire to reclaim his soul. But you weren’t here. Again. It wasn’t like you two didn’t hang out at all anymore... but it was less than what Jinu was used to. With a heavy sigh, Jinu closed his eyes, pressing his forearm against them as he lay sprawled in bed. Who knew what hour it was? Judging from the low hum of the honmoon barrier mingling with the underlying energy of the others, it wasn’t late enough for them to rest. Not that they needed to - but it helped pass the time when there was nothing else to do. Like right now. Right now, when Jinu could - should - be focusing on the reason he was even in the human world to begin with. But he couldn’t. Because every time he tried, his mind circled back to you. To the thought that maybe you’d figured out who - what - he was. That maybe he didn’t have whatever it was you were looking for... and you were seeking it in someone else. “Ridiculous...” he muttered. Unsure if it was aimed at himself or the situation. His thoughts betrayed him, replaying moment after moment with you. His hand reached automatically for Tiger, who had curled up on his stomach and was now purring softly. Comforting. He thought of your first meeting. The first time you went out to dinner and actually made him laugh - really laugh, not the practised kind he’d perfected over centuries. The way you smiled when you were just being you, and how that let him ease into showing bits of himself - shifting between disguise and truth. He remembered introducing you to the others. The way you slowly, but surely easier into his life more. You even hung out with th—

Jinu's eyes snapped open. He shot upright so suddenly that Tiger had to duck off the bed to avoid being smacked in the face. Jinu sat there, eyes blown wide, as a memory slammed into him like a newly turned demon. He hadn’t corrected either of them. You hadn’t been with them at the time - but knowing those idiots? There was no telling when they might’ve run into you without mentioning it and just blurring the same words in front of you. Teasingly or not, Jinu could easily imagine you not taking it well. Could it be…? His eyes narrowed, glowing gold for a brief second before flicking back to black as his ears strained, hearing the phone on his nightstand vibrate seconds before ringing. He glanced at the screen - then instantly answered it, pressing the phone to his ear. Your voice, as beautiful and soothing as always, spilled into the quiet and Jinu felt tension he didn’t even know he was holding unravel inside him. “Jinu~ Why aren’t you sleeping?” He pulled one knee up to rest his elbow on it, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he answered just as gently, “Who says you didn’t wake me up, hmm?” It seemed it was late for a human then. Hearing you laugh and shifting around in the background, Jinu zeroed his attention on you. “Because when you sleep, you sleep, hahaha!” Not true, Jinu thought - but didn’t say. He was wide awake plenty of times. But if pretending to be asleep meant you’d play with his hair longer, he’d do it every time. There was a pause. He could only hear your breathing. And usually, that was enough. It brought him peace. But even across the distance, he could feel your hesitance. A subtle uncertainty within your honmoon signature that made something twist in his chest.

Why are you hesitating… with me?

He pressed the phone tighter to his ear, fingers twitching with the urge to reach for your wavelength through the barrier as the hollowness in his chest thrummed with quiet ache. Before he met you, the void was easier to ignore - insatiable, familiar. But now… even if it wasn’t full, you brought warmth. A soft light that flickered in the emptiness where a soul should have been.

He didn’t want to go back to that empty place. He didn’t want to go back to before you. “Jinu?” you finally said his name, and the hesitation in it made him tense again. He wanted to ask, What is it? He wanted to ask, Are you going to end this? But his thoughts spiralled too fast to settle on just one question. Which was ridiculous. He had nothing to lose and nothing to give you. This whole... arrangement wasn't even there to last... That should’ve made it easier. Should’ve. But did not. Jinu let out a deep breath, realising you wouldn’t continue unless he showed he was listening. Shifting, he lay back on the pillow, gripping the phone tightly. “Yeah?” he finally breathed, ignoring Tiger’s piercing gaze and Magpie’s scrutinising stare from across the room. He expected a lot. Maybe an awkward apology - not that you needed to apologise. He’d never outright said anything was wrong. Maybe you’d tell him you weren’t comfortable anymore. Maybe— That’s why, when your next words came, his eyes widened, and he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Is something wrong?” you asked, unsure and worried. “No—No. Pffft. Nooo—why would you think that?” he said, way too quickly. Even a blind human would’ve known something was off. Another pause. Then a sigh. “Jinu…” you said his name with a tired, warning tone. He grinned shakily, even though you couldn’t see it. “Yeeees?” he drawled, teasing - but you huffed. He could almost see your expression: the smile tugging at your lips, the brow you always raised when he was clearly bullshitting. Then there was silence again. This time, Jinu broke it. With a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagged. Under Tiger’s drilling gaze, Magpie’s quiet judgement, and your pressing silence he finally admitted what had been weighing him down. “You never—” No, that wasn’t right. He inhaled and tried again. “We don’t spend as much time as we used to and I - I can’t help but wonder if… the person you always seem to prefer has something I… don’t.” He couldn’t hide the flush in his cheeks. Embarrassed. But it was either say it or let it rot the short-lived connection that brought him comfort. Thankfully, you didn’t let him stew for long. “Baboya~” you said fondly, and Jinu could hear your smile. “These people are just part of the project I was assigned to.” Jinu blinked. Speechless. “…Project?” he echoed. Barely registering this "person" were "people". You laughed gently. “Yes! Hahaha! I really do apologise. Looks like I forgot to tell you… It’s just hard to focus on all my responsibilities when I’m with you, Jinu. I promise! This time, I won’t bail on you, ’kay?” He felt his face soften into a grin. Something in his chest buzzed - there may be no heart in his core, but he could still feel the growing warmth. He bent forward, clutching his shirt with his free hand, grinning like an idiot. “You better… You don’t want me to steal you right in front of them, do you?” You laughed, probably thinking he was joking. But Jinu wasn’t. Not even a little. Your words reassured him that he was enough - but after everything he’d experienced, he wasn’t going to let anyone take your time meant for him. He wasn’t that reasonable of a “man.”

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Abs Saja

💪 Abby had no issue with you hanging out with others. He trusted that you had eyes and knew he was a catch - and that you’d tell him if something wasn’t right, just like he bluntly did to you.

💪 Family hangouts? Easy. Abby had no problem showing up and showing off to your relatives even when he was not invited. Friends? Peers? All of that was just background noise - opportunities, really - for him to flex as your partner while the cute little rats around the two of you squealed his praises. It was a win-win.

💪 His eagerness and chill attitude about you being around others, however, was not a green light for you to pull a: “Me and the others are having a slumber party!” - followed by a kiss on the cheek and a swift sprint out of the apartment he shared with the guys.

💪 Abby respected your clever escape, because he knew if you didn’t plan it like a prison break, he would’ve already had you trapped in his arms, hoisted over his shoulder, and dragged off to his room for his required daily dose of nightly cuddles - unbothered by your flailing attempts to escape.

💪 Abby was a demon who couldn't hide his reactions. So when the door shut behind you, his brain was still buffering - trying to piece together what the hell just happened - before his lips pulled into a dramatic pout. He turned to his brothers lounging in the living room and pointed at the door with his thumb in a wordless: Can you believe that?!

💪 Jinu and Romance exchanged a glance while Mystery just shook his head - less in understanding and more in quiet pity. Baby released his lollipop with a loud pop as he looked him over with drooped eyes. “Pathetic.” Then he put his lollipop back and went right back to scribbling in a notebook, no doubt perfecting Jinu’s lyrics again.

It was safe to say Abby didn’t require rest. He didn’t have a heart like humans, meaning he didn’t need rest to produce whatever the blood was formed from for it to function. For demons, sleep was more of a pastime - something to do when there was nothing else going on. But for Abby? There was always something going on. He wasn’t the structured type - he always went with whatever caught his attention or he thought was a great idea to do. However, ever since you entered his life, Abby had developed one routine. You, in his bed, sleeping next to him every night. No exceptions. Until today. Because today, you decided a bunch of squealing meat sticks were more important than him and your shared cuddles. And for what, exactly? A slumber party? What the fuck even was that? Well, he knew now - thanks to Mystery, who had flipped through one of his human books and casually explained that slumber parties were events where humans “bonded” by staying up late, talking… and summoning demons. Which - hello? You already had a demon. Him. Or were you trying to tell him he was supposed to go to that party and fight off some pathetic, low-ranking worm of a demon to prove himself to you? That theory was quickly shut down by Juni, who waved his arms frantically and made a big “X” with his hands. “No, no,” Juni said, exasperated. “It’s not that kind of slumber party.” Yes, it was about bonding and talking, he explained - but mostly it was eating snacks, playing games, and then cuddling together before falling asleep. Abby did not like that. Were you saying he wasn’t good enough to cuddle? Not warm enough? Not sturdy enough? He could change forms if you needed him to! All you had to do was say the word - he could be anything for you. All he needed to do was tell you that he was a demon who could- Abby let out a frustrated growl into his pillow, which was currently trapped in a suffocating death grip. The others - excluding Romance, who had flashed him an enthusiastic thumbs-up - had shot him sharp, warning glares the moment he suggested it. Their not-so-subtle way of saying: fucking try it.

He huffed, burying his chin into the pillow that still smelled like both of you. His bored eyes drifted toward the glittering honmoon barrier, pulsing in slow, even waves on the bed. He hated how badly he wanted to devour you - to keep you with him at all times. The craving swelled in his chest as he hugged the pillow tighter. A glimmer of your energy flickered inside the honmoon. Abby’s eyes sharpened. Without realising it, he reached out - his clawed finger sinking into the mattress just inches from the glowing thread of your wavelength. That glimmering crimson pulsed over the faint blue. He grinned. Leaning forward, he easily cast your line into his shadow, the dying blue and vibrant red of your link illuminating his face. His sharper teeth gleamed. Abby growled in approval, "My small, precious human..." he murmured, nuzzling his nose into the line, pressing his cheek against it as your wavelength trembled. Seconds later, the device Juni called a “phone” began ringing on his nightstand. Lazily rising, Abby leaned over, using one hand to balance himself while the other reached for the phone. The moment he saw your name on the screen, his grin deepened. Satisfaction pulsed through him as he accepted the call. He purposely lowered his voice, making it gravelly - like he’d just woken up. “What’s up...” “Abby?” Your voice was soft, startled, like you were rudely awakened by something. He hummed deeply in response, shifting on the bed so his feet touched the floor. He could hear you moving around in the background too, still disoriented. “Ah—sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you…” “No, no,” he replied gently. “You called. Did something happen?” He added a slight rasp, pretending to wake himself up for you. You yawned, which made him chuckle as he stood and stretched his shoulders, muscles flexing. “No, nothing really. Just… do you think I—” He cut you off smoothly, already halfway to his closet. “Want me to come get you, sweet thing?” There was a pause on your end as he pulled on a random shirt. As soon as he put the phone back to his ear, your answer poured out, soft and almost drowsy. “…Please.” That one word was all he needed. Abby's grin stretched wider. Your voice sounded fuzzy, affected by the pull of the honmoon - probably a side effect of him tampering with it earlier. Nothing dangerous. Just made it a little easier for him. Especially if your wavelength was already weakened by their influence on you.

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Mystery Saja

🐶 Mystery was the only one among the others who was genuinely curious about the human world - in the way a scientist might be fascinated by their test subjects. A curiosity that wasn’t driven by affection or sentimentality, but by the cold, sharp edge of analysis.

🐶 That same curiosity had granted him rare insight into human behaviour. And comparing it to the era he hailed from? Mystery often wondered if he’d been born on an entirely different planet.

🐶 One of the more puzzling subjects he studied was the human desire to bond. Or more accurately - the innate need to form multiple, meaningful connections with others.

🐶 Okay… but so what? You already had Romance, with whom you could talk endlessly about new trends. Abby, who behaved like an oversized golden retriever, constantly dragging you around the city and showing you places even you - a human who lived around here - didn’t know existed. You had Juni, who could pass as the most "normal" out of all of them and offered you the kind of grounded interaction humans seemed to crave. And Baby, who teased you endlessly until you smacked him with a pillow and he cackled like it was his reward.

🐶 You even had a good rapport with Tiger and Magpie, who you adored taking on nightly walks on which Mystery tended to tag along.

🐶 And he had given you everything a human partner could possibly want. Warm meals, stimulating conversation, the kind of scorching pleasure that left you trembling - your pleas for more eventually turning into breathless gasps begging him to slow down before you could faint.

🐶 So please. Enlighten him again how meeting these random strays was more important than spending time with him, while he read, and you used him like your personal massage therapist for your feet.

“There are not strays, 'Tery,” you sighed, arms crossed, standing your ground before him. He stood perfectly still, blocking the front door of the apartment he shared with the others. “They’re my cousins.” Mystery blinked once - not that you could see it with his fringe in the way - so he tilted his head slightly instead, the silver earrings on his left ear swaying. “What’s the difference?” You let out a short snort, stepping forward to playfully shove his chest. But Mystery remained unmoved. He couldn’t comprehend how being blood-related made a difference. Related or not, they were still doing the same thing. Taking you away from him. Having to realise that was not a joke, you straightened your posture, running a hand through your hair and said, “Mystery—” Oh no. You said his full name. It wasn't even the real one. It was the name Juni had given him. And yet, somewhere along the way, it had rooted itself into his core so deeply that hearing it from your lips had a startling effect.

Your closeness was even worse. The way you stood there, just a breath away. The possibility of closing that distance— It made shivers spread under his skin. The corners of his mouth twitched, ears straining to catch each syllable that left your lips. “I’ll be back by 5:20,” you said, voice calm, trying to sound reasonable. “Maybe earlier. I don’t know how long they’ll keep me.” You really were sounding logical. But not to him. Mystery didn’t move. A thick silence settled between you as you stared him down, and he stared back through the veil of hair over his eyes. He relished the way your gaze roamed over him, your brows furrowed with concern. Without saying a word, Mystery reached up and gently smoothed the crease between them with his thumb. Your shoulders dropped. You exhaled. “Fiiine,” you groaned, giving him a look. “You can come with.” Good human, he thought, stepping aside and offering his arm. You looped yours through it without protest, and together you left for the café where your strays - your cousins - were waiting. At the café, Mystery immediately picked up on the subtle awkwardness between the strangers and himself. The two you’d introduced as your cousins kept glancing between him and the curious patrons nearby, who were clearly trying to place his face. Hmm. Maybe this wasn’t about you wanting to get away from him. Maybe you were trying to avoid drawing attention? Not that he cared. He adjusted the cap you'd jammed onto his head before leaving the apartment and relaxed into the chair. Now he could casually tell the others that he’d simply taken the opportunity to do “fan outreach.” Humans adored that kind of thing, didn’t they? Idols doing normal things. Going out for disgusting oil-water - what was it called again? Coffee. Romance had explained it to him once with a flair. Something about chic trend and university aesthetic... Whatever.

Mystery barely stifled a sigh when your male cousin awkwardly introduced himself, followed by your female cousin. After that, the conversation mostly flowed between you and them. Meanwhile, Mystery was simply trying not to spit out the moldy tar water in front of him and onto your cousin’s face. You said it wouldn’t take long - and thankfully, it didn’t. The two cousins had places to be. Finally outside in the fresh air, Mystery nodded at the male who returned it, a polite bow exchange with the female - and then they hugged you one by one, flashing bright smiles as they said goodbye and left behind their stench on your clothes. Mystery watched with idle disinterest… until you turned toward him with a bright smile and started walking. Without missing a beat, he fell into step beside you, his movements effortless. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he slid his arm around your waist, drawing you closer with practiced ease. “'Tery,” you hissed, startled, your head twisting as if to check whether your cousins were still nearby. “What if they—?” Before you could finish, his hand slid up from your waist to your back and finally settled on the back of your neck. He gently tilted your head forward, voice soft and steady, “No worries. They’re already gone.” You checked him for reassurance, and upon seeing his relaxed smile, you finally eased up, trusting him entirely. As you leaned into his side, Mystery kept his hand on the back of your neck - his fingers slowly kneading the base. Casually, he lifted his other hand to fix his hair, as he hooked few fingers under the strands of his fringe, letting them part as he subtly turned his head to the side, revealing one of his eyes. Sky blue, rimmed with glowing gold - until, in a blink, the gold swallowed the colour whole. His pupil narrowed into a sharp horizontal slit as his gaze locked onto your cousins. They were now frozen in place, lingering by the café entrance. He let them see it. The flash of inhuman sharpness in his smile. The knowing glint. He let it linger just long enough for their wavelengths in the honmoon to spike in alarm before he blinked, his eyes returning to their human form as he turned, letting his fringe fall back into place, Without another glance back, he walked leisurely beside you, pleased with the phantom of their fear still dancing at the edge of his senses like static. Mystery drank it all. And oh, how sweet it was.

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Romance Saja

🌹 Romance would proudly say it aloud: he didn’t understand the word jealousy.

🌹 He’d only first heard of it when he’d tagged along to the human world with the others. Baby had been grumbling about how absurdly jealous their fans could get, muttering it with a dramatic eye-roll. When Romance asked what the word meant, the younger demon had stared at him flatly, gave a shrug, and went back to chewing his gum. He waved him off lazily with, “Ask Fringy, I heard it from those shitty movies he watches. ” That word had piqued Romance’s interest. So, naturally, he went to Mystery as Baby had advised him.

🌹 Mystery didn’t bother answering directly. He simply set aside the book he’d been obsessing over, rising from the couch in one slow, fluid motion. Without a word, he drifted over to his beloved bookshelf - the one Romance secretly admired for its intricate, hand-carved detailing - and retrieved a hefty, leather-bound volume. Returning to him, Mystery opened it on some page, tapped a single word with one painted finger, and said coolly, “Read.”

🌹 Romance blinked at him, raised a brow at the demon's tone, then shrugged and did as told. A moment passed - and then he wheezed out a sudden burst of laughter, clutching his stomach as he tried not to choke on how own spit. Mystery, unfazed, simply straightened. With his usual calmness, he closed the book, returned it to its shelf, and without a single glance back, strolled wordlessly to his room, shutting the door with a soft but final click - leaving Romance in the midst of his hysterical laughter.

🌹 What a ridiculous term! Only self-pitying, bone-dry beings with not an ounce of self-respect could feel "angwy" over something they didn’t have and wished to possess. For what? To feel better?

🌹 Oh, honey~ If you feel miserable without it, you’ll still feel miserable even with it. To Romance, jealousy became just another made-up human excuse - an elegant little lie to mask their fear of revealing their true beauty. Easier to envy others than to honour one’s own shine he guessed.

🌹 He shook his head, the corners of his lips lifting into a pitying smile. Truly pitiful. And that’s exactly what made humans so very entertaining.

It was late into the night, and with nothing better to do - everything already set and ready - Abs had declared a Monopoly match. Now, they were all gathered around the coffee table in the living room. Juni was subtly stealing from the "bank," deep in debt to Abby, who was somehow winning - though even the big guy himself didn’t seem to realise it. Mystery’s section was the most organised; he had to keep pushing up his fringe, revealing glimpses of his sculpted face and paralysing eyes - eyes Romance often claimed were more brilliant than diamonds - as he squinted at the fine print on the cards, just in case. He didn’t seem to notice Baby quietly stealing from him… again. The youngest demon among them always somehow landing in jail. Romance hoped it wasn't some future sign. He, on the other hand, was also losing, apparently. But he didn’t care. He was far more invested in choosing the more aesthetically pleasing structures on the board that he could buy. They were waiting for Mystery to roll the dice when Romance’s ears twitched at the soft sound of his door opening. He looked up just as you stepped out, dressed in an eye-catching outfit - comfortably casual, yet still striking enough to turn heads and leave people wondering if you were even real. Pride swelled in Romance’s chest. The entire ensemble was one he’d picked out for you. With an approving nod, he turned back to the board. Mystery seemed to be deciding whether to use the card in his hand now or later, causing everyone except Romance to glare at him impatiently. Naturally, the demon was unbothered. Romance heard your footsteps approach and, knowing exactly why, he straightened. Tipping his head back, he smiled just as your gentle fingers lifted his chin and your lips brushed the corner of his mouth. Neither of you paid any mind to the eyes now locked on you - nor to Juni’s dramatic gagging, which earned him a shove from Abby - or the loud pop of gum before Baby scoffed, “Disgusting,” and turned back to the board. Romance wasn’t even sure Mystery could see - his fringe was so rich it was practically a curtain. Not that Romance cared; all his attention was on the angel standing above him.

You smiled softly down at him. “I’ll be out with some of my friends and their acquaintances. Should be back around eleven.” Romance hummed, flashing a dazzling smile. “Enjoy the night, darling. Don’t be cheap on yourself,” he said with a lilting, playful tone, then turned back to the game, perfectly content - though he noted your gaze lingered. When it didn’t shift, and neither did you, he eventually looked up. The other guys had stared at him too - besides Mystery who finally rolled the dice. Romance tilted his head at you, curious. “Yes, love? Something the matter? Do you want to borrow one of my pieces of jewellery, is that it?” he asked earnestly, clearly confused by your startled expression. There was a pause - just the two of you in your own pocket of silence - before you shook your head quickly and gave a hesitant smile. “N-No! No need. Thank you for the offer though,” you said, bowing gratefully before flashing him a radiant grin. “Enjoy your night!” Romance returned it with one of his own, lifting his hand to wave as he watched you leave. “You shall too, my lovely darling!”

<><><>

Baby Saja

🍼 Baby never understood the whole concept of jealousy. He always squinted suspiciously whenever he saw one of those people inside the magic box Juni told them humans called the “TV.” A box Mystery had grown as attached to as he was to his stupid books.

🍼 With nothing else to do today, Baby had two equally terrible options: Be dragged to some human food chain by Romance and Abby like Juni had - relegated to “human translator” duty for demons - or sit in his room while Mystery sat through one of him movie marathons on that box, volume turned low... which, for Baby’s hearing, may as well have been blaring at full blast.

🍼 He had zero intention of venturing out alone. No need to provoke the huntresses any more than they already had. They knew what he and the others were, and Baby didn’t feel like fighting - not with his brain still aching from today’s string of stupid shows designed to entertain the masses like they were circus animals. Baby swore Gwi-Ma was punishing him twice for his human sins.

🍼 So, he ended up sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, arms loosely draped over his knees, while Mystery’s attention remained glued to the humans on-screen. The female protagonist had just spotted the male lead talking - laughing, even - with another woman after getting a message from the male that morning that he would be busy. The girl’s face twisted. She marched into the café, called him a player, and dumped his own drink over his head.

🍼 Baby narrowed his eyes, unimpressed, and bit into the lollipop in his mouth. “What the shit...” he muttered, gesturing vaguely at the screen. “Why not just talk to the guy instead of pulling a tantrum like a brat?”

🍼 He leaned back with a grimace. Even as a demon, he was rooting for the male lead to ditch her. “Man... just give up and take the other chick,” he muttered, rotating the lollipop stick slowly between his fingers. “Humans are fascinating...” Mystery said, voice flat and unreadable. Baby snorted, smirking. “Sure they are. Can’t even think rationally.”

🍼 The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood up - his instincts prickling. He could feel Mystery’s gaze drilling into him. Unable to ignore it, Baby snapped his head around and glared up at his senior. “What?”. Mystery tilted his head slightly. “We were once humans, too.” Baby scoffed, turning back to the screen. “Yeah, and? Look where our rationality got us,” he muttered, biting down sarcastically on the word.

🍼 With nothing else to add, the two demons lapsed into companionable silence, watching as the male protagonist ran after the girl with the temper tantrum. Baby’s canines lengthened unconsciously, piercing through the candy in his mouth. Pathetic, he thought.

Baby didn’t even know how the fuck he got here. It started with Abby hyping up some “amazing BBQ chain” on the outskirts of the city - and ended with all five of them sitting in one of the private cars, courtesy of the industry that scouted them after that godawful “Soda Pop” song. Baby still shuddered at the memory. That song was a fucking curse. If any lesser demon so much as whispered it near him- He huffed and slouched deeper into his seat, pulling out the "phone". Your chat log stared back at him: a single cat sticker, a cheery “Good morning!” and a short I’ll be busy today. That same moment, Baby had immediately messaged back asking, Busy with what?, reacting to the sticker with a sun emoji. You hadn’t read it yet. “Tch.” Whatever. Baby brushed it off like he brushed off the growing void in his chest - and the saliva pooling in his mouth. The urge to devour your soul was stronger than usual. He figured even his demon body was getting impatient to blend with you already. Soon, he thought, lips quirking into a smile. That was enough to earn a suspicious glance from Abby, who immediately commented that he looked “creepy.” So Baby chucked his phone at his face. It nearly escalated into a full-blown brawl, if not for Mystery and Juni unleashing just enough demonic aura to force the two of them to sit back down. Baby hated that he couldn’t fight back properly without risking his head getting sliced off. His body would regenerate - eventually -but sitting around bodyless for hours was a major buzzkill. Now, they were trailing behind Mystery, who’d been told to “smell out” the BBQ spot since none of them knew how to use phones beyond the bare minimum. And even that had taken months of trial and error. Romance was banned from dialling the emergency number after he’d used it for every minor inconvenience, so they wouldn't get locked up even before the mission could start. So as they followed the demon bloodhound through the streets, Baby came to a sudden stop. His droopy eyes, widened. He felt it - a faint tremble in the air. Your wavelength. His skin buzzed. Instinctively, his hand reached out to grasp it, only to recoil with a snarl as the huntresses' protection burned his palm.

Fucking nuisance. The fact that you were still untouched by demonic influence - still holding strong even after getting closer to him - set Baby’s teeth on edge. It made him boil. He wanted nothing more than to go head-to-head with those three bitches and rip apart whatever invisible leash was tied around you. All so he could feel your line clinging to him without restraint. While the others continued walking, Baby peeled away from the group, scanning his surroundings. The honeymoon wave meant you were either nearby or you lived on this specific street. And no - he was pretty sure you didn’t live out here. He followed the trace across the road, dodging pedestrians, until he came to a halt. There you were. Sitting inside a café. Laughing. With some rando. You were perched on a bar stool beside them, hands cradling a cup as you spoke, giggled, playfully nudged the other - and received a shove back followed by more laughter. Baby’s lip curled, a low growl escaping him. His eyes narrowed. Is this what that female protagonist felt? Fuck no. He didn’t have pathetic self-pitying thoughts. He was untouchable. He didn’t need validation. He knew he was great. No, what Baby felt wasn’t that flimsy human brand of jealousy. This was something far more primal. An urge. To walk straight through the café doors, wedge himself between you and that leech, threaten them without saying a word, and drag you out of there. Just because your time - your presence - belonged to him. Relaxing into the sensation, Baby smirked to himself. Adjusting the bucket hat shielding some of his features from rabid fans, he casually strolled toward the café. The cashier greeted him. He ignored it. Each step he took was precise. Measured. Confident in a predatory grace wrapped in an attractive human shell. His boots clacked sharply against the wood flooring, but you didn’t hear him. The ambient café noise covered his approach, and your back was turned - attention fully on the leech across from you. The leech, however, did see him. And instead of meeting ordinary human eyes like they had to expect, they met glowing gold, shadowed under the brim of his hat. Pupils slitted in sharp attention. Baby tilted his head, lips peeling into a smile far too wide, sharp canines flashing. The leech flinched hard, nearly falling off the stool. That finally got your attention. You whipped around with an adorable little glare, ready to scold whoever scared your friend- Only to find yourself face to face with Baby. Silver-blue eyes blinked innocently. Calm expression. Head tilted owlishly as if he were the one surprised to see you.

[merrybloomwrites]

When The Wolves Come Out (Chapter 11)

Story Summary: When Y/N gets hired to play drums for One Direction, the last thing she expects is to find herself as part of their pack. Especially since it seems that they don’t want her there. Only time will tell if they’ll accept her, or if the omega will have to deal with rejection from the others.

Chapter Summary: The post concert incident leads to a situation you never saw coming.

Word Count: 2.1K

CW/tags: omega verse, omega reader, alpha Harry, alpha Zayn, alpha Louis, beta Niall, beta Liam, poly, omega drop

Previous chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

AN: Thought of another twist and couldn’t resist adding it. Sorry 🙃

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Two hours.

That’s how long you remain in the drop. Two long hours, during which you’re unaware of what’s happening around you.

After placing you carefully in Zayn’s arms, Louis distances himself, leaving the back room and heading to the small kitchenette in the front of the bus so that his current emotions won’t negatively affect you. He trusts Harry and Zayn to remain calm and take care of you. Niall stays with you as well.

It’s Liam who follows the alpha, wondering what’s wrong, unaware of what happened.

“Lou,” the beta says cautiously. “What’s going on?”

“There was an alpha,” Louis growls. “Cornered her. Made advances. I could feel her fear. And he just- He wouldn’t let her go.”

“But you got there in time?”

“Yes.”

“And then she dropped?”

“No.”

“Louis-”

“The fans. The people who say they love us. They were out there shouting horrible comments at her. Calling her all sorts of horrible things. I don’t understand how they could be so cruel. It was all just too much. Y/N dropped right before we got on the bus. I stayed calm but I am enraged. I want to go back out there and rip that alphas throat out. And. Well obviously I don’t want to hurt the fans. But it would feel nice to yell at them. Tell them how hurtful they were being.”

Liam doesn’t say anything, processing the situation while Louis continues to pace and wear out his angry energy. Finally, the alpha flops onto a chair, letting out a loud sigh.

“I want to keep her safe,” he says softy.

“You did. You did everything you could. Got her away from the alpha. Got her back to the bus. There’s not much any of us can do about unruly fans. Think we figured that out a while ago,” Liam says.

“I know. I got used to whatever they threw at us. But I hate it being directed at her. She doesn’t deserve that. She’s being called names because of us. It’s not right.”

Slowly, carefully, Liam kneels on the ground next to Louis. The older man places a hand on the other's neck, a position that brings them both comfort. For the alpha, it’s a safe way to express dominance, allowing Louis to gain a sense of control. The beta finds it comforting, his alpha accepting and caring for him.

They stay that way until Niall walks in and says, “Lou, the others are asking for you.”

“Y/N’s up?” Louis asks, his voice hopeful.

“Sorry, no. Not yet. Zayn and Harry want to talk to you,” Niall answers.

With a nod and one final squeeze to the beta, Louis gets up. Niall stops him as he passes, pulling him in for a quick reassuring kiss. It soothes the alpha enough that he’s calm when he gets back to you.

Harry has you in his lap now, and Zayn is rubbing his wrist against yours, using the glands there to help douse you in his scent.

The two men look up as Louis enters, and he asks, “How is she?”

“Calm,” Harry answers. “She was a little restless at first but she’s better now. I think she’s past the fear and into the resting and refreshing stage of the drop.”

“Good. That’s good. Niall said that you wanted to talk to me?”

“We’re worried,” Zayn states. “This isn’t good for her health. Mental or physical.”

“I know.”

“What do we do?” Harry asks.

“That I don’t know,” Louis replies. “Let’s just finish the last couple of shows. Maybe during the break she can see a doctor, talk to a therapist, figure out if there’s anything that can help her handle this type of career.”

“You think going to a doctor is going to help stop alphas being creeps and fans being rude?” Zayn asks, a touch of accusation in his voice.

“No of course not! We can’t control the actions of other people, but we can increase security to keep her safe.”

They sit in silence and Louis quietly adds. “We’ll figure this out. It might take some work, but, we’ll just, we’ll figure it out.”

He wishes he could explain it better, but honestly he’s exhausted. It’s the middle of the night, he’s stressed and tired, the bus is moving in a rocking motion that makes him just want to lay down and sleep. But he can’t. Not until you come up and he’s sure you’re okay.

A few minutes later you breathe a deep sigh, so different from the even breaths of the last two hours that they all turn to watch you. Slowly you begin to shift until finally your eyes open.

“Hey there,” Zayn says. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. What time is it?”

“Early morning, nearly 2,” Harry replies.

“Great. I’m going to sleep,” you state.

“I’m sure you’re exhausted,” Louis says. “Should we all lay down here?”

“No, I’m going to my bunk,” you reply, confusing the others. They honestly can’t remember the last time you slept in your bunk, always back here with at least one other pack member. But they don’t stop you, letting you stand, reaching out just in case you’re a little unsteady. You ignore the arms outstretched towards you and head to the bathroom before crawling into your bunk.

You don’t sleep, instead laying there and listening to the others all make their way to their own bunks. Your mind is busy, swirling with thoughts of what happened earlier and the conversation you had overheard as you came up from your drop.

What had happened after the concert was bad enough. But the alphas thinking you need medical attention? Therapy?

So they do think you’re weak. That something is wrong with you. And they’re probably right. You love performing, but you have to admit, there are other ways to live. Ones that won’t leave you drained, constantly running on empty. Maybe it’s time for a career change.

You’re sure the boys would support you; they care about you and your health. It might take some extra planning, but it could probably work.

With a potential solution in mind you feel better. There are only a few days left of the tour. You can make it through that and then figure things out from there.

You eventually fall asleep thinking that everything will be okay.

You’re less sure of that when you wake up to an email telling you that you’ll be meeting with Simon Cowell. Face to face, one on one. It’ll be the first time you’re meeting him like this since your first day on the job months ago. This time you truly have no idea what to expect.

When the boys ask where you are going you reply, “To a meeting.” And when they ask for details you just say, “Not sure. Probably a performance review or discussion of my contract since the tour is ending.”

You leave the bus and enter the car that’s waiting for you. Thankfully Paul is driving you, so you have a friendly face. It’s a short drive and soon you arrive at an office building. Following the instructions you’ve been given, you make your way inside and upstairs.

It’s weird sitting across a desk from Simon again. The energy is not good, and your anxiety starts to rise.

“I’m going to say something that I don’t often say,” he begins. You don’t answer, instead watching him expectantly.

“I made a mistake. I thought bringing you in would be a help to the boys. But unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be happening.”

Now you’re confused.

“But it has been good for them. They’ve learned how to care for an omega, care about me. They’ve really opened up and I’ve seen them grow.”

“And that’s all well and good. But unfortunately, adding you to the band, and to the pack, will be a detriment to their careers.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Ratings are suffering. People are leaving the fandom. With you there, they no longer get to imagine it will be them that’s chosen to be the final piece of One Direction. The boys are no longer desirable. You are hurting their career. Everything they’ve worked towards.”

It knocks the air out of you. Because it makes sense. The fans were angry last night. They hate you. Having you there is dragging the boys down.

And who are you to wreck the empire they’ve spent years creating? How selfish would you be if you let your feelings destroy all the time and energy they’ve put into this band?

“You understand, don’t you?”

“I do,” you reply in a quiet voice.

“So you understand why I'm not offering you a new contract after this one ends on Friday?”

“Yes.”

“And why it would be in everyone’s best interest if you broke off your relationship?”

Finding it hard now to breathe, you just nod yes to show you understand.

“I know this will be difficult, but it’s the right choice. Here is your new flight information. You’ll be traveling back to New Jersey on Saturday morning. Your belongings will be shipped to you. Do you need us to arrange a car home from the airport?”

“No. I’ll call someone.”

“Excellent. Contact Ryan if you have any questions about the logistics.”

You nod once again.

“Y/N, it has been a pleasure working with you. Truly, you are a very talented drummer. If you ever need a reference for a new job please reach out and we will happily recommend you.”

“Thank you,” you hear yourself say.

In a daze you make your way back to the car.

“Is there any way I can stop at a cafe or something? I could use a little time before going back to the bus,” you ask Paul.

“Of course. There’s one a couple blocks away,” he says and begins driving. Once there he comes in with you, but gives you space, just remaining nearby to keep an eye on you.

On auto pilot, you order a coffee and find a seat in a back corner, needing some time alone to think through everything. One thing is for sure. You will do anything to protect the boys. You want them to be happy and successful. As painful as it will be, you know that leaving is the best choice.

But you can’t do a goodbye. Maybe that’s selfish, but you know they’ll fight you on this decision. That they’ll beg you to stay. And that will just hurt you more.

You pull out the notebook and pen you always keep in your bag and begin to write. A letter may never truly capture everything you want to say to them, but this is the best you can think to do. When you finish writing you somehow feel better, and also one hundred times worse. Reality sinks in. You’re leaving. In just a few days, you’ll separate from them for good.

But you still have a few days. And no one is stopping you from enjoying them, soaking in the last bit of time you have. So you put a smile on your face and head over to Paul, asking him to take you back to the bus.

Of course, the next few days fly by. The concerts are amazing, and you mourn the fact that you won’t be performing again. At least, not for a while. You have no idea when you’ll get to be back on stage, if ever. And that’s just another reason why this whole situation sucks.

There’s a party after the final show, and you lower your inhibitions, dancing the night away with the boys. Back at the hotel you all pile in bed, exchanging heated kisses. If things were different, this would be the night you’d go all the way with them.

But you can’t do that. Not to them, since you’d feel like you were using them. And not to yourself. You can’t open yourself up, experience what it’d be like to truly connect with them, only to leave them the next day. Better not to know what you’re missing out on.

You barely sleep, not wanting to miss a moment of the little time you have left. You sneak items from each of them into your bag, knowing you’ll want their scents around for at least a little while to ease the pain.

All too soon, the sun starts to rise and it’s time for you to leave. Carefully, so gently as to not wake anyone, you lean and press a kiss to each of them. Before you can even comprehend what this means, you quickly grab your bags and force yourself out of the room, leaving behind the people you love, and the future you thought you had.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Honestly, who wrote this angst, because I didn’t even know I could write angst but this just flowed out in about 2 hours total

taglist: @luxiorchive

[starcurtain]

I think that Sethos's hangout should be three routes of him unintentionally wingmanning and/or awkwardly third-wheeling the other couples in Sumeru, one round of the sickest lore bomb drop since Caribert, and then a final route of nothing but pure, unadulterated SethoScara fan bait that has absolutely zero connection to anything else in the game.

Sethos, Wanderer, and Mini Durin go on a Deshret ruins adventure entirely of their own, where Traveler just accidentally intersects them, and there's not a single explanation given for how they got to the level of companionship that involves taking long desert retreats together. Sethos spends the entire time trying to offer Wanderer increasingly comedically bad advice on his thesis because Cyno is rubbing off on him. There is only one tent.

It is presented entirely without comment from the devs.

Everyone moves on like Sethos and Wanderer have been married since 3.4.

There's an entire slew of confused complaints on Hoyo social media about how Sethos and Wanderer's "strange friendship" came entirely out of nowhere, but everyone in the comments just gaslights the posters by pretending Sethos was in sidequests all the way back at the start of Sumeru.

This is how I get us back onto the better timeline, guys, trust.

[vigilskeep]

me and the 4 other da2 fans have been in a drought when will keir return from ostagar

every week i play ostagar again with a new warden and he has to go through that again because he’s also there. sort of a time loop situation . sad really

[chill-vibes-but-rainbow-panic]

Asky gamo: https://www.tumblr.com/chill-vibes-but-rainbow-panic/756389448749547520

Characters:

5 for everyone's favourite theatre gay, Dante Vernon

6 for Theo

21/22 (pick one) for Leila

✨Bonus Characters✨:

For both Flim and Flam 24

Ik at one point you said that you've read the Giver, so 4 for Jonas if you remember anything abt it

1 for Darkwing Duck

let the paragraphs begin!/j

Characters <3 (OG Ask Game)

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

(This is going to be a paragraph be prepared)

So first of, Darkwing's honestly just really funny. He is the smartest idiot you'll ever meet (The 'breadcrumb on the bridge' scene lives rent free in my head iykyk). He has such a based disguise, but somehow also no swag (at least three villainesseses have fallen for him regardless). He survives purely out of luck and children's-cartoon-protagonist-powers. He saves lives every night and no one respects him. His name is Male Duck. THE character of all time

Also, Darkwing has quite...interesting morals. Like, he isn't gonna kill people, but he also doesn't really care, if they just so happen to die (this is canon) He's also incredibly self-absorbed, to the point it can interfere with how he interacts with other people (though he's also masking his insecurities and trauma, which on that note, I'm a sucker for a sad backstory), but that doesn't mean he doesn't care

With that said, MAN Darkwing CARES. That man got a family in the span of one day, and was immeditaely ready to die for them. Even if he can be clouded by his own ego, he loves Launchpad, and he loves Gosalyn, and he loves being a hero, and he loves being a dad, and he loves being a friend His interactions with Nega-Gosalyn uhwefiohusdf you can not expect me to be normal about that! I will never shut up about Darkly Dawns the Duck, or Steerminator, or Crisis of Infinite Darkwings, I simply can't Not even mentioning the fact that, after years off being completely absorbed into his hero-identity and completely shutting himself of from society, Launchpad is the first person he trusts so completely, he reveals his identity to him. He doesn't just let him into his life as a sidekick, but explicitly as a member of his new family

But (and this is prob one of my favourite tropes any superhero-media can do ever), Darkwing is also shown to care about his villains, though more so in the comics, than the show Of course - one of my favourites - "Dawn of the Day of the Return of the Living Spud". When Darkwing decides to call Bushroot by his first name, to just completely level with him as a person. The situation requires urgency and action, but he knows why Reginald can't do it. He has seen how far that man was willing to go for company, he knows how lonely he is. Darkwing can't force him, so he reasons with him, because Bushroot is not imcapable of being reasoned with. And then even once Posey has already been defeated, and so the stakes are no longer there, Darkwing checks up on him again. He obviously cares about how Reggie is feeling after this. Because while he might think the entire potato-wife-plan was crazy, he can understand how important it was to Bushroot, and how he was forced to kill the only living being he thought came close to being like him

Then there's of course also the entire thing with Quackerjack in "Toy with Me", and Claire humbling him with the idea that Quackerjack (and villains in general), are people beyond what Darkwing sees them as. And while he unfortunately never really got the chance to talk it out with QJ, both times Darkwing had that moment of "trust me, I get it" (For Bushroot it was the loneliness, for QJ wanting to be better than everyone else) And characters like Darkwarrior Duck prove that Darkwing is not above becoming a villain himself, if the circumstances were right. It shows that - to an extent ofc - being a villain or not depends on luck, and is not some unavoidable destiny In some aspects, he's not all too different from them

I love Darkwing Duck, I know that may not have been obvious /j

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

I'm sure this also exists internationally, though I'm not sure to which extent, but here in Germany there's a pretty well-known children's book series called "Conni"

Most of these books are just about a young Conni either expieriencing new things for the first time and learning about them, or learning how to deal with new emotions

And while Jonas is definitely older than Conni is in most of these books:

1. I'm pretty sure if I take Jonas out of his "squeeky-clean" and organized society and put him in anything with too much action, he will explode

2. Because of the whole 'discovering new memories' thing, I think Jonas would actually quite profit from and enjoy learning about all these "mundane" things with Conni. He'd basically just get to have a semi-normal childhood

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

At first I was a little stumped at this one, but then it hit me like a truck

I Deserve to Bleed, by Sushi Soucy

That man carries so much guilt and blame within himself, he is Not Okay. He still blamed mostly himself after Kalagan blew up his home

I truly believe that after everything he did in the books, if Kalagan had abandoned his plan even a little early, and made up with Dante, he would have accepted it in a heartbeat, because he was so haunted by his actions, he would have done anything to get back what he once had

"Sympathy and love, we can extent to someone else But it's harder, when you have to love yourself"

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

Oh, I should really re-read the books somewhen. I do have to admit, I don't remember that much about Theo, unfortunately (minus his arcs in the third book, but I have opinions about how those were handled by the plot)

Though from the things I do remember, his "secret" in the fourth book sticks out the most to me. The fact that he keeps thinking about his dove a lot, and tries to imagine what he could have done better I'm also someone who tends to overthink on past scenarios, and how they could have been handled better/differently, especially if I think, I could have fault in said situation

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

I have yet to actually write a proper MM-Fic tbh, so I'm using this oppurtunity to talk about Good Uncle Sly a little bit

Because as I have said once before, I'd like the Kalagans to connect with the Misfits a little bit, using something that they share (for Theo it's family expectations, Ridley using caution and distrust in order to keep people safe, etc.) For him and Leila, I would get them to connect over their respective times in the orphanage. Because no one in these books who went to an orphanage came out alright (/lh)

So I guess, in one way or another, you could say I like writing a bit more about Leila's trauma. I think trauma exploration in characters is always fun

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

I've mentioned this before in passing, but definitely Kilroy and Kincaid, but also Olly and Izzy

Like, Flim and Flam are not evil! At best, they're mean. The worst thing they did imo, was sell fake medicine, otherwise they're just petty scammers and jerks (and in their very first appearance, they weren't even scammers, technically!). But they are very much still schemy business boys

But of course, they have this inherent togetherness. It is literally baked into their characters, looking at their cutie marks; like, those boys were never gonna go off and each do their own thing Like honestly? The whole thing Kincaid does, where he turns himself in to be with his brother, because there is no way to get him out? I could see Flim and Flam doing that

Though I'm throwing Olly and Izzy in here too, because the Kalagans are just slightly missing the very important showman-ship aspect Flim and Flam have. Like don't get me wrong, they are magicians, and they put on "shows", when they rob people. But the way the Goldens perform is just a lot more reminiscent, of how Flim and Flam do it, especially when it comes to overall energy and vibe. You could throw all four of them into the same routine, and they would ace it. Also, both of them are rocking the Barbershop-Quartet fit; straw hats and striped jackets and all

And lastly, they are of course all rocking the Identical Twin Swag (well, Olly and Izzy are fraternal ig, but you get what I mean :P )

Thank you so much for the ask, Shadow! :D

[spearxwind]

btw if you sent an ask or a DM in the past few weeks and I havent gotten to it yet i am so sorry but it may still be a hot minute until i do due to irl stuff + my mental health

dont worry im doing fine ive just been heavily prioritizing irl stuff and i have accidentally let DMs and such build up so I will try to pick away at them when the hectic weeks stop coming

[kxllerblond]

Happy Tuesday everyone, I will now be unloading unsolicited opinions about the RPC.

People take 'This is a hobby!!' way too far to the point you are not taking into account other real people also exist and are only thinking about yourself and it can come across as scummy and self-absorbed and a lot of people use the 'just a hobby!' to excuse this shitty behavior and an inability to communicate with other hobby enjoyers like adults.

No one should get mad at people for dropping threads or not being active, but it's also super shitty to just ghost people and go 'teehee just a hobby so you aren't allowed to be upset!'. Like, yeah, you have limited time and a real life but so does?? everyone else on here?? It's super not cool to just invalidate people who are upset their limited time is, in their view, being wasted.

Obviously, I'm not defending people that don't just unfollow or block and move on and who get passive aggro about it all. And I'm also not calling out the people that don't do much but are like PRESENT to some degree even if it's just ooc shitposting.

I mainly mean the people I see who refuse to do threads, to answer asks, to communicate when stuff is being dropped to some degree, to participate and be social in any capacity and then get kinda pissy when no one wants to send them shit anymore. Like you are entitled to exist and participate in this hobby as you see fit....but it is a social hobby. You HAVE to give to get and if people pin you as someone who only takes, they're going to stop giving. None of us have little meow meows that are so interesting that we can just expect people to frolic to them and gush about them and shower them with interaction without some sort of reciprocation.

And, frankly, I don't think there's room to complain when that happens. You can't have your cake and eat it too in this scenario. You can 'this is just a hobby!' your way through things how you like, but you also have to realize the consequences of that and you can't be upset when they come down on you and your blog.

[yuumei-art]

First, I want to address the rumors that I used AI to paint A Thousand Skies. Here is a condensed version of the 10 part video recording of how I painted everything. I normally reserve the full hours long video recordings for my patrons but here they are in case there is still any doubt https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1d-3hxjZWROiZPaI8XeU93cKBBKB1Gz9Z?usp=drive_link

All of my past paintings have full video recordings for my Patrons, going back to 2018 when I first got a Patreon.

Long time followers will also know that I care deeply about the environment, not only in the themes of my art but also in my actions to the best of my ability and knowledge. So much so that every year since 2016, I’ve donated 100% of my Black Friday sales to environmental charities, and you can see all the receipts of the organizations I donated to here https://www.yuumeiart.com/blog 

I realized a comment I’ve made at 2am and while sleep deprived was confusing. I want to clear up the misunderstandings from yesterday's post where I said AI isn’t that bad for the environment. I thought I was specifically answering the question of how much energy it takes to generate 1 AI image on my own computer without any servers, but I realize now that people were talking about how much energy it takes to train AIs by big companies. This was not what I was trying to refer to in my comment, but I recognize it is one of many legitimate concerns with the way current generative AI is developed.

I want to reiterate that I did use AI for a gag scene in my comic—the character, Vance, was objectifying women by seeing them as anime cat girls and pasting them over AI backgrounds. I thought that such a character having AI goggles was making a point. I recognize that regardless of the context, the use of AI carries other ramifications. I will be taking all of this into consideration with my future artwork.

I know AI art is a very heated issue with very real concerns attached to its use. I don’t expect people to change their minds. I will continue to make art as I always have for the past 2 decades before AI existed, and continue to make available to my patrons full video recordings of the paintings I’ve made and will make. Thank you.

[kyri45]

A final letter

Hello Everyone!

The queue is paused and everything is scheduled, which means we are ready for the finale!

I know that, in the end, this was just a silly side project for me, with everything else going on in my life. But for this occasion, I wanted to drop some words here and hope they make sense.

I started watching LMK only because a friend told me there was a "Sonadow-coded" ship. I ended up consuming the entire thing in one sitting on July 10th, 2024. At the time, I was still recovering from a bike accident that had left me with a broken right forearm—unable to draw for a little over a month. (I did try drawing with my left finger, but it wasn't exactly fun.)

Not only that, but it was summer, and I couldn’t enjoy the season or practice my main sport, windsurfing. To say I was feeling the blues is an understatement. I remember being in physical pain just from not being able to draw my sillies. But then, watching LMK did something to my brain chemistry that my little undiagnosed autistic self had never experienced before. It hit so hard that I’ve been physically unable to rewatch the show SINCE that very first day. (And y’all still call me the CEO of this fandom. Bro, I just work here.)

A lot of you have asked what inspired me to start this comic or to draw LMK fan art in the first place. While my usual answer is, "I saw Shadowpeach and thought MK could be their lovechild, given his appearance," the moment that actually started it all was THIS ONE—

(I HAD TO REWATCH THIS SCENE TO MAKE THE GIF AND IT HURT ME ON A MOLECOLAR LEVEL)

I have… a thing for characters who discover their entire identity was something else all along. It consumes my thoughts, my dreams, my every waking moment. I live for identity crises, for characters who thought they knew who they were, only to be forced to rediscover themselves, their existence, and their place in the world. If you give me a story where a character has to go through that, I will like it—regardless of how bad the rest of the story is.

Pair that with loads of trauma, daddy issues, the pressure of a legacy, and world-ending stakes, and congrats! Now I’m obsessed, and I will not stop thinking about it for the rest of my days!

At first, my brain just wanted to release some of that energy with a small, four-panel post about the monkeys discovering that MK was technically their kid.

That was supposed to be it.

But since I never seem to learn my lesson, it didn’t stay like that. Because once I started drawing, I just... continued.

And

I

never

stopped.

A lot of you have also asked how I found the motivation to draw so much, to never take a break. Well, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it one last time: I am my number one fan. No matter how much you laughed, cried, screamed, or went feral over this story, I did all of that and more. Because I got to think about the chapters months before they released. I got to daydream about them. I got to watch them come to life—first through sketches, then line art, then dialogue. And finally, I got to witness your reactions and see the incredible creations you made, inspired by my story.

So yeah, in a way, it was almost an addiction. A good addiction. Because, for the first time in my life, I actually understood what loving art means.

I’ve been drawing for ten years, working professionally for five, but I never loved art before. I just liked it because I happened to be good at it. But creating this comic made me understand why artists say, "Oh, I’ve loved drawing since I was a child!" This was the first time I allowed myself to create purely for my own enjoyment. Something I hadn’t had the privilege to do for a long time.

Other than making me feel even more single than I already was, this story somehow also helped me a little with my own family relationships. So yeah. Crazy how the gay monkeys changed my life.

Of course, I never could have predicted how much traction my AU would gain. Man, y’all were really starving to latch onto something this silly. /j

But yeah—thank you. Thank you for sticking around until the end, for having the patience and trust to follow the story even when I made you rage with angst and cliffhangers. (The statement in my bio still stands: I am not responsible for any physical or emotional damage my art has caused.)

I’m absolutely shit at thanking people, or at writing, or at talking in general, honestly. I’m the furthest thing from being good with words, so I hope the final chapter will be enough to show you my gratitude.

Through this story, I met so many wonderful, talented people. I watched as fans across different platforms found each other through memes and fanart of the AU. I saw artists start their own AUs inspired by mine, growing their own communities. I witnessed an explosion of creativity and collaboration through our takeovers. And I laughed along with you all.

And yeah—at its core, this story has always been about love. Whether it’s platonic, sibling, parental, romantic, or whatever the hell Mac and Wukong had going on for millennia.

At its heart, it’s a story about family.

And maybe, in the end… the real family wasn’t just the one in the comic, but the one we’ve found together along the way. 💛

See you all at the finale.

Love you all, freaks /affectionate

Jade

[rafayelxsylusho]

Hello ♥️ I love your fics so much!! 😩 I don’t know if you take requests…but if you do could I request the LADS guys reacting to seeing you without panties on under your dress/skirt? 😈

Ohhhh I really liked this idea.

I'll work on the other three today and post them as soon as I can.

Enjoy!!!

Calebxreader

Rafayelxreader

TW:SMUT

How do the LADS men react when they see you without panties under your skirt/dress Part 1 (Caleb)(Rafayel)

Part 2 (Sylus) Here

Caleb's gaze drifts over to you as you sit across from him at the dinner table, a smile playing on his lips. The aroma of your favorite meal, freshly cooked by his own hands, wafts through the air between you.

"You know, I remember when you used to beg me to make this every week, you'd come running into the kitchen, skipping and laughing, and throw your arms around me until I agreed." His eyes glimmer with a distant memory, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You were so cute back then, so full of life and energy. I could never say no to you."

"You still can't" said Gran, who sits beside him, with a knowing smile. Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she takes a sip of her drink, setting the glass down gently on the white tablecloth.

"You're right, Gran," Caleb agrees, turning his attention back to you. His gaze is intense, a mix of fondness and something darker, more possessive. "I still can't say no to her. Never could."

He picks up his fork to start eating but accidentally pushes his spoon to the floor with his elbow. He leans down, his chair scraping softly against the hardwood floor as he bends to retrieve the fallen spoon under the table. His eyes can't help but wander over your legs. They trail up your calves, over your knees, and come to a sharp halt when he notices something that makes his heart skip a beat. Or rather, the lack of something. His eyes linger for a moment, drinking in the expanse of smooth, tanned thigh that's been revealed by your slightly spread legs.

Straightening up, he sets the spoon on the table, his movements deliberate and slow. There's a new tension in the set of his shoulders, a coiled energy that wasn't there before. As he takes his seat once more, he doesn't meet your eyes right away. Instead, he busies himself with his own plate, cutting into the tender meat with precise, almost angry strokes. But as he lifts his fork to his mouth, his gaze finally meets yours. There's a depth of emotion swirling in those violet eyes, feelings he can barely contain. Desire, possessiveness, a desperate longing that borders on obsession. It's all there, laid bare for you to see.

His grip tightens on the fork, knuckles turning white as he fights the sudden, overwhelming urge to toss it aside. To lean across the table, to take your face in his hands...and claim your mouth with his own.

Caleb's eyes darken with lust as he watches the sensual movement of your throat as you swallow. The sound of your moan, sweet and breathy makes his heart beat against his ribs like a caged animal desperate to break free. "Does it taste as good as you remember? "I made it just the way you like it," he murmurs, leaning forward slightly. "I remember everything about what you like, pipsqueak." His tone is teasing, but there's also something darker on the way he says your old nickname.

"It's delicious Caleb" said Gran, before you had a chance to answer him, breaking the tension between you.

He sits back in his chair, trying to compose himself even as his heart continues to race. He can't let Gran see the true depths of his feelings, the all consuming love and lust that threatens to swallow him whole.

"That's great, Gran," he says, his voice only slightly strained. "I'm glad you both like it." He forces a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Those violet eyes remain focused on you, even as he tries to engage in the conversation.

"Remember when you and Y/n used to fight over the last piece of meat?" Gran asks, a fond smile on her face. "You two were always so competitive, especially when it came to food."

Caleb's smile tightens "Yeah," he says, his eyes never leaving yours. "I always made sure she got the last piece. No matter what." His tone is light, but there's another meaning beneath the words. A promise.

You look over at Gran, a bright smile on your face when you say "Gran, I'm meeting up with a friend tonight. We had plans to go out since friday" You stand up, gathering your dirty dishes and silverware. "I'll just put these in the kitchen and then I should get ready."

Caleb watches, his eyes glued to your every move as you carry your dishes to the kitchen. The sway of your hips, the gentle bounce of your hair with each step...it's all seared into his mind.

He forces himself to turn to Gran, to keep up the pretense of a normal conversation. But his mind is elsewhere, already conjuring up a dozen ways he could stop you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caleb stands in your doorway, his tall frame filling the space. His hair is still slightly damp from a recent shower. His arms are crossed over his broad chest as he watches you get ready. His eyes follow your every movement, from the way you brush your long black hair, to the quick application of makeup.

"Did you forget," he says, his voice low and slightly accusatory, "that you had to do the dishes and I had to do the cooking?"

He steps into your room, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, sound. The space suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker, with his presence dominating every inch of it.  He reaches out and plucks the hairbrush from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. "Here," he says softly, holding the brush. "Let me help you finish getting ready."

You look up at Caleb, a flicker of annoyance in your eyes as you take the hairbrush from his hand. "I didn't forget," you say, your voice a bit sharp. "I just got distracted. Besides, I thought you had more important things to do than keep track of whose turn it is to do the dishes." You turn back to the mirror, running the brush through your hair with more force than necessary. "And I didn't ask for your help," you add, "I think I can handle getting ready on my own."

Caleb watches as you finish brushing your hair, his eyes never leaving your reflection in the mirror. He sees the flicker of irritation in your gaze, hears the sharpness in your tone. As you turn to leave, he clears his throat, his voice a low rumble that stops you in your tracks. "You're forgetting something, pipsqueak," he says, a hint of that old teasing to his tone. But there's something darker, something that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

He takes two long strides towards you, closing the distance between your bodies in an instant. His large hands find your waist, strong fingers splaying possessively over the curve of your hips. He pulls you back against his chest, your body molding to the hard planes of his own like two puzzle pieces clicking into place.

In the mirror, your eyes meet, locking in a charged gaze. You feel his hands fist the fabric of your skirt. He pulls and tugs, the skirt riding higher and higher on your thighs with each yank of his wrists. The cool air of the room brushes against the newly exposed skin, sending a shiver racing up your spine.

"Caleb..." you protest, your voice a mortified whisper as you feel your skirt being hiked up past your thighs. But he doesn't listen, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror as he exposes you completely.

Your blush deepens as you watch, uncomfortably aroused, as he finally reaches the hem of your skirt. The fabric pools around your waist, leaving your bare cunt on full display in the reflection. The sight of your glistening folds, makes your heart race and your core clench.

Caleb's breath grows heavier, his chest rising and falling more rapidly against your back. His grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you in place, trapping you against him. His eyes, dark and hungry, rove over your reflection, taking in every intimate detail.

"Were you really planning on going out like this?" he asks, "Or were you just trying to tease me...again?" His fingers flex, digging into your hipbones hard. He leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I've told you before, pipsqueak. If you want something...ask for it."

His eyes bore into yours in the mirror, a intensity burning in their violet depths. Ask me, they seem to say. Ask me to touch you to taste you, to claim you again. Beg me to fuck you until you can't walk straight.

He watches as your lips part, your breath coming in short, sharp pants. He waits, his heart pounding in his chest as he anticipates your response. Say it, he thinks. Say you want me. Say you need me. Beg me to touch you like I've been dying to.

"I...I..." you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. He smirks, a curve to his lips as he watches you struggle to form words. So cute, so innocent, he thinks. He leans in closer, his teeth nipping your ear as he whispers, "Go on, pipsqueak. Say it."

"Caleb...please" you whimper, your voice barely audible but dripping with desperate need. It's all the encouragement he needs. Caleb reaches down and slowly lowers the zipper of your skirt and it slides down your legs until it pools at your feet, leaving you bare from the waist down. And just as quickly, Caleb makes short work of his own clothes. His shirt joins your skirt on the floor, followed by his jeans and underwear. His cock springs free, thick and hard and already leaking at the tip.

Before you can do anything he takes your hand, his fingers curling around yours as he leads you to the chair where you sat just moments ago. He sits down, his bare skin warming the cool leather, and pulls you to stand between his spread thighs. The heat of his body envelops you, making your own skin prickle with awareness.

He looks up at you, his eyes glinting with a dark, possessive light as he takes in your reflection . His hands come to rest on your hips, fingers splaying over the bare flesh of your ass as he holds you in place. Mine, his eyes seem to say as they rove over your naked form.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice a sensual rumble. "So fucking beautiful. And all mine." His hands slide around to your front, one coming to rest low on your belly while the other cups your mound possessively. "This is what you do to me, baby. This is what you make me want."

Caleb moves his hands to grip your hips once again as he slowly lowers you onto his lap. His cock, hard and thick, slides between your folds, the thick head nudging against your entrance. You feel the heat of him, the pulsing of his flesh against your most intimate place, and it makes your head swim with need.

A moan escapes your lips as he settles you fully in his lap, his thick shaft nestled snugly between your thighs. Your back arches, pressing your breasts out as you throw your head back against his shoulder. Caleb's lips find your neck, pressing hot kisses to the sensitive skin as his hands roam your curves.

"Fuck, baby," he groans against your neck, his hips rocking up slightly to grind his cock against your dripping slit. "You feel so fucking good. So hot and wet and ready for me."

Caleb's hands slide up your sides, his fingers skimming over your skin until they reach the hem of your shirt. Without pausing, he tugs it upwards, exposing your flat stomach and the cute little belly button that sits above your cunt but he doesn't stop there, he keeps going, pulling the shirt and your bra up and over your breasts until they spring free, bouncing slightly from the sudden release. Your tits, perfect handfuls are now on full display in the mirror. The cool air of the room makes your nipples tighten and pucker, begging for attention. His hands cup the soft mounds, his fingers sinking into the pliant flesh as he squeezes and kneads. His thumbs brush over your nipples, teasing the sensitive peaks until they're stiff peaks.

"Fuck, look at these perfect tits," Caleb groans, watching your reflection as he plays with your breasts. "They're even more gorgeous than I remember. I can't wait to get my mouth on them, to suck and bite and mark your beautiful skin." He rolls your nipples between his fingers, pinching and tugging on the sensitive buds as he rocks his hips up against you. His cock slides between your folds once again.

"Oh god", you whimper, feeling your pussy clench and flutter around nothing. "Oh fuck, Caleb"  Your hips start to move on their own, grinding down against the hard length of him as your body craves more stimulation. The mirror reflects your desperation, your tits bouncing in his hands as he teases and pleases you.

Caleb's voice is a commanding growl in your ear. "Lift your hips, baby. Just a little bit, that's it." You feel his fingers around your throat, his large hand spanning the delicate column of your neck. His other hand slides down your body, over the soft swell of your belly, to wrap around your thigh. He squeezes the supple flesh, his fingers sinking in as he spreads your leg wider, opening you up to him. You feel the cool air against your dripping core, making you shiver.

Caleb takes advantage of your new position to line himself up with your entrance. The thick head of his cock nudges against your folds, slipping between them to catch on your hole. You feel the heat of him, the hard, throbbing flesh pulsing with need.

"Watch, baby," Caleb commands, "Watch as I claim this pretty little cunt. Watch as I make this pretty pussy mine."

He starts to push forward, his hips rocking up as he sinks into you inch by inch. The mirror allows you to see every moment, every second of your joining. You watch, as your body stretches around his thick cock, your walls fluttering and clenching as they struggle to accommodate his size. Caleb's eyes bore into yours, his gaze intense and consuming. Mine he thinks, watching your expression morph with pleasure. This is what you were made for, baby. To take my cock, to milk it with this greedy little cunt. His hand tightens around your throat, not enough to cut off air, but enough to make you feel owned, claimed, possessed.

Caleb starts to thrust up into you, his hips rocking and rolling as he drives his thick cock deeper and deeper into your tight, clenching heat. And you find yourself meeting his thrusts, your own hips rolling as you take him in. The mirror shows you every detail of his thick cock disappearing between your thighs, only to reappear coated in your arousal.

Caleb keeps your leg spread wide, his hand gripping your thigh hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises. He holds you open, keeping you in place as he fucks into you with deep, powerful strokes. The other hand remains wrapped around your throat, his thumb pressing lightly against your racing pulse.

"Fuck baby," Caleb groans, his voice ragged and rough with lust. "Your pussy feels so fucking good. So hot and tight and perfect." He punctuates each word with a sharp thrust, his pelvis slamming against you as he bottoms out inside you. You can see it, see the way your body swallows him up, see the thick ring of milky white arousal forming at the base of his shaft where he's stretching you open. It's filthy, it's obscene, but it's so fucking hot.

His thrusts become more urgent, more insistent, as he chases his own release. The mirror reflects your bouncing tits, the flesh jiggling and swaying with each powerful surge of his hips. Your mouth is open, soft gasps and whimpers spilling from your lips as you lose yourself in the sensation.

Caleb's eyes are glued to your reflection, watching your every reaction. He sees the way your head lolls back, your eyes glazed over with lust. He sees the string of drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. "Fuck, look at you," a surge of pride and possessiveness rushing through his veins. "Look at how much you love taking my cock."

"Tell me, baby, didn't you wear any panties today, just to tease me? To make me want to bend you over and fuck this pussy raw?" Caleb grins wickedly as you nod, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "That's my girl" he says, feeling a thrill of satisfaction at the knowledge that you deliberately left your pussy bare and exposed, just for him. "Such a naughty little tease, getting me all worked up."

"Keep your legs open for me, baby," Caleb orders, his hand squeezing your thigh harder as he spreads you wider. "I want to watch this pretty cunt as I make you come all over my cock." Then you hear him spit, the cool wetness drips down between the valley of your breasts, trailing down your stomach before dripping onto your pussy. Without wasting a second, Caleb smears the spit around your clit, using it as lubricant. His fingers circle the sensitive nub, rubbing tight, quick circles as he feels your body tensing. Your clit swells under his touch, peeking out from beneath its hood as he strokes and teases and pleasures you. He keeps rubbing, as his hips never stop their rhythm. The mirror shows your body shaking, your tits bouncing, your mouth open in a silent scream as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. Caleb feels your scream building, hears the way your breath hitches and catches in your throat. In a flash, he brings the hand that was on your throat up to cover your mouth, silencing your cries before they can escape and alert Gran of your activities.

But then your teeth sink into the flesh of his palm, biting down hard enough to make him hiss in pained surprise. The sudden, sharp sensation sends a jolt of adrenaline through his body, pushing him over the precipice. Your orgasm crashes over you, your body seizing and shaking as ecstasy whites out your mind. Your cunt clamps down around his cock, walls rippling and fluttering as they try to milk him for all he's worth.

The feeling of your pussy spasming around him, combined with the throbbing ache of your bite,its too much for Caleb. With a moan that he muffles against your hair, he hilts himself inside you and lets go. Thick, hot ropes of cum paint your insides as Caleb's cock pulses and throbs. His hips jerk and stutter, spurting his seed deep inside your cunt as he fills you with his essence. It seems to go on forever, wave after wave of thick, sticky cum pumping into your hole as Caleb marks you, claims you, makes you his.

As the intense waves of your shared orgasms start to fade, you feel Caleb's lips press soft kisses along the column of your neck. His touch is gentle now, almost reverent.

You can feel the thick mix of your combined releases starting to leak out around where you're joined, your over sensitive flesh twitching at the sensation. Caleb's fingers find the source of the dripping wetness, gathering some of the pearly essence on his fingertips.

"Open up, baby," Caleb whispers as he removes his hand from your mouth. "Taste us. Taste what we made together." His fingers press against your lower lip, smearing the sticky fluid across the soft flesh. Almost unconsciously, you part your lips, allowing him access to your mouth. Caleb takes advantage, slipping his finger past your lips to rest on your tongue. The taste of your combined releases floods your senses, the slightly bitter, salty flavor of his cum mixed with the sweeter, tangier essence of your arousal. It's an intoxicating combination that makes your head swim.

"Fuck, that's so hot," Caleb groans, watching your face intently as you suck on his finger. "Seeing you taste our cum, taste the proof of how good we are together."

He slips out of you making you flinch "You better get ready now, pipsqueak, you don't want to be late for whatever plans you have today. But..." His hand tightens in your hair, tugging lighly.

"...when you come back home to me, I'll be waiting. I'll be here, ready to pick up right where we left off." Caleb's other hand slides down to grip your hip possessively, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh. "We only have a few days together, after all. And I plan to make every single second count."

Rafayel's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as he navigated through the crowded city streets, slower than necessary. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink.

"You know," he began, voice laced with a touch of impatience but also a hint of something softer, "you could have just stayed home and I would have understood" His finger tapped an erratic rhythm against the wheel, and he sighed. "I just...I wish we had more time together, just the two of us. Without all this..." He waved a hand vaguely at the windshield, as if gesturing to the world beyond the car.

"Tell you what cutie," he said, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes "if you give me a good enough reason, we can turn around right now. Leave all this nonsense behind and find somewhere... more private."

His lips curved into a playful smirk, a silent invitation hanging in the air between you. The car rolled to a stop at a red light, and Rafayel cocked his head to the side, one eyebrow raised in question. Waiting. Always waiting for your response.

"Nooooo, you actually need to show up this time Rafayel," you say as you looked inside your purse for your lipstick.

"I know, I know," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "You're right, of course. I can't just...skip it." He trailed off, jaw clenched tight.

The light turned green, and Rafayel pressed down on the accelerator, the car lurching forward. He gripped the wheel tighter. "I just...I hate all the pretension. The fake smiles, the insincere compliments..." He shook his head, a look of distaste on his handsome face. "I'd rather spend the time with you, not stuck in some stuffy room filled with people I don't know."

"Have you seen my lipstick? I swear I left it here the last time I used it." You asked still looking through your purse

"Yes, it's back there somewhere..." he murmured. Rafayel watched as you hastily unbuckled your seatbelt, leaning over to rummage through the backseat. He couldn't help but let his gaze linger on the tantalizing curve of your back. Suddenly, you let out a small 'ah!' of triumph and straightened up, holding the tube of lipstick. In doing so, you lose balance for a moment. His eyes widened as he noticed your dress riding up, revealing the tantalizing sight of your bare skin above the seat of your panties... except there were no panties. His foot slipped off the accelerator, the car momentarily slowing.

For a moment, he forgot about the traffic, the show, everything. The world narrowed down to the sight of your exposed skin, the absence of any fabric that should have been there. He swallowed hard, a wave of heat coursed through him, and he gripped the steering wheel tighter to stop his hand from reaching out to touch. He wanted to trail his fingers up the smooth skin of your thigh, to feel the warmth beneath his palm.

"Cutie..." he breathed out, voice low and rough with sudden desire. He tore his gaze away from the tempting view, forcing himself to focus on the road. But he couldn't unsee the image burned into his mind.

Rafayel took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure as he watched you sit back down and apply your lipstick, oblivious to the effect your little display had on him. He swallowed hard, his pants suddenly feeling far too tight and constricting. He forced his gaze back to the road, but he could still see you in his peripheral vision, the way your lips pursed and pressed together as you applied the color. He imagined tasting that lipstick, tasting you, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Almost there," he muttered, more to himself than to you. He just needed to get through this damn show, and then...then he could focus on indulging in the fantasies running wild through his imagination.

He parked the car in the furthest spot from the gallery entrance, the tires crunching on the gravel as he brought the vehicle to a stop. He turned to you, a grin spreading across his face, eyes glinting with mischief. He reached out, tracing a finger lightly along your jawline, tilting your chin up towards him. His thumb brushed over your newly applied lipstick, smearing the vibrant color slightly.

"Mm, I like this shade," he murmured, voice low and flirtatious. "It reminds me of the color of your lips when I've kissed you breathless...on all of your lips. You see, I remember exactly what you look like, all pink and swollen and glistening, when I've had my face buried between your thighs for hours," his voice was a low, hypnotic rumble. "When I've licked and sucked and teased your clit until you're writhing and begging for release. His hand slid down to your knee, fingers trailing up along your inner thigh, inching higher and higher. His touch was electric, setting off sparks of pleasure that raced through your veins. He watched the blush spread across your cheeks, your thighs clenching together at his bold words. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, could smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne.His fingers inched higher up your thigh, his touch bold and purposeful. You knew that somehow he had figured out your little secret. The heat in his gaze told you that much.

"Open your legs for me, cutie, let me see those pretty lips again, the ones that are hiding from me right now." His hand slid higher, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin at the apex of your thighs. He didn't touch you directly, not yet, but he was close. So close that you could feel the anticipation building, could feel your core starting to throb with need.

"Come on," he purred, "don't make me wait. I know you're not wearing anything under that dress. I saw a glimpse of paradise back there."

He licked his lips, eyes gleaming with hunger. "Now be a good girl and open up for me, like you did last night when I had you spreading yourself wide open on my tongue."

His breath hitched as you slowly parted your thighs for him, revealing your bare pussy. His eyes darkened with lust at the sight. "Fuck,..." he breathed, voice rough with desire. "Look at you, so pretty and pink and ready for me." His fingers traced teasingly along your slit, not quite touching, just barely grazing your skin.

Rafayel didn't seem to care about the growing crowd in the parking lot. His focus was solely on you, on the sight of your bare cunt glistening in the fading light. He leaned in closer, the leather of his car seat creaking as he pulled it back giving himself more room.

He slid his hands under your thighs, gripping them tightly as he pulled you closer to the edge of your seat. Your dress rode up around your waist, fully exposing your bare, glistening sex to his eyes.

"Wrap your legs around my shoulders," he commanded, settling between your thighs. "I'm going to make you cum so hard, you won't care if the whole fucking world sees." His hands gripped your lower back tightly as he pulled you up and forward, your head resting on the armrest, your legs draping over his shoulders. He could feel the heat radiating off your core, could smell your intoxicating arousal. It made his cock throb and ache with the need to be inside you.

"Fuck, I can smell how much you want this," he groaned, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. "You're fucking drenched. So wet and ready for me." He leaned in closer, his tongue darting out to take a long, slow lick up your slit. He moaned at the taste of you, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss. "Delicious," he murmured, before diving back in for more.

"Oh god, Rafayel!" you gasped, back arching off the seat as his tongue delved deep into your aching core. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tight as jolts of electricity raced through your body. His hands kneaded the globes of your ass, pulling you harder against his mouth, his tongue plunging in and out of your soaked pussy.

Rafayel glanced up, taking in the now crowded parking lot. The closest car was a few spaces away, but still within clear view of anyone who cared to look in your direction. He could see people already heading towards the gallery entrance but he was too far gone to care. All he could focus on was the intoxicating taste of you on his tongue, the way your body trembled and quaked beneath his touch.

He licks you again, this time slower, he flattens his tongue and licks you from the bottom up, going particularly slow over your pulsating clit. The pressure builds as he finally does what he knows will be your undoing. His tongue swirled up to your clit with the perfect amount of pressure and you loose yourself to him and the thrashing of his tongue on your clit. The coil deep in your stomach curled painfully tight when he sucked your clit into his mouth, a strangled cry escapes you as your body falls over the edge, he plunges two fingers inside of you as you cum, and the bliss is catastrophic. You no longer cared to hold back the scream or to stop your thighs from clamping his head firmly between them.

"That's it, cutie," he praised, voice rough and ragged. "Fucking soak my face. I want everyone to know I'm the one who made you feel this good."

He didn't let up until your body went boneless, slumping back against the seat, chest heaving as you gasped for air. Only then did he pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a smug and thoroughly satisfied grin on his face. Rafayel quickly tugged your dress down, covering your cunt as he fumbled for his phone on the console between the seats. He put it on speaker and dialed Thomas's number, his thumb hovering over the call button.

Thomas picked up on the second ring, his voice filtering through the car's speakers. "Hello? Rafayel? We were starting to think you wouldn't make it to-"

"Hey, listen," Rafayel interrupted, his voice still rough from his exertions. "I need you to do me a favor. I...I won't be able to make it to the show tonight, something came up." He shot a meaningful glance at your flushed appearance, biting back a smirk.

"Tell everyone I apologize for my absence and that I'll make it up to you all soon. I have to take care of something important" He ended the call abruptly, not giving Thomas a chance to protest, and tossed the phone aside. The engine roared to life as he put the car in gear and drove out of the parking spot, leaving the gallery behind.

"Where are we going?" you asked breathlessly, still trying to catch your breath from the intensity of your orgasm.

Rafayel flashed you a wicked grin, his eyes gleaming with renewed lust and desire. "Back to my place. I'm not done with you yet, not by a long shot." He reached over, resting his hand high up on your thigh, fingers teasing the hem of your dress. "I'm going to take my time with you, explore every inch of this gorgeous body. And then, maybe, just maybe I'll give you another screaming orgasm, but this time on my cock."

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - one (j.yh)

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

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

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

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 17.9k

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

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

“Fuck,” You breathe, “hey,” 

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

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

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

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I guess.” 

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

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

“Thank you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” He checks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?” He tilts his face up to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” He hums and stays relaxed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” He laughs, “of course, yeah,” 

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

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

The tattoo on your chest feels warm beneath your blouse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s yours. 

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

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

“You didn’t?” His hand falls. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head, “No,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A soulmate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His shoulders relax just a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” You assure him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good,” You nod, “don’t worry,” 

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

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

“Am I good?” Yunho checks. 

Your eyes flick over him fast, “Yep,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He really is yours. 

It turns out that later means much later. 

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

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

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

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

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

A soft knock at the door makes your stomach lurch. 

You’re frozen. 

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

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

“I waited,” You manage. 

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

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

He nods, “Come to my room?” 

“Are you sure?” Your eyes widen. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the heavy door shuts behind you, you sigh. 

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

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

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

“It feels pretty real,” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You what?” Your eyebrows raise. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Completely,” He nods, “did yours?” 

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

“Does it feel,” He starts.

“Warm?” 

“Yes,” He nods, “and tender?” 

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

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

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

“You want to see it?” He surmises. 

“Only if you’re comfortable,” 

His lips quirk, “I’m comfortable,”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

He shakes his head, “Not before today,” 

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

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

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

“You feel that?” He asks, “Right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it always feel like that?” 

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

He smiles, “Your sister found her soulmate?” 

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

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

“Younger,” You say.  

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

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

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

Your heart quickens and you nod. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Your voice is thready. 

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

“Yes,” You agree, painfully quickly. 

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

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

You wonder what more will feel like. 

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

You nod. 

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

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

“You can feel that?” 

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

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

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

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

“Feel alright?” He murmurs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He feels so right, so essential under your touch. 

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

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

“Yunho,” You shiver. 

“Cold?” He gravitates a little closer. 

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

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

His lips are on yours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to slow down,” He manages. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Overwhelming,” You nod, exhaling softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You straighten up again, finding his eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your tight hands uncurl. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s yours. 

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

“This is real,” You murmur. 

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

“You’re mine,” 

“Yes,” He grins. 

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

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

“Together,” You nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is nice,” You smile. 

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

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

“It is,”

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

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

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

 “I had no idea,” 

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” You perk up, “Who?” 

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

You sigh, letting his softness calm you again. 

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

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

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

That wakes you up. 

Your eyebrows raise, “Stay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With me?” His eyebrows raise. 

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

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

“It is what it is,” 

“Are your parents soulmates?” He asks softly. 

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

You watch his eyes widen in surprise. 

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

“For status?” He surmises. 

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

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

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

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

“It could,” 

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

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

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

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

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

Your smile at his warm expression. 

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

Your throat constricts, tears threatening for a moment. 

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

“Very,”

“I’d like to meet her,” He smiles. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

“She’s funny,” He smirks. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Your eyes feel heavy. 

“Yeah,” He kisses your forehead. 

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

“Mhm,” He yawns too, “me too, jagi,” 

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

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

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

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

Nuzzled against his tattoo, you drift.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Naive is what it is,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long?” Seonghwa manages. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Yunho laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mouth feels dry. 

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

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

You both wait. 

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

Yunho nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” Yunho curses. 

You both slept straight through Yunho’s alarm. 

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

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

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

Did you already get up and get ready?

Your work bag is still here…

Not funny, girl, where are you?

Did you make it back last night? 

Can you answer me?? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seonghwa huffs a laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With some guy?” She stands. 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” You say again. 

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

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

“Iseul,” Your cheeks heat. 

She points at you, “I’m right!” 

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

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

“I can’t,” You press, “leave it,” 

“Why are you being so weird?” 

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

“I’m not letting this go,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” 

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

“Fine,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You miss him. 

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

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

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

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

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

So you’re as awake as I am? 

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

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

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

Nope - You tease back. 

Was she upset? - He asks. 

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

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

How was Seonghwa? - You tap out. 

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

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

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

That’s good - You send back. 

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

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

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

Why’s that? - You tease him. 

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

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

So who did she guess? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exactly - You reply. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your thighs press together - Yunho?

Yes, jagi?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you have headphones? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want me? - You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

I was tossing and turning. 

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

You send him another emoji, the blushing face. 

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

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

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

Wearing? 

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

I asked you first.

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

A heavy sigh passes through your lips. 

“And you?” 

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

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

Me too 

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

Me either - You confess. 

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

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

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

You message him one last thought - What about you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” You murmur in a whisper. 

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

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

“Under your panties too,” He says, his voice a little husky. 

“Mhm,” You murmur again, following his words. 

“Tease a little for me,” He instructs you, “not too fast, just your fingertips on the outside,” 

You breathe low and slow, gently passing the pads of your fingers over your slit, just barely ghosting against the hard nub of your clit. 

“I bet you look so pretty right now,” He groans a little and you hear the sound of sheets, “you make the cutest faces when you’re feeling good,” 

You make the tiniest noise of acknowledgement, fingers still brushing your cunt. 

“Can’t wait to see you fall apart for real,” He confesses, a strain in his tone as he sighs, and you picture him. His long legs spread wide in the bed, stretching from corner to corner, his boxer briefs pushed down and his hand fisting his cock. 

You’re going to lose it when you finally get to touch him again. 

“You can touch now,” He murmurs, getting your attention back, “are you wet?” 

You push your fingers through your folds and sigh when you feel just how slick and swollen you are. With your other hand you find the phone nearby and tap out a quick message - So wet

“That’s good, that’s so good,” 

Your fingers start to circle on your oversensitive nub and there’s no way he won’t have you coming in five minutes or less with it feeling this good and his heavy breath in your ear. 

“R-rub your clit for me,” He pants and your eyes roll, you can hear the sounds of the sheets rhythmically swishing as he pumps his cock harder, “get your fingers nice and wet,” 

You whimper into the pillow, biting down hard on your cheek to keep yourself in check. 

“Oh, fuck,” He groans, “sound so pretty,” 

You rub harder, faster, your legs stretching wide under the downy comforter to give you better access. 

“Baby,” He gets your attention with that, “push two fingers inside yourself, imagine I’m there with you,” 

You shift, hand slipping lower and body arching to slide your middle and ring finger as deep as they’ll go. You stay mostly quiet this time, but your breathing is heavy and you’re sure he can hear it. 

“Close your eyes,” He murmurs, “picture my fingers,” 

You gasp softly. 

“Grind,” He tells you, “grind your pussy on my palm and feel my fingers fucking you,” 

You bite back a moan, only the slip of a soft sound into the microphone as you start to rock, rolling your hips and working your clit against your hand as you sink into his fantasy. You always took him for soft, the romantic type who’d blush at saying the word ‘pussy’ let alone talking you through what’s bound to be the headiest orgasm of your life, but you’ve never been so happy to be wrong. 

“Yes,” Yunho moans and you shudder, “I can hear you moving, you’re doing so good,” 

Pleasurable stars burst behind your eyes and you grind harder into your slick palm. 

“So good,” He groans and you hear him roll in the bedding, his voice changing to something lower and breathier, and then the rhythmic rock of sheets from his side of the phone tells you all you need to know. You can almost see it, Yunho braced on his forearms, hips thrusting to drive his cock in and out of his hot fist, his face buried in the pillow you slept on the night before. 

Heat melts through you, your body alight, and you grapple to find the phone again - Close

“Already?” He says in a flushed exhale, “You’re so hot, that’s so hot,” 

You need him to talk to you, you need him to tell you what to do, and you whimper into the bedding as you work your body faster up to the peak. 

“You gonna come for me?” He murmurs, “Yeah? Hmm?” 

You drop the phone and press a hand over your lips, stifling the threat of a real moan. 

“Let go,” His voice is so low in your ear you can practically feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, “come for me,” 

Your legs are trembling, knees digging into the mattress and sweat gathered on your brow, and you feel the pressure start to crack open inside you, “Coming,” you whimper into your fingers so he knows, and then it breaks. 

“God, good girl, yes,” He groans, “I’m coming with you, fuck,” 

Your body curls into itself as you release, locking up in pleasure as you feel wave after wave of heat. You bite down on your knuckle to keep from making a sound, silently falling apart, dimly aware somewhere in your gut that half the heat you felt was his, that part of that pleasure was his own. 

Yunho moans in your ear as you ride the sensations, panting and cursing and you can’t wait to feel him pulsing inside you while he sounds this good. 

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover, but when your brain starts to connect again you realize you’re panting against the cool flat of the mattress and both your phone and pillow are nowhere to be found. You swallow hard and pop your head up, but Iseul hasn’t moved an inch and you thank god for her liberal use of melatonin while traveling. 

In your ear you register the sound of Yunho’s breath and the end of a sentence, “still there?” 

He must have been talking, and you try to focus in on the sound of him now as you slip your hand out from between your sticky thighs. 

He exhales slowly and you hear him shifting around, “y/n, baby, are you there?” 

 “Uh-huh,” You manage. 

“Sleepy?” He murmurs, misreading your sound, “That’s okay,” 

You make a tiny noise of protest and search the bed for your phone. 

“Baby?” He’s confused and you grin at his sleepy sated tone. 

Sliding off the bed onto nearly boneless legs, you find your pillow off to the side and your phone underneath. You snap it up and send a message quickly - Wait

“Wait?” He breathes, “Sure, I’m not going anywhere, I’m here,” 

You tiptoe to the bathroom as quietly as you can and then shut yourself behind the heavy door, flicking on the light and collapsing to sit on the closed toilet lid. 

You disconnect your earbuds and bring your phone to your ear, “Hey,” 

“Hey,” He murmurs, “you okay?” 

“Yeah,” You smile, still a little breathless, “Hiding in the bathroom for a sec so I could actually talk to you,” 

He hums, a quiet, lazy laugh, “Ah,” 

“Are you okay?” You find yourself asking, a little nervous tumble in your gut. 

“Me?” He says, “I’m incredible, you’re incredible,” 

“Yeah?” You draw your knees up, wrapping your arms around yourself and smiling into the phone. 

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” He checks, but you still hear the sound of him calling you ‘good girl’ and you shiver. 

“Not too much,” You sigh into the phone. 

“Good,” He hums, “I thought so, I was trying to pay attention to how you were feeling, but it was a little,”

“Hard to focus?” You offer and he laughs. 

“Yeah,” He sighs again, heavy and sated. 

“I can’t wait for this tour to be over,” You confess, “I just want to be with you,” 

You feel a pang in your chest and listen as Yunho rolls in the sheets, “I know, I want that too,” 

A little lump forms in your throat and you breathe through it, “Yunho,” 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Have you ever felt like this before?” Your thundering heart has started to slow, and you let your eyes close as you murmur the question. 

“Never,” He murmurs, “but I felt this way before we touched,” 

You feel his tenderness wrap around your heart as if he were in the room with you, and with a small smile you whisper, “I thought you said you weren’t holding a candle?” 

“I lied,” He says softly, “it’s been you for a long time,” 

He doesn’t say it, not in so many words, but you feel the way he loves you through the link in a wave. It’s as good as any confession to you, just as honest if not more so. 

“I wish I could come upstairs,” You manage, tears pricking your eyes. 

You hear him swallow and breathe a slow breath through his nose, “Soon, I promise. We’re going to do this right,” 

“I know,” 

“Are your headphones still in?” He asks

“No, but I can switch back,” 

“Put them back in and go get back in bed,” He softly instructs, “it’s late, but I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, okay?” 

“Okay,” You swap back over to your earbuds and adjust them. 

“Get back to bed,” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Yunho,” You interrupt him, “thank you for staying with me,” 

“Always,” He says, and for the first time in your life when someone says they’ll be there, you believe it. 

“I’m going back out,” Your voice drops to a whisper, “good night,” 

“Mhm,” He listens as you slip back into bed, “just get comfortable, just breathe. I’m right here with you, jagiya, I’ll be right here.” 

He murmurs to you softly until your mind is sinking into darkness, body finally unspooling and letting you drop off into sleep. It’s not the same as his arms around you, but it settles you more than any meditation, his voice a steady whisper through your dreams. 

In the morning when you wake the call is still connected and the first sound you hear is his slow breath and the steady beat of his heart.

[intoblonde6ftwbbplayers]

lil Paige one shot

im bored rn || request are open!

also yes ik none of this is accurate probs but pls dont judge.

pairing - Paige Bueckers x y/n reader

summary - you and Paige are "close" fiends and the fans are suspicious especially seeing you guys interact on Kk's live

warnings - none just pure fluff and clingy Paige

||

Looking over at KK and Ice who had stopped arguing long enough to finally start the live. You went over to them and say hi to the people.

A string of comments rolled in asking how you were and how your test went last week. Even though you weren't on the team you were always with them, on lives, in posts, anywhere.

'Y/N OMG MY QUEEN HOW WAS YOUR TEST?'

'I LOVE Y/N'

'y/n you're so pretty ilyyy'

'Y/N Y/N Y/N'

'y/n apartment tour??'

'oh to be y/n'

you always loved reading comments. they were mostly kind to you and people were pretty funny. You would especially laugh when they realized Paige was there and start thirsting over her. I mean they weren't wrong about what they were saying about her.

Distracted while reading comments you didn't even notice the fact Paige was there you until she came up and wrapped her arms around your waist hugging you from behind putting her face in your neck.

"hey ma" she said into your neck that nickname had you weak although you tired your best to hide it.

Paige loved having her head in your neck or lying on you. Ever since the first time she fell asleep in 2 seconds after laying her head in your lap she decided that leaning her head on you was the best place in the world. Only for her though.

You didn't know it but whenever your other friends would get overly touchy with you it would make her so incredibly jealous. She would make it her mission to never leave you alone long enough for the to happen but thats a story for another time.

"Hey lil Paigey" you said teasingly to her. You called her a lot of nicknames but that one was always so funny to you and it was your favorite. Paige just hummed in response taking a deep breath still in her same position.

"you okay?" you asked quieter and with a little concern as she normally had so much energy but it seamed like right now all she wanted to do was be held (by you).

"dont worry y/n she's just tired from practice" Ice said.

"yeah a certain P Boogers forgot to set an alarm and showed up late to practice so coach made her do suicides" Kk said laughing a bit as they've all been there in the past and tease each other whenever something like this happens.

"broooo" Paige said finally looking up at KK and Ice. They both laugh at their teammate knowing its not serious and go back to answering comments from the live. So you go to do the same.

'is it just me or is Paige always touching y/n'

'I NEED PAIGE AND Y/N TO DATE'

'PAIGE IS SO FINE OMG'

'nah y/n and Paige need to just admit it atp'

'KK ILYYYYY'

'they never beating the allegations'

'PAIGE IS SO CUTE OMFG'

'I need to know what Geno said to Paige when she got there late'

As you scan through the comment you just laugh slightly and shake your head. One particularly got you to actually let out a laugh and you read it out loud.

"read these comments and found out they AREN'T tg??" just making you giggle again.

"sorry to break it to you guys but me and Paige are not dating she's just a little clingy" you say ending the sentence looking over at the blonde girl who is still wrapped around you.

While your speaking Kk moves to sit on the floor going to start on her legos but not before turning the camera to face you, Paige, and Ice

"I think it's more than a little at this point" Ice said looking at the two of you.

Before you can reply you're being pulled back the other side of the couch. You let yourself be dragged by Paige having an idea of what she wants. She sits you both down on the couch and goes to hug your waist again immediately collapsing into you like you knew she probably had been wanting to.

Kk and Ice look over and shake their heads at their teammate who is gripping onto you like a koala right now and Kk catching it all on camera

"alright maybe its more then a little but I don't mind" You say looking back at Ice while your hands slowly start running up and down Paiges back making their way under her hoodie to do so like you've done a million times

you've all forget about the live that Kk has currently propped up to face the three of you

"oh we know you don't" Ice replies with the biggest smirk ever

thats when you guys all remember your one live so when you look at the screen you already know all the comments are going to be about you and Paige

Kk tosses you the phone and you catch it now holding it so the screen looks like a FaceTime

you read though the comment and reply to as many as you can

'are you and Paige dating?' "no guys we are not dating just really good friends" you say with a soft smile looking down at her half asleep with her face in your chest

'idk if I wanna be y/n or Paige in this situation'

'PAIGE IS TOO CUTE OMFG'

'Y/N UR SO PRETTY ILYYYY'

'y/n and Paige deniers real quiet rn'

'Paige and Y/n are meant for each other'

'PAIGE AND Y/N SUPREMACY'

"listen guys if you've never cuddled with friends you're missing out just saying" you say with a shrug moving the camera to Paige knowing thats who most people wanna see anyway

"Paige anything you wanna say?" you say in a different tone knowing that everyone could probably hear the smile you have while talking to her. Because yes you did like Paige but you weren't sure if she liked you.

"Nah y/n right we just friends.. and I had a long day" Paige says turning her head so only half of it is against you now

"what's that thing called love-smth with like 5 different ones?" She asks you moving her head so her chin in now resting against you scooting up so your faces are closer and you're looking right at each other (with heart eyes coming from both of you)

"5 love languages?"

"mhm those isn't one of em touch or sum shit?" Paige asks you making sure she's right and once you nod she moves back to using you like a pillow and facing the screen again

"Yeah so I think its just that me and y/n both like the physical touch one so thats why we like this" Paige said to the fans knowing thats not the real reason she's so clingy with you

all you do is hum in response and begin playing with Paiges hair while she talks to the live

this goes on for a couple minutes until you hear Paiges talking slowing down and see her struggling to keep her eyes open

You take this as a sign that it might be time to end the live as Ice has gone to her room and Kk is locked in on the legos she's building

you take the phone from Paige and she mumbles a sleepy "thank you ma"

"alright guys we're all a little tired so ima end the live. We love you guys bye!" you say finally ending the live and tossing the phone back to Kk

Paige shift on top of you trying to get comfortable and as always she ends up with her head in the crook of you neck and her hands find their way to your hips under your hoodie

"I got you p just go to sleep" you say quietly in her ear as her breathing slows down and her eyes flutter shut

once the words leave your lips you can feel your own body relaxing further into the couch and let yourself fall asleep with her as well knowing that when you wake up there will be countless photos of you both circulating the gc and possibly their stories

||

thank you for reading

I hope you enjoyed!

[satoruxx]

pairing: toji fushiguro x reader | 1.2k words summary: boyfriend!toji again, fluff, soft!toji, grumpy x sunshine, that obligatory sick fic, bickering, affectionate scolding, pet names, this is very self-indulgent !! rheya's note: had this written for so long and never posted it oops !! but yeah resident grump worrying over his fav what's new?

toji knows something is off as soon as he steps into his apartment. he comes to the conclusion almost immediately, because he isn’t greeted like he normally is when he comes home.

normally, he’ll push the door open and you’ll trip over yourself as you stand from the couch, a giddy smile on your face as you jump into his arms. and being the asshole that he is, toji never hesitates to grumble about it, clicking his tongue as he says things along the lines of “dammit kid one day i won’t catch you” or “jeez baby let me get in the house” or something similar. but despite all that his hands will still be attached to you, rubbing your back as he smothers an amused chuckle against your hair.

but not today. today he’s greeted by quiet and emptiness—a clear lack of you. he had opened the door ready to catch you in his arms, but all he can do is raise a brow at the silence. as much as he normally complains about it, this absence makes his gut churn. he pushes all that aside, more concerned than anything as he drops his jacket onto the couch and heads for the bedroom.

toji is nothing if not observant, paranoid as his eyes dart from corner to corner of the small apartment. it’s ingrained into him—this fear that his past will come back to haunt him and take you away in the most brutal way imaginable. but he tries to ignore that, continuing to head down the hall until he pushes the bedroom door open.

his shoulders drop in relief, seeing you laying on your stomach, face buried in the pillows, and he lets out a sigh. he sees you shift a little, signaling that you’re awake, so he takes a few steps forward.

toji climbs onto the bed and lays down next to you, dropping a heavy arm over your back. “what’s wrong?”

“don’t feel good,” you answer back. toji’s brows furrow, and he manages to push his free palm against your forehead. heat pulses against his skin, and his frown deepens.

“the fuck did you do to yourself?” he asks, not unkindly but still stern—you can only glare at him hazily.

“it’s not my fault!”

“uh huh,” toji rolls his eyes, threading his fingers through your sweaty hair and pushing it back from your forehead. “so me telling you to put some layers on when you go out in the cold has nothing to do with this?”

you huff, face heating under his pointed stare, and all you can do is shove his hand away, before pathetically burying your face into the sheets again. “shut up.”

“don’t be a brat.” toji lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head indulgently. “it’s your fault for not listening to me.”

“if you’re just gonna lecture me, go away,” you complain, cheek pressed into the pillow. toji snorts, though his hand rubs what you assume to be soothing circles on your back.

“who’s gonna make sure your dumbass doesn’t get into more trouble?”

another indignant huff, and toji only chuckles. “alright c’mon kid. let’s get you in better shape, yeah?” he grunts, looping his arm around your waist and tugging you up. you immediately protest, whining out a plethora of curses attached to his name, and he rolls his eyes. “okay, alright shut up.”

he maneuvers your body into sitting position, leaning you up against the pillows and pulling the blankets up with furrowed brows—meticulous in a way that he is only with very few things.

“you eat anything today?” he asks, still fussing over the blankets, and you gulp quietly. one look and toji’s frown grows deeper. “kid.” the word comes out stressed, like a scolding, and you wince.

“i didn’t feel like it,” you groan, trying not to wilt under his pointed glare.

“don’t care,” he huffs. “your body needs energy, stupid.”

“rude,” you mutter, crossing your arms and toji rolls his eyes.

“whine all you want—“ he stands up, rolling his neck until he hears a satisfying crack. “—still gonna make you eat something. soup okay?”

you don’t want to admit how tempting it sounds, so with an unrelenting amount of stubbornness you glare at him. “fine.”

his lips quirk upward into a smug little grin, and you try to refrain from throwing something at him. he pats your leg. “alright.”

he heads into the kitchen, leaving you to your thoughts. you hear the occasional sounds of cooking and utensils and before long, the comforting smell of soup wafts through the apartment. you try not to show toji how your mouth is watering when he walks back in, a bowl in his palm.

“here,” he grunts, propping a knee onto the bed that dips under his weight. “eat up, doll.”

you sigh, already hating the feeling of the cool sheets when you move even slightly to reach for it.

“you gonna make me spoon feed you?” toji’s brow quirks—smug, and obviously amused.

“i can do it myself thank you—” you try to take the bowl from him with a glare but he raises it out of your reach and clicks his tongue.

“will y’just let me do this one thing for you, jeez,” he complains, glaring down his nose at you.

you cross your arms with a huff, tone going slightly apologetic. “i feel bad—”

“why the fuck do you feel bad?” he asks sharply, eyes narrowed and confused and caught off guard like you’ve said the most out of pocket thing.

“because—” you stress, throwing your hands up miserably. “you were out on these crazy missions—probably tired as hell. and instead of relaxing you have to come home and take care of me because i was too stupid to look after myself.”

toji groans, putting the bowl on the bedside table before sitting on the bed completely. “kid,” he says emphatically, taking your face in his palms firmly. “how many times do i need to tell you this? i don’t mind lookin’ out for you.”

“yeah but—”

“no shut up,” he snaps, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. “you always worry about bothering me or inconveniencing me or some other crap like that. i’m telling you—don’t.”

his thumbs gently press into the apples of your cheeks, and your lips part under his pointed gaze.

“i like doin’ shit for you, okay? ‘n takin’ care of you when you’re sick? that’s nothing.” his lips tug into a lopsided smirk. “who else is gonna look out for you anyway?”

you purse your lips, throat going tight because toji rarely talks like this—so honestly open. and though you’re sure that many people out there would say he’s harsh and mean and not good for you, it’s things like this that prove how wrong they are.

“what’s wrong? did i break your brain?” toji asks, reaching up to knock his knuckle against your head, and you huff out a laugh, pushing his arm away.

“shut up,” you mutter, falling into his chest heavily. he chuckles, low and throaty as he pats your back.

“you up for eating now?” you can feel him reaching for the bowl, and you smile against him, pressing your face further into his warmth because toji will always be nothing but safe for you.

“in a minute,” you answer, looping your arms around his waist. he sighs, shaking his head but he doesn’t say anything else.

but you think you can feel him smile against your hair as he drops a chaste kiss to your forehead—you don’t tell him that though.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Soft Like Water, Warm Like You

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Warnings: Soft smut, fingering (f!receiving), bath intimacy, emotional aftercare, gentle dom energy, swearing, mentions of stress/exhaustion, post-orgasm cuddling.

Summary: you need comfort; Paige delivers love, care, and pleasure.

A/N: I hope I did this justice

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @let-zizi-yap , @latenighttalkinqwp , @fairyblossomsav , @lovejuju

I didn’t even bother kicking off my shoes when I walked in the door. My bag hit the floor with a dull thud, slipping from my shoulder like it couldn’t wait to get away from me either. The air in the apartment was warm and quiet—too peaceful for the kind of day I’d just had. And the second I shut the door behind me, the weight of it all came crashing down.

I let out a groan—long, dramatic, and entirely involuntary. It tore out of my throat like a final cry for help, echoing just enough that I knew Paige had heard it from the bedroom or the kitchen.

“Baby?” Her voice rang out, sweet and curious, laced with concern.

I couldn’t even bring myself to answer. My whole body slumped forward like a marionette with cut strings. Another sound slipped from my lips—half-sigh, half-whine, fully pathetic—as I dragged myself to the couch and collapsed on the edge.

My arms dropped into my lap, my head hanging like it weighed more than it should.

My limbs felt heavy, my eyes dry and scratchy from being open too long.

Every inch of me ached, inside and out.

My skin felt too tight, my clothes too stiff, the world too much.

I just needed her.

A few seconds later, I heard the soft shuffle of socks on the hardwood, then Paige was there—kneeling in front of me like I was the most delicate thing she’d ever seen.

Her hands settled gently on my knees, grounding me, her thumbs moving in slow, comforting circles through the thick denim of my jeans.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at me with those warm blue eyes that always felt like safety. She smiled—soft and patient, like she already knew what I needed before I even asked for it.

“Tough day?” she finally asked, her voice low and syrupy.

I nodded slowly, lips jutting out into a full pout as I leaned forward until my forehead landed on her shoulder with a soft thump.

“Mmmhmm,” I mumbled against her.

“Everything sucks. My back hurts. My feet hurt. I’m starving but too tired to eat. And I missed you.”

She let out a quiet laugh, her arms sliding around my waist, hands rubbing up and down my spine. “God, you’re so cute when you’re whiny.”

“I’m not trying to be cute,” I grumbled, squeezing my eyes shut as I buried my face deeper into her shoulder. “I feel gross. I’m just… done.”

“I know, baby,” she said, her voice dipping lower—gentle but firm. “You’re tired. You’ve been pushing yourself. Let me take care of you.”

She pressed a kiss to my temple, then another to my jaw, and then stood, gently tugging me up with her like I was made of glass.

One of her arms stayed firmly wrapped around my waist, holding me upright when my knees buckled from pure exhaustion.

“C’mon, I’ve got you,” she murmured into my hair. “Let’s get you in the bath, yeah? Nice and warm. I’ll run it for you, light that candle you like. Maybe get in with you.”

That last part sent a soft flutter through my stomach.

I let her lead me toward the bathroom, half-limp, half-glued to her side, letting my neediness bleed into every step. I didn’t have the energy to pretend to be strong, not tonight. And she didn’t ask me to.

Every few steps, she’d kiss the side of my head or rub her thumb over my hip.

She held me like I was fragile, but looked at me like I was precious. And god, I just wanted to curl into her and stay there forever.

By the time we reached the bathroom, I already felt the edge of the day starting to dull.

Not because it had gotten better—but because I was with her now.

And when Paige was around, being babied didn’t feel like weakness.

It just felt like love.

I didn’t even question it—just followed her, dragging my feet, too drained to do anything but let her take the lead.

While I sat on the closed toilet lid, Paige turned on the tub, letting it fill with warm water and drops of eucalyptus oil.

She lit a candle and dimmed the lights, then turned back to me with her softest eyes.

“Clothes off, baby.”

“You getting in with me?” I asked sleepily, already peeling off my shirt.

Her smirk grew a little. “Of course I am.”

Once we were both undressed and the water was perfect, Paige climbed in first and reached for me.

I climb between her her leg carefully, back of my head resting against her chest as I sank into the water and her embrace.

The warmth of the bath, her skin on mine, the soft scent in the air… it all made me feel like I could finally breathe again.

Her hands rubbed slow circles on my sides, her lips occasionally pressing kisses to my hairline, my ears, and my shoulder.

“You’re so good, you know that?” she whispered. “You work so hard. I’m so proud of you.”

I whimpered again, this time more from how her voice hit something deep in my chest.

Her hands slid down my body, trailing water, and settled on my hips.

Fingers grazing the top of my thighs ever so gently.

She shifted slightly under me and I felt the change in her energy—gentle but undeniably turned on.

Her thumbs brushed the dips of my waist, moving up again with featherlight touches.

I arched my back without thinking, eyes fluttering shut. “Paige…”

“Mmm?” Her voice was velvety now, warm and slow.

“Don’t tease me,” I whispered.

“I’m not,” she murmured, letting one hand trail between us. “I just wanna help my girl feel good.”

Her fingers slid lower, her touch barely there, just enough to make me gasp as they grazed over my pussy underwater.

“You’re always taking care of everyone else. Let me take care of you tonight.”

Her fingers circled my clit softly, the water amplifying every sensation.

I whimpered into her neck, my grip tightening around her thighs as her other hand came up to cradle each one of my boobs.

“That’s it, baby… just like that,” she cooed. “You’re so pretty like this.”

Her lips brushed my jaw, then my ear. “So soft for me. So perfect.”

I trembled against her, overwhelmed and so, so ready to let go.

She moved slowly, deliberately, her thumb keeping pressure while two fingers dipped just barely inside me.

My breath hitched.

“That’s my good girl,” she whispered, her cheek pressed against my forehead now, arms cradling me tighter. “Let go for me, sweetheart.”

My breath stuttered as the pressure built too fast, my body desperate for release after a day that felt like it never wanted to end. I arched against her, toes curling against the smooth porcelain, and as my head fell back onto her shoulder, her lips met mine—warm, steady, and just in time.

My orgasm hit in slow, rolling waves, not crashing but melting through me. A soft cry escaped me, swallowed by her kiss, and I trembled in her arms like every tightly wound nerve in my body had finally snapped loose. My chest rose and fell too quickly, breath shaky, overwhelmed not just by the pleasure—but by the safety. The way she held me like I was breakable and sacred all at once.

She didn’t rush it. Didn’t pull away. Just kept whispering between kisses, her mouth brushing my lips like she was trying to breathe comfort directly into me.

“You’re everything,” she murmured.

“So proud of you.”

“My sweet girl.”

Her fingers didn’t move anymore—just rested gently between my legs, keeping me grounded in her, while her other arm held me across my waist.

When I finally blinked open my eyes, dazed and flushed, the warm water was still rippling around us, and I was nestled between Paige’s thighs, my back to her chest, her heartbeat a steady thrum against my spine.

I sighed, limp and sleepy, my head lolling to the side against her shoulder.

“You okay?” she asked gently, brushing wet strands of hair from my face and tucking them behind my ear.

I nodded slowly, still catching my breath. “Mmmhmm… just… floaty.”

She smiled against my cheek. “Yeah? That’s good. You let go. You needed that.”

She reached for the soft cloth hanging nearby, dipping it in the warm bathwater before running it slowly over my chest and arms, rinsing the sweat and tension away like it was her privilege to do it. Every swipe was gentle, patient, like she had all night.

Her touch skimmed down my thighs and calves, then up again over my stomach. “You feel so soft right now,” she whispered. “All relaxed. Like you finally melted.”

“I think I did,” I mumbled, and she chuckled softly, placing a kiss on the shell of my ear.

The cloth moved between my legs, slow and careful, and I hissed softly at the sensitivity.

“Shhh, I got you,” she murmured, pressing another kiss to my temple. “Just cleaning you up, baby. You did so good for me.”

I hummed, leaning fully into her now, letting her support all my weight. Her arms wrapped around me again, the cloth set aside, and she just held me there in the water, her chin resting on my shoulder.

“You give so much to everything, every day,” she said quietly, her fingers trailing lazy lines over my damp stomach. “The world takes and takes. But when you come home to me… you don’t have to give anything. Just be mine. Let me love you.”

My throat tightened at her words, tears pricking the corners of my eyes from how soft she sounded, how safe it felt to be with her like this.

“I love you,” I whispered hoarsely.

“I know,” she replied, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “I love you more.”

We sat there a few minutes longer—just soaking, breathing, her arms wrapped securely around me like a blanket made of devotion.

Eventually, she kissed my cheek again and whispered, “Let’s get you cozy, yeah? Couch, blanket, snacks. My girl deserves the softest night after a day like this.”

By the time Paige helped me out of the tub, I was barely awake—my body soft, my muscles weightless, like I’d traded every ounce of tension for her touch. She wrapped me in a fluffy towel, tucking it tight around my shoulders, then pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose like I might fall apart without it.

“You’re sleep-drunk,” she teased, brushing her thumb along my cheek. “You’ve got that dumb little dazed look on your face.”

I mumbled something that probably wasn’t a real word, and she just giggled, steering me gently toward the bedroom. Her arm stayed around my waist, like she knew I’d collapse without her holding me up.

When we got to the edge of the bed, she sat me down and bent to rummage through her dresser. “No offense, baby,” she said with a smirk, glancing over her shoulder at me, “but you’re not putting your dirty clothes back on. Tonight, you’re mine—head to toe.”

I just blinked at her with a sleepy, satisfied smile.

A moment later, she returned with a pair of her boxers and a hoodie that was at least two sizes too big. The fabric was already soft from years of wear—heather gray with a faint logo on the chest and sleeves that would drown my hands.

She dropped the towel slowly, like unwrapping something fragile, then kneeled between my legs and helped me step into the boxers first. Her hands were so gentle, sliding them up my legs and over my hips before she leaned in and kissed the inside of my thigh. Her touch made me shiver even though the room was warm.

Next, she slipped the hoodie over my head, guiding my arms through the sleeves like she’d done it a thousand times. I let out a sleepy sigh as the fabric fell over me, smelling like her deodorant and that soft cotton scent I’d always associated with her skin.

“Too big?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Perfect.”

She smiled and leaned in, pressing a kiss to the center of my chest, right above where her name was embroidered from a tournament years ago. “Good. Because I want you wrapped in me all night.”

Once I was fully dressed, she kissed my cheek again and lifted me gently off the bed, arms tucked under my thighs and back.

“Paige,” I mumbled, resting my head against her collarbone. “You don’t have to carry me.”

She chuckled and started walking toward the living room anyway. “Shhh. I want to. Let me baby you properly.”

She lowered us onto the couch, setting me down on her lap with my legs stretched across the cushions. Her arms wrapped around me like I was made to fit there. She reached over with one hand to grab the throw blanket off the back of the couch and tucked it around me before settling back, pulling me flush against her.

“Want anything?” she asked softly, brushing her fingers over my knee beneath the blanket. “Water? Snacks?”

I shook my head, eyes barely open. “Just you.”

Her heart beat a little harder under my cheek, and I felt the way she smiled as she whispered, “Then you’ve got everything.”

She kissed the top of my head and grabbed the remote with her free hand, scrolling until she found one of my favorite comfort shows—the kind I could fall asleep to with my eyes half-open. She pressed play, the screen casting soft light over the two of us.

I curled into her chest, my fingers fisting the fabric of her hoodie, and let the soft rhythm of her breathing lull me.

She rubbed circles into my thigh, occasionally brushing her lips against my temple or cheek, like she couldn’t stop touching me now that I was finally relaxed.

“You were so good for me,” she murmured when the credits rolled on the first episode. “You let go, you let me love you.”

“I always let you,” I whispered.

“I know,” she said. “But tonight felt different. You needed me.”

“I always need you.”

She went quiet after that, just holding me tighter. Her lips pressed to my forehead as the second episode played quietly in the background. I was already half asleep when I heard her whisper one last thing.

“You’re everything, Y/N. And you’ll never have to carry your hard days alone—not when I’m here.”

And I believed her, because in that moment, with her heartbeat under my ear and her hoodie wrapped around my body like a hug—I didn’t feel heavy anymore. Just loved.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[chrissssssmut]

Can I request a sweeter lesserafim x inexperienced male reader smut story?

BURNING DESIRE (Smut)

Le Sserafim OT5 x Male Reader

AN: Hey y'all! Here's an OT5 smut for you guys! Have a great weekend! 💗

The energy of the concert still lingered in the air, a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion settling over the hotel suite. The five members of LE SSERAFIM had changed into comfortable clothes, their post-performance glow making them look even more ethereal than usual. The male reader, their close friend and the person who had always supported them behind the scenes, sat in the center of the plush couch, surrounded on all sides by the girls.

"That was insane," Kazuha sighed, stretching her arms above her head. "The crowd was so loud tonight. I think my ears are still ringing."

"Yeah, but did you see how hyped they got when Y/N showed up backstage?" Chaewon smirked, nudging him lightly. "I swear, some of our fans are more excited about him than us."

Y/N chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "That’s just because I’ve been around for so long. They probably see me as your lucky charm or something."

Sakura, sitting beside him, tilted her head playfully. "Maybe we do too."

The atmosphere was relaxed, but there was an undeniable weight to their gazes. Something unspoken lingered between them, thickening the air. Y/N had always felt a close bond with the members, but tonight, something was different. The way they were looking at him—soft, warm, almost too focused—sent a strange shiver down his spine.

"You’re blushing," Yunjin pointed out with a teasing grin, leaning in a little closer. "Are we making you nervous, Y/N?"

"N-no," he stammered, but the way his voice cracked at the end made them giggle.

Eunchae, sitting cross-legged on the carpet, rested her chin on her hand. "You know, we’ve always wondered something about you."

"Oh?" Y/N tried to sound casual, but his heart was already beating too fast.

Chaewon exchanged glances with the others before leaning in, lowering her voice. "You’ve never really talked about relationships. Like… have you ever been with someone?"

The question made his breath hitch. He shifted in his seat, suddenly hyper aware of how close they all were. "I mean… not really."

A beat of silence followed. Then, Sakura smiled gently. "That’s cute."

"Cute?" Y/N echoed, incredulous. "Isn’t that kind of… sad?"

"No," Kazuha reassured him, her voice soft. "It just means you haven’t been with the right person yet."

Yunjin’s fingers brushed lightly against his arm, sending a wave of warmth through him. "You know we adore you, right? You’ve always been there for us, taking care of us in ways we don’t always realize."

Eunchae nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! And you’re always so sweet to us."

Just then, Sakura stood up with a smirk and walked over to the minibar. "You know what? I think tonight calls for a little celebration." She pulled out a few bottles of liquor, making the others perk up in excitement.

"Ohhh, drinking with Y/N? This is gonna be fun!" Yunjin grinned, clapping her hands.

"Wait, wait, I don’t drink much—" Y/N started, but Chaewon was already handing him a glass, eyes twinkling.

"Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you," she teased. "Just a little something to loosen up."

They started drinking, the warmth of the alcohol settling in, making the mood even more relaxed. Their laughter grew louder, their touches lingered just a little longer, and their words became bolder.

"Alright, confession time!" Kazuha announced, pointing at Y/N. "Tell us the truth—have you ever even kissed someone before?"

Y/N nearly choked on his drink. "W-what kind of question is that?!"

"Just answer!" Eunchae giggled, already leaning forward in anticipation.

He hesitated before mumbling, "...No."

The girls gasped in unison, their eyes widening in shock and amusement.

"No way," Yunjin whispered, inching closer. "That’s… adorable."

"I don’t know if adorable is the right word," Y/N muttered, flustered beyond belief.

Chaewon tilted her head. "So… does that mean you’ve never…?"

His face burned. "Never what?"

Sakura leaned in, her voice low and teasing. "Never been with anyone, in any way?"

He covered his face with his hands. "Oh my god, why are we talking about this?"

"Because we’re curious," Kazuha giggled. "And a little tipsy."

Eunchae beamed. "It just means we get to be your firsts!"

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in. Y/N slowly lowered his hands, only to find five pairs of eyes looking at him with a mix of amusement, fondness, and something deeper.

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Chaewon asked softly, her fingers grazing his hand.

Y/N swallowed hard. His heart was racing, and yet… he wasn’t afraid. There was no pressure, no expectations—just warmth, affection, and the quiet promise of something beautiful.

"Do you trust us?" Sakura murmured.

He nodded. "Yeah. I do."

Kazuha smiled, her fingers intertwining with his. "Then let us take care of you tonight."

Y/N’s breath caught in his throat. His mind raced, but their presence, their warmth, anchored him in place. Every part of him told him that this moment was safe, that whatever happened tonight would be something beautiful.

Sakura moved in first, resting her head against his shoulder, her arms wrapping around him in a slow, comforting embrace. "We don’t want to rush you, Y/N," she whispered. "We just want you to know how much you mean to us."

"You’ve always been here for us, always putting us first," Chaewon added, her fingers tracing small patterns on his hand. "Let us be here for you now."

Yunjin sighed, leaning against the couch, eyes warm and affectionate. "You’re always thinking about other people. When’s the last time you let yourself feel special? Truly wanted?"

Y/N’s lips parted, but no words came out. His chest felt tight, overwhelmed in the best way possible. It was one thing to admire them from afar, to support them as a friend—but this? This was something else entirely.

"We love you," Kazuha murmured, her fingers tightening around his. "All of us do."

Eunchae, still on the floor, beamed up at him. "We just want you to feel loved the way you deserve to be."

The warmth of their bodies surrounding him, the softness of their words, the way they were looking at him—it was intoxicating. Y/N had never felt like this before, never felt so completely enveloped in affection.

"Just relax, Y/N," Chaewon whispered.

"We’ll take care of everything," Yunjin added, her voice laced with affection.

"You don’t have to do anything… just let us love you," Kazuha finished, her voice barely above a breath.

One by one, they inched closer to you, their warmth sinking into your skin, the faint scent of perfume and liquor lingering in the air. A brush of fingers along your arm, a thigh pressing lightly against yours—each touch slow, deliberate, testing your reaction. The space around you seemed to shrink, their soft laughter wrapping around you like a haze, their voices dipping lower, sweeter. You could feel their gazes on you, playful, affectionate, filled with something deeper.

Yunjin was the first to close the distance, her face mere inches from yours, eyes gleaming with playful intent. She lingered there, watching you carefully, waiting for any sign of hesitation—any crack in your resolve. Then, without warning, she shifted to your side, her lips brushing against your earlobe in a featherlight kiss.

"Do we make you nervous, Y/N?" she whispered, her voice dripping with amusement.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry as your mind scrambled for words. "Uhm… uhmm… uhh…" Every attempt at a response crumbled before it could form, leaving you stammering helplessly.

Yunjin let out a low chuckle, her lips curving into a knowing smile. She bit down on her lower lip, tilting her head slightly as she studied your flustered expression. "I guess that’s a yes," she mused, her voice laced with amusement and something deeper—something teasing, almost predatory.

Before you could even think of a way to recover, you felt her hand settle on your thigh. Her fingers, warm and deliberate, began tracing slow, featherlight circles against the fabric of your pants. The heat of her touch seeped through, sending an unexpected shiver up your spine.

"You’re so cute when you get all shy like this," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper as she leaned in closer. "It makes me wanna tease you even more…"

A chorus of soft giggles surrounded you as the other girls watched, their gazes filled with warmth and mischief. You could feel the heat of their presence pressing in from all sides, their bodies inching just a little closer, their touches lingering just a little longer.

"Let Yunjin do her thing," Chaewon purred, her voice soft but filled with unmistakable intent.

"But don’t worry," Kazuha added, her fingers trailing along your arm. "We’re all gonna take care of you."

Sakura smiled, her eyes dark with something unreadable. "We just want you to know how much we love and appreciate you… for everything."

Eunchae beamed up at you, her voice sweet but filled with anticipation. "So just relax, Y/N. Let us show you."

The air felt heavier now, charged with something undeniable. Your heart pounded in your chest as the warmth of their touches, their voices, their closeness—all of it—began to overwhelm you.

A shiver ran down your spine as Yunjin’s soft lips ghosted over your skin, trailing slow, delicate kisses from your neck to your jaw. Each touch sent warmth coursing through your body, the tenderness behind them making your heart pound even harder. By the time her lips finally brushed against yours, you could feel just how deliberate every movement was—gentle yet intoxicating, as if she wanted to savor every second.

Her hand drifted lower, fingers tracing lazy patterns along your torso before reaching the waistband of your pants. She toyed with the fabric, her touch featherlight yet teasing, making your breath hitch..

A knowing smirk curled on Yunjin’s lips as her fingers toyed with the waistband of your pants, her touch unbearably light. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, voice dripping with seduction, "Mmm… look at you. So eager, so sensitive. Are you this excited just for me, baby?"

I swallowed hard, my breath shaky as I felt the heat pooling in my body. “Y-Yunjin… what are you doing to me?” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, laced with both nervousness and anticipation.

Yunjin pressed a finger against my lips, her eyes dark with amusement. "Shhh, no talking," she whispered, her voice dripping with sultry command. Her hand traced a slow, deliberate path downward, slipping beneath the waistband of my boxers. A sharp inhale left my lips as her fingers wrapped around my length, featherlight and teasing. She stroked me slowly, her touch agonizingly gentle, as if savoring the feeling. She captured my mouth in another kiss—this time even deeper.

She stroked me slowly—gentle enough to show they wanted to take care of me, yet firm enough to remind me that this was real. That this was happening. Every stroke sent a shiver down my spine, a moan slipping past my lips no matter how hard I tried to hold it back. The other girls watched intently, their eyes dark with desire, amusement flickering in their gazes as they took in the sight of me unraveling.

I swallowed hard, my voice shaky. “T-This feels… so—ah…“ I barely managed to get the words out before another moan escaped, my head tilting back as pleasure clouded my senses.

Yunjin chuckled, her breath warm against my ear. “You’re doing so well… just let yourself feel it, okay?”

Chaewon glanced up at me, her lips curling into a soft smile before letting her tongue trace along my length. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered, Y/N,” she murmured between slow, lingering licks.

Yunjin chuckled beside me, her grip steady as she continued stroking me with that same intoxicating tenderness. “We want you to feel good,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to my jaw. “Just let us take care of you Y/N, okay?”

I let out a shaky breath, my body already giving in to their touch. “I… I don’t even know what to say…” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Chaewon giggled, her fingers tracing small patterns along my thighs. “Then don’t say anything,” she cooed. “Be a good boy, Y/N.”

As Yunjin’s hand continued its slow, deliberate strokes—slick with Chaewon’s warmth—the other girls began peeling away their clothes, their eyes filled with nothing but love and adoration. My head felt light, completely lost in the overwhelming rush of sensations, my body surrendering to the warmth of their touches and whispers.

Sakura let out a soft giggle as she slipped her top off, her voice gentle and soothing. “You’re doing so well for us, baby… such a good boy.”

Kazuha ran a hand through her silky hair, eyes filled with admiration. “We’re so proud of you, Y/N. Just let go, okay? Let us take care of you.”

Eunchae playfully traced a finger down my chest, her smile sweet and reassuring. “You don’t have to think about anything, just feel us. You deserve all of this.”

Yunjin leaned in closer, her breath warm against my ear as she tightened her grip just enough to make me whimper. “That’s right, baby… just be good for us. We’ve been waiting so long to love you like this.”

The intoxicating scent of liquor and lingering warmth of intimacy filled the room, wrapping around us like a haze. Every touch, every whispered praise, every lingering kiss was cherished by the girls—each of them taking their time, savoring the moment as they guided me through my first experience with nothing but love and devotion in their eyes.

As Yunjin’s strokes slowed to a stop, she gave my length one last squeeze before pulling away with a teasing smirk. Kazuha, who had been watching intently, gently moved Chaewon aside, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face as she spoke.

“You had your fun, unnie,” Kazuha murmured with a soft giggle. “But I think it’s time we show him just how much we’ve always wanted this… how much we’ve always wanted him.”

She turned her gaze to me, eyes filled with warmth and something deeper—something longing. She ran her fingers along my chest, tracing slow, delicate patterns as she leaned in, her lips barely ghosting over mine.

“You’ve been so good for us, Y/N,” Kazuha whispered, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Now… let me show you how it feels to be inside me—to finally be where you belong.”

The other girls watched closely, their eyes dark with affection and desire.

“Mm, he looks so cute when he’s flustered,” Sakura cooed, her voice like silk. “Don’t be nervous, baby.”

Yunjin let out a soft hum, tilting her head. “Just relax, love… let Kazuha show you how much we love you.”

Kazuha’s fingers trailed lower, her touch featherlight as she kissed me again—slow and deep, as if she wanted me to feel every ounce of her adoration.

As Kazuha shifted, she hooked her fingers around the lace of her panties, moving them to the side with a teasing slowness. Her eyes never left mine—soft yet filled with unspoken longing.

She positioned herself carefully, her breath hitching as she slowly sank down onto my cock. A shiver ran through both of us as I felt her warmth completely envelop me, drawing a deep moan from my lips.

Kazuha let out a soft gasp, her hands pressing against my chest for balance. “Oh… Y/N,” she whispered, her voice laced with both pleasure and affection. “You feel… so perfect inside me.”

The other girls watched with a mixture of adoration and excitement.

"That’s it, baby," Sakura purred, her fingers lightly tracing my jaw. "Let yourself feel everything… let her take care of you."

"You’re doing so well," Eunchae added sweetly, her eyes shining. "Such a good boy for us."

Yunjin smirked, her lips brushing against my ear. "Feels good, doesn’t it?" she murmured. "She’s been dreaming about this moment just as much as you have… we all have."

Kazuha let out a shaky breath as she started to move, her hands gripping my shoulders for support. “Just let go, Y/N,” she whispered, her lips grazing mine. “Let us love you the way you deserve.”

Kazuha’s movements were slow and deliberate at first, each roll of her hips filled with tenderness, as if she wanted me to feel every inch of her warmth. Her flexibility became evident with the way she moved—graceful, controlled, yet so intoxicatingly sensual.

As her pace quickened slightly, it wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was just enough to make me feel everything—every soft, wet, pulsing sensation inside her. My breath hitched, my hands instinctively finding her waist, gripping her gently as she took me deeper into her heat.

Kazuha let out a soft, breathy moan, her fingers tightening against my chest. “Mmm… Y/N… you fit so perfectly,” she whispered, her voice dripping with affection.

Chaewon brushed a hand through Kazuha’s hair, tucking loose strands behind her ear. “Take your time, Zuha,” she cooed. “Make him feel just how much we adore him.”

“You’re so good for us, baby,” Yunjin murmured, pressing a kiss to my jaw. “Just relax… let her take care of you.”

Kazuha met my gaze, her lips curving into a sweet, breathless smile. “You like it, don’t you?” she asked, her voice filled with warmth. “Being loved by all of us like this?”

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers gently gripping Kazuha’s waist as she continued to move. “I… I love being with you all,” I murmured, my voice laced with both affection and pleasure. “Spending time with you, laughing with you… it’s always been special. But this—” I paused, swallowing hard as another wave of warmth enveloped me. “This feels so different… so intense.”

Kazuha’s movements didn’t stop, her soft, rhythmic motions sending shivers down my spine. She leaned in closer, her lips hovering near mine. “That’s because we love you,” she whispered sweetly. “And we want you to feel just how much.”

Eunchae ran her fingers through my hair, placing a lingering kiss on my temple. “That’s right, baby,” she cooed. “We’ve always wanted to show you just how precious you are to us.”

Sakura giggled softly from the side, her bare skin glowing under the dim light. “And you’re being so good for us, Y/N,” she praised. “Such a good boy to your 5 exclusive girlfriends.”

Kazuha moaned softly as she rolled her hips a little deeper, her fingers intertwining with mine. “So just let go,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to my lips. “Let us love you the way you deserve.”

Kazuha let out a soft moan as she felt me twitch inside her, her hands pressing gently against my chest as she slowed to a stop. She gazed down at me, warmth filling her eyes. “Not yet, sweetheart,” she murmured, brushing a few strands of hair from my face. “Let’s make this last.”

Turning her head, she signaled to Sakura and Eunchae. Without a word, Sakura crawled closer, her fingers delicately tracing my jaw before pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “You’re being so good for us,” she whispered against my skin.

Eunchae giggled, her touch featherlight as she ran her hand along my arm. “Hope you’re ready, Y/N…”

Kazuha slowly lifted herself from my cock, a quiet whimper leaving her lips before she leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to my cheek. “I’ll be right here,” she whispered.

My breath hitched as I looked up at Sakura and Eunchae. Their eyes were filled with love, their touches tender, and I could feel it—this wasn’t just desire. It was something much deeper. And the night was far from over.

Sakura and Eunchae shared a knowing glance before lowering themselves, their warm breaths ghosting over my sensitive skin. Their tongues flicked out, tracing slow, deliberate paths along my cock—one after the other, alternating between teasing licks and gentle kisses, as if savoring every inch of me.

A shudder ran through my body, my breath hitching as their slick touches sent waves of pleasure through me. Eunchae giggled, her fingers wrapping around my cock before pressing it against her cheek, her soft skin warm against me. “You’re so cute when you’re like this,” she murmured, flashing me an innocent smile that contrasted with the way her hand caressed me.

Sakura, still close, placed a kiss just above where Eunchae’s grip was, her lips barely brushing against my heated skin. “Such a good boy,” she whispered, her voice sweet and full of adoration. “You’re taking everything so well, letting us love you the way you deserve.”

Their words wrapped around me like a warm embrace, making it impossible to think, to do anything but surrender to their touch.

Eunchae’s touch was gentle yet reassuring as she guided my hands, placing them atop their heads with a sweet, encouraging smile. “Here,” she whispered, nuzzling against my thigh. “Hold onto us… don’t be shy.”

Her warmth, her voice—it all felt so comforting, even in a moment so intense. My fingers tangled into their soft hair, gripping just enough to feel them beneath my touch. They let out soft hums of approval before turning their attention back to my cock, their tongues meeting at my tip before slowly trailing down my length, taking their time to savor every inch.

I couldn’t help the moans that escaped me, my body trembling as they worshipped me with each slick stroke of their tongues. “F-Fuck…” I groaned, my voice barely above a whisper, overwhelmed by their devotion.

Eunchae giggled against me, the vibrations sending a shockwave through my core. “Mmm, we love hearing you like this,” she purred, her lips brushing against my sensitive skin. “Just let it all out, okay? We want you to feel everything…”

As Sakura and Eunchae continued their slow, sweet worship of my cock, Chaewon crawled closer, her presence undeniable as she straddled my face. Her breath was warm, her voice soft yet commanding as she ran her fingers through my hair.

“Be a good boy for me,” she whispered, her tone laced with affection and need. “You’ve been feeling so good, right? Now… return the favor.”

She lowered herself gently, her soaked pussy pressing against my lips. The scent of her arousal filled my senses, dizzying and intoxicating. My hands instinctively gripped her thighs, pulling her closer as I hesitantly flicked my tongue against her entrance.

Chaewon let out a shaky moan, her fingers tightening in my hair. “Mmm, that’s it,” she cooed, her hips rolling slowly. “Just like that… you’re such a fast learner.”

I kept working my tongue on Chaewon, each flick making her moan, her grip tightening as she held onto Yunjin and Kazuha for support. Her thighs trembled slightly, and I could feel her body reacting to every movement of my tongue.

“Mmm, just like that,” she breathed out, her fingers threading through my hair before tugging me closer. “I’m so wet for you, Y/N. You’re doing so good love.”

Her praise sent a rush of warmth through me, fueling my eagerness to please her. Every moan, every shaky breath she let out only made me want to hear more. I adjusted my movements, finding the spot that made her body jolt, and when I focused there, she gasped, her grip tightening.

“Fuck—keep going,” she whimpered, her voice dripping with pleasure. “You’re making me feel so good, baby.”

Chaewon’s grip on my hair tightened, her nails lightly scratching my scalp as her thighs trembled around my head. “I’m—ahh, I’m gonna—” Her voice broke into a desperate whimper, her breathing ragged as her body tensed. But I didn’t stop. If anything, the way she gasped and shuddered only pushed me to go harder, my tongue flicking and circling over her most sensitive spot, determined to pull her over the edge.

Her hips bucked instinctively against my mouth, her moans growing louder, more frantic. “Oh—Y/N—” she cried, her body finally giving in as her release crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her thighs clenched around my head, her entire body shaking as she came undone. I felt her sweetness coat my lips and chin, her taste intoxicating as I eagerly lapped up every last drop.

Chaewon’s body slumped forward, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Her fingers stayed tangled in my hair as she tried to steady herself, her thighs still quivering from the aftershocks. “F-Fuck…” she whimpered, her voice breathy and dazed. “You’re so good at this, baby…”

She finally let go, lifting herself slightly, her flushed face filled with satisfaction as she gazed down at me. “You really know how to take care of your girls, don’t you?” she teased, her lips curving into a satisfied smirk.

Yunjin’s fingers trailed up my chest, leaving a trail of warmth as she pressed me firmly against the wall. Her touch was confident, yet the way she looked at me—dark, filled with longing—held an unmistakable tenderness. She reached for the two shot glasses on the nearby table, handing me one before clinking it against hers. “Drink with me,” she whispered, her lips curling into a small, teasing smile.

I obeyed, the burn of the liquor spreading through my throat, mixing with the heat already simmering between us. Before I could fully process the sensation, Yunjin pulled me closer, her breath fanning against my lips. Slowly, she backed me up until my spine was flush against the wall. Her hands gripped my waist, her body pressing against mine, the space between us nonexistent.

“I want to try something a little different,” she murmured, her voice lower, more sultry. “I want to be a little rough with you this time… but don’t worry, baby. I’ll still be gentle. I’ll still show you just how much I love you.”

There was no hesitation in her movements as she lifted one leg, hooking it against the wall beside me, her flexibility on full display. Her other hand reached between us, wrapping around my cock—still slick from the attention Sakura and Eunchae had given me—guiding me to her entrance. I could feel the warmth of her pussy pressing against my tip, teasing me, coaxing me forward.

She didn’t take me in immediately. Instead, she took her time, rolling her hips forward just enough to let me feel the slick heat of her, dragging my length through her folds in slow, deliberate strokes. A breathy moan escaped her lips, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she looked at me again, pupils blown wide with desire.

“Look at me, Y/N,” she murmured, her voice soft but commanding, fingers gently cupping my jaw. “I want to see those pretty eyes when I take you.”

I swallowed hard, my head spinning—not just from the alcohol but from her, from the way she made me feel like the center of her universe. And then, finally, she sank down onto me, inch by inch, her warmth enveloping me in a way that had me gasping. Her nails dug into my shoulders as she let out a shaky breath, her body adjusting to mine, fitting together like we were meant for this.

Yunjin pressed her forehead against mine, her lips ghosting over my own as she whispered, “That’s it, baby. You feel so good inside me… just like I knew you would.”

As Yunjin continued to ride me, her movements slow yet deliberate, the other girls moved closer, surrounding us in a haze of warmth and desire. Their hands traced along her body, soft fingers caressing her skin as if worshipping the sight before them.

Chaewon was the first to lean in, her lips brushing against Yunjin’s shoulder before trailing up to the curve of her jaw. “You look so beautiful like this, unnie,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss just beneath Yunjin’s ear.

Sakura, never one to be left behind, tilted Yunjin’s chin toward her and captured her lips in a deep, sensual kiss. A quiet moan slipped from Yunjin’s mouth as their tongues tangled, the vibration of it sending a jolt of pleasure straight through me. Her pace faltered for a moment, her walls clenching around me in response to the overwhelming sensations from all around her.

Kazuha and Eunchae weren’t far behind. Kazuha’s hands slid down Yunjin’s back, pulling her closer, while Eunchae placed teasing kisses along her collarbone. “You’re taking such good care of him, unnie,” Eunchae whispered, her voice filled with admiration. “We should reward you, don’t you think?”

Yunjin pulled away from Sakura’s kiss, her breath heavy as she looked down at me with dark, love-filled eyes. A teasing smile played on her lips as she cupped my face with both hands. “Looks like we all love you a little too much, baby,” she whispered, her hips rolling down onto me with a bit more pressure. “I hope you’re ready… because we’re not stopping until we’ve completely ruined you.”

Yunjin’s pace grew erratic, her body pressing even closer against mine as we both teetered on the edge. My breaths came in desperate pants, my grip on her tightening as my climax built up to an inevitable peak.

“I-I’m gonna cum…” I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper.

The girls’ eyes sparkled with anticipation, their hands still tracing over my body, leaving kisses and love bites in their wake. But before anyone else could speak, Chaewon smirked and spoke up.

“Yunjin should have him first,” she declared, her tone soft yet decisive. “The rest of us will get our turns… but for now, let her feel everything.”

The others giggled, nodding in agreement. “Mmm, it’s only fair,” Kazuha purred, running her fingers along my chest. “We’ll just make sure he doesn’t forget about us after.”

Yunjin tightened her hold around my neck, pressing her forehead against mine. “That’s right… give it all to me, baby,” she whispered, her voice dripping with need. “I want to feel your cum completely… let me have all of you.”

With one last deep thrust, I came undone inside her, my entire body shuddering as I spilled deep into her warmth. Yunjin let out a breathy moan, her grip on me tightening as she trembled from the sensation.

“Mmm… so warm,” she murmured, biting her lip as she rocked her hips just a little more, as if savoring every drop. “You’re so deep inside me, baby… I can feel everything.”

Sakura let out a dreamy sigh as she pressed a soft kiss against my shoulder. “That was beautiful… but don’t think we’re done just yet.”

Kazuha giggled, her fingers gently tracing patterns on my chest as she leaned in closer. “So?” she purred, her voice like silk. “How was that for your first time?”

I let out a breathy chuckle, still trying to catch my breath. “That was… the best first experience ever,” I admitted, my voice laced with lingering pleasure.

Kazuha smirked, her eyes filled with mischief as she pressed a soft kiss against my jaw. “Good,” she murmured. “Because you still have four more pussies to fill up.”

As my breathing slowed, I felt the warmth of their bodies surrounding me. Yunjin traced soft patterns on my chest, pressing a lingering kiss to my jaw. Sakura pulled me into her arms, whispering sweet nothings as Chaewon stroked my hair. Kazuha giggled, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "That was just the first round, you know."

I let out a tired chuckle, my body completely spent. "I don’t think I can even move right now…"

Eunchae playfully pouted, her fingers dancing across my skin. "Aww, but we’re not done showing you how much we love you."

The girls exchanged mischievous glances before snuggling closer, their hands still exploring, their lips pressing lazy kisses onto my flushed skin. Yunjin smirked, cupping my face gently. "You’re ours now, Y/N. Always."

I sighed, melting into their touch, my heart pounding—not just from what had happened, but from what was still to come.

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 8

paige x azzi

warning: mentions blood, fighting

word count: 8.9k

a/n: hi guys 🫣 so sorry for leaving you on a cliffhanger last chapter but it needed to be done lol. i hope this chapter brings you a little comfort as much as it’ll make you sick to your stomach! i was harassed to post without minimal proof reading so please let me know if there’s any mistakes. like always feel free to leave comments, reactions or ideas 🫶🏼

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Azzi laid curled in Paige’s bed, the usually warm sheets cold around her, with the smell of Paige lingering heavily in the fabric. Tears silently slipped down her cheeks, soaking into the pillow as she stared across the empty space all night.

She got up and left at the first sight of sunrise that morning after taking a long shower and putting on some of Paige’s clothes. Before leaving she grabbed Paige’s spare set of keys not wanting to leave her house unlocked.

Three days passed before Azzi had calmed her mind enough to format a few texts but they went undelivered meaning Paige’s phone was off. So Azzi tried to be patient. She told herself that Paige needed space just like she’d taken herself three days before reaching out. Told herself that maybe she was in the gym every hour of every day again, working through whatever was sure to be going on in her head. But by day six, it felt like the silence was clawing at her throat and she felt sick knowing she played a part in whatever Paige was feeling.

When Cam’s name lit up her phone on day six, Azzi swiped to answer it immediately.

“Hey,” she said, her voice completely horse after not using it for days.

“You okay?” Cam asked tentatively.

“Yeah…Have you heard from Paige?”

Cam paused. “No. I was actually calling to ask you that. I think her dumbass broke her phone again or something; none of my texts are going through and my calls are going straight to voicemail.”

Azzi’s stomach lurched when she realized Cam didn’t know anything either. “We got into a fight,” she said quietly, her eyes locking on the far corner of the room so they didn’t start glossing over again. She really didn’t have the energy to cry anymore. “A few nights ago. Almost a week.”

She could hear Cam shifting on the other end of the line. “What kind of fight?”

Azzi let out a humorless laugh. She knew she was being a little rude but God it felt like a stupid ass question. “A fight, Cam. What do you mean what kind?”

Cam was quiet for a moment and Azzi could feel the tension building through the phone in that silence.

“I just…I need details. Whatever you wanna give me so I know what’s going on with her,” Cam said her voice strung a little tight. “Paige doesn’t turn her phone off like this. Yes she get’s upset and goes MIA but I always know where she is, she always at least checks in.”

Azzi closed her eyes, wiping at the tear that dropped to her cheek harshly. “She was in her gym when I showed up late to her house. She was already…not okay. Frustrated.”

“Ok and what happened?”

“I tried to get her to come inside and we went back and forth for a little bit…I brought up the club and she got defensive so I got frustrated. It just spiraled before I could figure out what was going on in my head.”

Cam stayed silent as she listened to what happened.

Azzi’s voice cracked. “I fucking flinched, Cam.”

Cam blinked on the other end confused. “What? What do you mean?”

Azzi covered her face trying to stop the tears, she was so fucking tired of crying. “She was trying to calm things down saying she didn’t wanna fight and she reached for me, wanted to grab my face like she always does…she does it everyday Cam.” She chokes back a sob before continuing. “But I flinched before she could even touch me.”

The line was quiet so Azzi just kept going, talking about it for the first time.

“She didn’t even do anything wrong, Cam. She was just trying to stop the fight before it got bad,” Azzi whispered. “And I flinched like I thought she was going to hurt me. The way she looked after that…” Azzi let out a choked breath. “She looked so…broken. Like I destroyed her. Like she couldn’t believe I thought she could ever…” She didn’t finish the sentence as she sucked in a deep breath.

Cam exhaled slowly, her own worry starting to rise knowing how Paige was. “Fuck.”

“I swear to God I know she’d never hurt me,” Azzi said. “I swear I know. I just wasn’t thinking and everything happened so fast.”

Cam didn’t say anything for a few moments then she said, “I’m coming over.”

“Cam—”

“I’m coming Azzi. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Azzi didn’t bother to argue with her, she didn’t have the energy to be honest. She just sat on the edge of the bed, wiping her eyes and staring at her phone like she could will Paige’s name to appear on the screen.

Cam didn’t say much when she got to Azzi’s house that night. She just took off her shoes at the door, climbed in the bed behind Azzi, and wrapped her arms around her like she’d done a thousand times for Paige before. She didn’t offer any empty words that probably wouldn’t help. Just the warmth and the sound of someone else breathing that Azzi had been missing for days.

By morning, Cam was already on her phone calling people. Azzi stirred awake when she felt her shift on the bed, her eyes blinking open to find Cam’s eyebrows drawn tight and her voice low as she spoke to someone who clearly didn’t have the answers she was looking for.

When Cam turned and noticed that Azzi was awake the first thing she said was, “She’s not at the cabin or anywhere in Minnesota.” She lowered her phone before adding “And she hasn’t been back to her house either.”

Azzi sat up, her throat already tight for the day before she could brush her teeth. “Then where else can she be?”

Cam didn’t answer because she didn’t know. She stared at the screen in her hand for a while before feeling like an idiot for not thinking of this sooner. When she realized she scrolled through her contacts and tapped one name and held the phone to her ear.

It rang once. Twice and then a third time.

Azzi felt like her heart climbed higher with each one and she didn’t even know who Cam was calling.

Then the fourth ring cut off.

“Hey,” DiJonai’s voice echoed through the phone. “She’s with me. Stop worrying.”

Cam exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for days and Azzi’s head snapped toward her when she heard it.

“She’s okay?” Cam asked, already putting the phone on speaker so Azzi could hear.

There was a long pause. “No not really,” DiJonai said.

Cam frowned. “Is she telling you anything?”

“No,” Nai replied. “She won’t talk to me about whatever happened. She just showed up at my door at four in the morning looking like somebody shot her damn puppy in front of her and she’s been like that all week. Won’t eat much unless I literally force her. I don’t think she’s been sleeping either. Just…off somewhere in her head all day.”

Cam’s heart dropped hearing the state of her sister. “How in her head?”

DiJonai sighed. “I don’t know…I’ve never seen her like this honestly and you know there’s been some shit.”

Cam looked at Azzi whose face was unreadable as she looked at the phone. “Can you give her the phone?”

DiJonai sighed again before saying, “Yeah hold on I’ll try.”

A moment passed then they heard footsteps and a door opening. There were muffled voices before the clear sound of DiJonai saying, “Just stop being an asshole and let her hear that you’re alive.”

Azzi clutched the blanket tighter around her legs as her eyes locked on the phone like it might will Paige to pop up in front of her.

There was a moment of static and shuffling, then a voice barely made it through the speaker sounding cracked and hoarse. “…Hello.”

Cam exhaled sharply. “I should kill you Paige.”

Another beat of silence. Then Paige’s voice came through again dryly, “That might not be so bad right now.”

A loud thump came through the phone, followed by a muffled “Ow.” An unmistakable play by play of DiJonai smacking the hell out of her.

Cam rubbed her temple. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing, Cam,” Paige mumbled.

“You’ve got a fight in three weeks,” Cam reminded her gently, even though she was 100% sure Paige hadn’t forgotten.

“I know.”

“You ready?”

“No.”

Cam’s chest rose. “You gonna be ready?”

A pause and a fake laugh. “No.” Paige’s voice sounded empty. Completely detached from the present and it scared Cam more than anything else.

“Do we need to cancel it?” Cam asked carefully.

“I’ll be ight,” Paige stated. “If not, I’ll just get a real nice and deserved ass whooping out of it. Maybe finally find out what it’s like to get knocked out, you know.”

“That’s not funny Paige.”

“Well.”

Cam looked over at Azzi, whose eyes hadn’t moved from the phone once. Her eyes were glossy and her fingers were tight where they gripped her blanket.

Cam decided to ask what she already knew. “You talked to Azzi lately?”

There was a long pause at the question. Then Paige’s voice came back, somehow sounding more distant than it was before. “Why’d you call?”

Cam blinked, not surprised by the deflection. “Because your phone’s off and you’ve never done that before. I was worried.”

Silence again, suggesting Paige was done with the conversation. Cam didn’t wait to hear the inevitable dial tone. “Have you talked to Azzi?”

“Why are you asking me about her?”

“Why are you avoiding the question?”

Paige was too exhausted to go back and forth so she just closed her eyes. When she spoke again her voice had softened in the worst kind of way. “I fucked it up,” she said, like the words hurt her throat to say. “So I’m just…not tryna talk about it right now.”

Azzi looked down, her nails digging into her palms. Cam saw it but didn’t say anything. She just pressed Paige for a better answer “How’d you mess it up?”

There was a rustle on the other end. DiJonai must’ve moved toward her or something, but the line stayed quiet for a few seconds before Paige finally spoke.

“She was just tryin’ to talk to me that night and I was so far in my own head I couldn’t see straight. She brought up the club and…I got defensive. I thought she didn’t get why I did what I did. Like she was just trying to write it off as me being—I don’t know. I wasn’t trying to prove anything. He put his hands on her, Cam.” Her voice was shaking, despite how flat it sounded.

“And I didn’t wanna argue with her Cam. I swear I didn’t. She’s everything to me I lo—” Cam took the phone off speaker when she heard her starting to break down.

Azzi had to turn her head away as tears hit her collarbone. Cam put a hand gently on her back.

“I should’ve been calmer. I should’ve put my hands in my pocket or something. Done more to make her feel safe but I didn’t and that’s on me. All of it.”

Cam swallowed hard, her tone gentler now. “Do you want to talk to her?”

There was a long pause. Then Paige’s voice came so small it barely carried over the speaker “…She’s with you?”

Azzi squeezed her eyes shut from not being able to hear Paige’s response.

Cam looked at Azzi with a soft smile in her eyes. “She’s been calling and texting you,” she said gently into the phone.

There was hesitation on the other end. A shuffle. DiJonai’s voice carried softly, saying, “It’s ok.” Paige finally spoke, “Can you…can you give her the phone? Only if she wants it.”

Cam held it out.

Azzi took it with a trembling hand, wiping the tears that had already fallen. She held the phone up to her ear and cleared her throat lightly. She spoke first but her voice cracked around the edges. “Hey.”

On the other end, there was a long exhale. Like Paige had been holding her breath for days. “I’m so sorry,” she said, and even over the phone, the weight of her tone landed deeply in Azzi’s chest..

“You don’t need to apologize,” Azzi said quietly.

“Yes, I do,” Paige replied softly. “I never should’ve—” She stopped herself, took a long, shaky breath. When she spoke again, her voice was barely audible. “I miss you.”

Azzi closed her eyes, tightening her grip on the phone. “I miss you too.”

A quietness filled the space between them.

At almost the same time , Cam stepped out of Azzi’s room and DiJonai quietly exited her guest room, leaving them alone.

There was a pause in the soft static of silence before Paige’s voice came through, horsley. “Have you been eating?”

Azzi took a breath. “I’m trying.” Then after a second she added, “You?”

“I’m…cutting,” Paige said after a small hesitation.

“You don’t start cutting until two weeks before your fight.”

Paige didn’t respond.

Azzi waited with her lips pressed together. Paige tugged at the edge of the blanket wrapped around her legs, curling into herself just a little, her silence saying more than anything she could say.

Gently, Azzi asked, “Are we going to talk about it?”

Paige’s voice was soft as she said. “Of course. Just not over the phone.”

Azzi nodded even though Paige couldn’t see her. “Are you coming back soon?”

“I can’t. Not until the fight,” Paige said.

“Why?”

Paige stared at the ceiling, trying to swallow down the words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to say that she hadn’t trained since that night. That every time she so much as thought about getting in the cage, all she could see was Azzi flinching. That the image of the woman she loved looking afraid of her was lodged somewhere deep in her bones, making it impossible to move.

“There’s an extra trainer down here in Dallas,” she said instead. “Thought I’d take advantage of that.”

Azzi knew Paige was lying. She could tell by her voice but she didn’t push. “You don’t feel ready?” she asked instead.

“I got a lot of catching up to do,” Paige said.

The line went quiet again, both of them teetering on the edge of something delicate and not wanting to say the wrong thing.

Then, softly, Azzi asked, “Do you think we’re going to be okay?”

Paige’s voice broke gently through the silence. “I think we’re talking…and that counts for something right?”

Without speaking, both girls slowly shifted to lay on their sides, mirroring each other across state lines. Phones cradled against their cheeks, tucked into pillows. The air between them was still tentative, still filled with a slight tension and recent pain but it wasn’t unbearable anymore after hearing each other's voices.

There were small silences, tiny hesitations as they talked, unsure of how to be anything but soft with each other right now.

Paige found herself smiling, just a little, just from hearing Azzi’s voice. Her cadence, her sighs when her girlfriend said something a little outlandish, the quiet way she said Paige’s name like it still meant something to her.

And Azzi, she felt her chest loosen for the first time in a week. Like maybe she hadn’t ruined everything. Maybe she hadn’t completely broken the woman she loved. She still had a piece of her even after that night.

They stayed like that, talking about nothing and everything, until the weight between them started to shift just enough to make breathing easier.

…

Those three weeks with Paige in Dallas and Azzi in LA were hell for both of them, respectfully.

In Dallas, Paige didn’t so much live as exist. Days passed like static, one bleeding into the next. She now slept too much and barely ate, only getting through meals when DiJonai sat in front of her like a sentry with her arms crossed, waiting for every last bite to disappear from the plate.

It wasn’t until two weeks before the fight that DiJonai had enough of Paige not training.

So she yanked Paige out of bed early that morning. She didn’t say a word as she threw a hoodie at her aggressively, and drove them to the gym in complete silence. Paige didn’t ask where they were going, she didn’t really care. She just stared out the window, her thoughts drifting everywhere but where she was.

The second they stepped inside the empty gym, DiJonai threw a pair of gloves at her. They hit her chest and dropped to the floor. She didn’t bend to pick them up, just looked at them.

“What are we doing here?” Paige asked flatly.

“You have a fight in two weeks,” DiJonai said, already starting to stretch on the mat.

“I know.”

“So you need to train.”

“I said I know.”

DiJonai turned around with her jaw clenched. “Then put the damn gloves on, idiot.”

Paige didn’t move. “I’m fine.”

“You haven’t thrown a punch in three weeks.”

“I’ve been working out.”

“Jogging on the treadmill and lifting half your usual weight isn’t working out. It’s you bullshitting.”

Paige just stared at her.

“You do realize you’re risking your life, right?” DiJonai snapped, her frustration bubbling over.

Paige’s jaw clenched as she looked away. “You think I don’t know that?”

“No, I think you’re so in your head about other shit that you’re forgetting what stepping into a fight means.” DiJonai took a step closer. “This isn’t some play fight, Paige. This isn’t sparring or an exhibition. You know this shit is real. If you go in there half-assed, half-ready, half-whatever it is you’re fucking feeling you don’t come out the same.”

Silence.

DiJonai’s voice changed. “I can’t watch you do that to yourself…I won’t. And I think you knew that and that’s why you came here instead of going to Minnesota. You know I won’t coddle you like everyone else will.”

Paige’s eyes flicked to the gloves on the ground but she couldn’t bring herself to move.

DiJonai just waited. Her patience wasn’t infinite, but her care for Paige had been since they met for some reason. It was one of the reasons they got along so well.

Paige’s eyes flicked to the gloves on the ground again.

“Put them on,” DiJonai said again, quieter this time.

“I can’t,” Paige said, her voice cracking.

“Why the fuck not, Paige?”

Paige’s jaw clenched as she looked everywhere but at DiJonai. Her voice came out defeated when she spoke. “Cam told you about the club, I’m assuming.”

DiJonai gave her a small nod, her eyebrows narrowing. “Yeah…what about it?”

Paige exhaled like the weight of the night was sitting directly on her lungs. “After that night Azzi was just off. She thought I didn’t notice but I could tell it freaked her out and I just—I was so mad at myself for letting her see me like that and our argument just confirmed everything I already knew.”

DiJonai folded her arms across her chest. “Okay…but Paige, you knocked some dude out for smacking your girlfriend's ass. You did exactly what every damn testosterone-filled man would’ve done.”

“I know,” Paige mumbled, still clearly upset with herself.

“I’m not saying it was the right thing,” DiJonai added quickly, “but Azzi’s overreacting a little.”

Paige’s head snapped up at that. “She’s not,” she said simply. “She’s not overreacting. Don’t say she can’t feel how she does.”

“She is,” DiJonai insisted, calmly. “You’re acting like you blacked out and don’t remember what happened. You didn’t. You lost your cool because some idiot violated your girlfriend and you’re a natural protector. There’s a difference.”

“You weren’t there.”

“No, I wasn’t,” DiJonai agreed. “But if you had actually blacked out, like everybody keeps claiming, you wouldn’t have stopped when security got involved. You would’ve swung on them. You would’ve left him with more than a fucked up nose and a busted cheek. But you didn’t. You stopped.”

Paige shook her head. “I lost it Nai.”

“Yeah you snapped. That’s not the same as being out of control,” DiJonai pushed. “You’re scared because you think this proves something about you but it doesn’t.”

“It proves I’m not who she thinks I am,” Paige mumbled.

“No, it proves you’re human,” DiJonai said back. “One who cares clearly. You snapped because someone disrespected the person you love, not whatever story you’ve been narrating in your head.”

Paige didn’t respond, her hands just trembled slightly even thinking about putting on the gloves.

DiJonai took a small step closer so they were face to face. “She’s scared, I get that. I understand that she has the right to feel what she feels. But don’t twist that into thinking you’re not worthy of her or love or whatever dramatic ass scenarios I know you’re coming up with. You messed up, that’s it.”

Paige looked down at the mat, her voice suddenly small. “She flinched Nai.”

Paige’s eyes brimmed with tears but they didn’t fall. “When we were arguing. I raised my voice a lil bit and I ain’t like that so I was tryna stop the argument and she flinched like I was gonna…like I was gonna hit her.” Her throat bobbed hard as she choked on her own breath. “That’s not something even you can explain away. That’s not someone overreacting, she was scared of me. I’m supposed to be where she feels the safest and she’s scared of me.” As she said this a single tear dripped from her eye before she wiped it away aggressively.

“That might’ve been her reaction, yeah. But that doesn’t mean she’s scared of you Paige. It means it’s complicated and that you have to work through it with her.”

Paige didn’t answer.

“You think she’d still be calling you if she really believed you’d hurt her?” DiJonai asked gently. “You think she’d still pick up the phone for you when you text her?”

Paige sat on the mat with her head bowed. DiJonai let her sit there for a few minutes hoping that she’d will herself up. Talk herself through everything going on in her head.

But after a while DiJonai exhaled. She could see it in Paige’s eyes, in her posture. She was feeling more than just guilt, whatever it was sat bone-deep. Sitting in a place where words weren’t going to reach her.

“Alright,” DiJonai said. “If you’re convinced you can’t control yourself, let’s test it right now.”

Paige looked up at her in confusion, just in time to see DiJonai pull her own hoodie off and toss it aside.

“Get up.”

“What?”

DiJonai stepped closer. “Get. Up.”

Paige didn’t move so DiJonai yanked her up. “DiJ—”

Suddenly as soon as she was on her feet DiJonai pushed her shoulder hard enough to make her stumble back. “How far you think I can get before you snap?”

“Stop,” Paige warned.

But DiJonai didn’t. She got in Paige’s face, eyes to eye. “Do it. Show me how man you think you can get. Show me how you think you can just black out.”

“DiJonai—”

Another shove. This time it was harder on her chest.

“I’m standing right here. Disrespecting you. Pushing you. Provoking you.” She shoved again, more force behind it. “Lemme see you tweak like you think you will on the people you care about. Let out all that anger you been holding in.”

Paige’s jaw clenched as she took a tight breath. She wouldn’t look at DiJonai, she just stared past her.

“What you not mad yet?” DiJonai prodded. “You don’t wanna swing on me? You a pussy all of a sudden now?

Paige didn’t move.

DiJonai’s voice lowered. “What’s wrong? You scared imma flinch like your lil girlfriend?”

Paige’s eyes snapped to hers clearly pissed off but she still didn’t move.

DiJonai waited for a reaction. A twitch in her fingers. A slip, anything to provide Paige right.

But all Paige did was breathe. It was gritty and broken, but controlled.

A few seconds passed and then DiJonai leaned in, softer now. “You’re pissed,” DiJonai said. “You’re hurt. You’re drowning in your own head and you still didn’t touch me. You know how to control yourself Paige so please stop acting like you’re one step away from hurting the people you care about.”

Something cracked when DiJokai said that. Paige’s face crumpled before she could stop it and her shoulders folded in as the weight finally caught up to her. Her hands trembled as her breath hitched twice. Then she was crying, not just tearing up and letting one or two tears drip, but full on crying.

She stepped forward and DiJonai caught her easily. Paige leaned into her shoulder like her legs couldn’t hold her up anymore, letting out a broken, muffled sob that had been sitting in her chest for too long.

DiJonai held her there and just let her cry. “You’re ok I swear.” Paige only cried harder, her fingers gripping the back of DiJonai’s shirt .

They stood there for a while as Paige just let herself cry, sobs falling out of her here and there until she physically didn’t have anything left in her.

When Paige’s breathing started to get a little more even, DiJonai leaned back enough to look her in the eye. “Now pick up the gloves.”

Paige blinked a few times, her eyes still wet and puffy, after a second she slowly bent down to grab the gloves.

…

Back in LA, things weren’t falling apart like they were in Dallas but they weren’t quite holding together either.

Azzi hadn’t left the house in days. Cam, Rickea, and Rae had made it their personal goal to keep her distracted, throwing together movie nights, spontaneous baking sessions and a lot of tequila. They dragged out old board games, ordered her favorite takeout, and gave her space when she needed it. But no matter how many activities they lined up everyday, Azzi stayed emotionally elsewhere.

She was still eating, still showering, still going through the motions. But her heart wasn’t in it.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Paige looked at her right after. Like Azzi had confirmed her worst fear in a split second and in the rest of that second, all Azzi had wanted was to take it back. To reach for her. To tell her she didn’t mean to move, that it wasn’t about her. That she wasn’t scared of her, But but hadn’t been able to. And now Paige was in Dallas, and she was in LA, and there was nothing but space between them.

That night, after Rae had gone to bed, Cam and Rickea found Azzi curled up in the corner of the couch with a hood pulled over her head and her eyes distant. The TV was on but it was muted, the lights only flickering across Azzi’s face.

Rickea sat next to her and Cam brought over ice cream, putting it on the table.

“Why did I flinch?”

Cam looked at her softly. “You wanna talk about it?”

Azzi hesitated and they let the silence sit comfortably until she was ready. “I don’t know why I did it.”

Rickea sat next to her, listening.

“I grew up in a happy home,” Azzi said. “Two parents who love me. My dad doesn’t raise his voice, and my mom’s idea of discipline was a disappointed stare. So it wasn’t a reflex.”

Cam stayed quiet.

Azzi looked down at her hands as she talked herself through her tangled thoughts. “I wasn’t scared of her. I’m not scared of her.” She corrected herself. “But I think something about the way she looked, like she’d stopped feeling anything. It kind of hit me weird. Like all this energy was coming off of her, and it just—my body reacted before I could stop it.”

Rickea tilted her head. “You think it’s from something you saw before?”

Azzi shook her head. “I don’t think so. It wasn’t like a memory. It was more like...I don’t know. Shock. That night...I think I was scared of what she was feeling. Not what she’d do. I knew she wasn’t going to do anything to me.”

Azzi looked down, playing with her cuticles. “She looked at me like I confirmed every worst thing she’s ever believed about herself.”

“I should’ve said something,” Azzi added again. “But, I let her walk out thinking I didn’t feel safe with her.”

Cam’s voice was soft. “So tell her when you can. Make sure she hears that.”

Azzi’s eyes stung. “I just want her to come home.”

Rickea leaned her head against Azzi’s shoulder. “She will babe.”

It was 1:43 AM in Los Angeles. 3:43 in Dallas. That same night, technically, when DiJonai got Paige to pick up the gloves and Azzi worked through her feelings on the couch.

Paige was sitting on DiJonai’s balcony with her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she stared at the sky.

Back in LA, Azzi was curled on her patio couch in her backyard, with one of Paige’s hoodies keeping her warm. She hadn’t planned on texting her, but her fingers moved anyway.

A message lit up Paige’s phone.

Azzi [3:43 AM]: You up?

The response came to Azzi almost instantly.

Paige [1:43 AM]: yeah wassup mama ?

Seconds later, Paige’s phone lit up again with an incoming call and she answered on the first ring.

“Hey you,” Azzi said softly.

“Hey,” Paige echoed back, just as soft.

“What are you up to?”

Paige tilted her head back, eyes tracing the constellations. “Just...staring at the sky.”

Azzi let out a quiet laugh.

“What?” Paige asked, already smiling.

Azzi didn’t answer with words. Instead, she raised her phone and took a picture of the sky from her backyard, and sent it.

Paige pulled the phone away from her ear for a second to look. The moon was the same in both places.

She brought the phone back to her ear. “What you doing out there?”

“It’s cold in the house,” Azzi said.

“Turn the heat up.”

“I don’t want to.”

The words hung there.

They both knew what she meant. That it wasn’t really about the cold. That she wanted Paige’s body next to her to keep her warm. But neither of them said it.

After a few quiet seconds, Azzi asked, “Why are you up?”

Paige exhaled slowly. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

There was a pause, then a soft smile ghosted Paige’s lips. “You.”

“What about me?”

Another pause before Paige said quietly, “How much I miss you.”

Azzi closed her eyes, smiling a little. “I miss you too.”

A moment passed before Paige spoke again. “I went to the gym today.”

Azzi perked up. “That’s good. Did you hit?”

“Yeah.”

Azzi smiled with her eyes. “I’m proud of you.”

Paige’s voice caught a little. “Why?”

Azzi shifted in her seat, pulling the sleeves of the hoodie over her hands. “Because...you weren’t before.”

Paige stared out at the sky. “How’d you know?”

“Your voice.”

“What about it?”

“It’s lighter now. It always changes a little after you hit for real. When we were talking the other day it never changed. So I knew you weren’t letting anything out.”

Paige was quiet, her eyes stinging at Azzi noticing something as small as that. “Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked. “If you knew I was lying.”

“Because I would lie too, if I thought it might make you feel better.” She let that sit before asking, “That’s what you were doing, right? Trying to make me feel better?”

Paige blinked hard, nodding even though Azzi couldn’t see her. “Yeah.”

Azzi’s voice was quiet again when she spoke. “DiJonai reached out to me.”

Paige blinked, straightening up a little. “She did?”

“Yeah...asked for my number.”

Paige let out a soft laugh. “She’s annoying like that.”

Azzi smiled faintly at the familiar sound. “We talked…” she started, then trailed off. She didn’t need to finish. Paige already knew what they talked about.

“We can talk about it when I get back,” Paige said gently.

“In two weeks?” Azzi asked, the time sounding heavier when she said it out loud.

Paige nodded instinctively, then remembered Azzi couldn’t see her. “Yeah,” she said. “We can’t talk about this over the phone.”

Azzi understood so she didn’t press for anything more.

There was a lull in the conversation before Azzi shifted the energy like she always did to make Paige lighter. “You know your beautiful precious Audi is probably at the airport, getting dirty and racking up a pretty big bill.”

Paige let out a chuckle. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

Paige smiled. “Go get it for me then if you’re so worried.”

Azzi scoffed playfully. “What?”

“You know where my spare key is.”

“You want me to go get your what…two hundred and forty five thousand dollar car and just drive it?”

Paige grinned. “Mhmm.”

Azzi laughed, it was that easy, bright laugh that Paige had missed more than anything.

“Just don’t try to put any gas in it like you did the Escalade,” Paige added.

“Oh my God,” Azzi groaned, laughing louder. “How was I supposed to know it didn’t take regular?”

“You shouldn’t have been trying to pump gas in the first place princess,” Paige said softly.

Azzi smiled to herself for a second before she said. “I miss that.”

“Me too.”

Azzi stretched her legs across the outdoor couch cushion, pulling Paige’s hoodie tighter around her. “So…what else is going on in that head of yours?”

Paige exhaled slowly. “Everything. Nothing. Depends on the hour really.”

Azzi gave a soft laugh. “I see you’re still dramatic, huh?”

“Can’t help it.”

Azzi smiled. “Whatever.”

Paige let her words sit in the quiet for a beat before asking, “How’s Cam?”

“She’s good. She tried to get me to go on a hike in a cave earlier.”

Paige raised her eyebrow. “Did you?”

“Hell no.”

Paige laughed. “It’s the bugs isn’t it?”

“Yes you know I hate them and dirt…and being hot.”

They sat in silence for another stretch but this time it was the kind that felt familiar. Like Azzi just letting her girlfriend be her usual self for a second.

Eventually Azzi asked, “You nervous?”

Paige blinked. “About what?”

“The fight.”

Paige was quiet for a long moment. “No…” Then, “I don’t know. I think I’m thinking more about what I have going on than who I’m fighting.”

Azzi’s voice was soft. “Do you want me to come?”

Paige’s eyebrows knit slightly. “Do you want to come?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Paige looked up at the sky like it might give her the right words. “I just…didn’t know if you’d want to see it. After everything you know.”

Azzi’s heart twisted hearing how fragile Paige sounded. She didn’t sound like a fighter right now, more like a girl trying not to lose herself in her own thoughts.”

“Of course I’m gonna be there, pretty girl,” Azzi said gently.

Paige swallowed hard. “I’d understand if you didn’t want to though. It wouldn’t make me think less of you or anything like—”

“Baby,” Azzi interrupted softly.

Paige’s stopped rambling. “…Yeah?”

Azzi’s voice was barely a whisper. “Stop.”

Paige’s eyes fluttered closed. “Okay.”

They kept talking again about nothing, about everything. They didn’t solve anything, didn’t touch the deeper pain just yet, but the call was another thread pulling them back to each other. Azzi talked about Rae accidentally burning popcorn and setting off her smoke alarm. Paige told her about the old lady who almost knocked her over at Whole Foods trying to get the last jar of almond butter before giving it to her because her eyes reminded her of her granddaughter.

They laughed. They reminisced. They went quiet. They missed each other so loudly without saying it.

By the time a soft orange hue bled into the Dallas skyline, Azzi yawned, curled tighter in Paige’s hoodie.

Paige smiled faintly, watching the sun peek out over the horizon. “…I’ll talk to you later?”

Azzi whispered, “Of course.”

The call ended quietly and Paige just sat there for a second, holding the phone to her ear like she could still hear her.

Eventually, she walked inside.

DiJonai was already in the kitchen, pouring coffee in a tank top and sweats. “You were up all night,” she said, without looking up.

Paige blinked slowly, dragging her feet toward the hallway. “Yeah.”

DiJonai sipped. “You should get some sleep, Oscar the Grouch.”

Paige cracked a tired smile. “She told you she calls me that?”

DiJonai just hummed, not answering as she turned to grab some cream.

Paige smiled again, softer this time, before disappearing into the guest room to finally get some sleep.

The next two weeks felt like an eternity that stretched until it couldn’t anymore.

Every day, Paige trained. Her trainer had flown to Dallas and she stayed in the gym, trying to silence the chaos in her head by drowning it with sweat and repetition. It worked sort of. At least during the hours she was moving, she didn’t have to think.

When she wasn’t training, she forced herself to sleep. Heavy, dreamless sleep that made her forget everything for the rest of the day. Her eating had improved, barely, but it still wasn’t where it needed to be. She tried, but every time she ate she felt like she was going to throw up so meals were only half-finished, picked over and left cold.

She and Azzi talked a good amount of times. Nothing too deep. Just enough to keep the tether between them tight. They shared updates, teased each other lightly, and exchanged sleepy goodnights. It was effortful, but it mattered. It reminded them they were still trying.

…

The day before the fight, Paige flew to Vegas. The weigh-in was quick, her body lean under the lights. When the numbers flashed on the screen — 132 — the entire room looked surprised . Murmurs passed across the room. That was way too low for someone like her who was a natural 141.

Paige barely had time to step in her hotel room before her phone was ringing.

She answered on the second ring, barely getting out a “Wassup” before Azzi’s voice came through sharp.

“Paige 132? Are we serious?”

Paige winced. “Az, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Azzi snapped, not yelling at her but clearly upset. “You told me you were eating better.”

“I am baby,” Paige mumbled, rubbing a hand over her face. “Just…not enough, I guess.”

Azzi exhaled hard through the phone. “Paige. You don’t have anything to prove by—.”

“I’m not trying to.” Paige interrupted her gently.

“I need you to take better care of yourself. I know you’re not doing it on purpose but you’re hurting yourself, which hurts me baby.”

Paige didn’t say anything.

There was a knock on her hotel room door a second later. She opened it, still on the phone, to find DiJonai standing there with way too many food containers and colorful drinks balancing between both arms.

“I got hydration and hella carbs,” she said, stepping in the room without waiting for Paige to say anything.

Azzi’s voice came through the phone. “Is that DiJonai?”

“Yep,” Paige sighed.

“Good. Let her bully you into eating. I’m serious.”

DiJonai dropped everything onto the table like it was an intervention. “She told me the number,” she said flatly. “Now eat. I don’t care what it is, pick something and start chewing.”

Paige rolled her eyes but dropped on the couch and pulled a container toward her.

Azzi’s voice softened. “I’m not mad, okay?”

“I know.”

“I just want you to take care of yourself.”

“I know, Az.”

“Okay.”

They didn’t say bye. Paige just stayed on the phone while she started eating, Azzi’s quiet presence on the other end somehow making the food go down easier.

…

Everyone from L.A. had made the decision without saying anything out loud: none of them would go to the back to see Paige before the fight.

It wasn’t out of distance or anything like that. They just all understood what seeing Azzi before the fight might do to Paige. What it might undo. Azzi hadn’t argued about it even though the ache in her chest to be near Paige had grown to be almost unbearable. She just nodded when they suggested they just go to their seats early today, understanding more than anyone.

So, it was just DiJonai, Paige’s trainer, and her cutman in her concrete room behind the arena. The space was filled with the buzz from the fluorescent lights and anticipation that pressed through the walls and into Paige like a second skin. But instead of the calmness Paige usually carried before a fight; that eerie, focused stillness. Today, she was constantly moving.

She paced in tight circles with her jaw clenched. She cracked her neck every few minutes, rolled her shoulders and threw combinations at the air. Sometimes she’d slap the side of the travel bag hanging nearby, then step back like it offended her when it swung back with an equal opposite reaction.

DiJonai sat on one of the chairs with her legs crossed, watching her the entire time. “Paige sit still,” she said a few times. Each time with a little more insistence, a little more urgency.

But Paige didn’t listen.

Her trainer with his arms folded, finally stepped in front of her mid-pace, holding up a hand to make her stop. “You good?” he asked.

Paige nodded, but it was a twitch more than a nod. Her hands were in fists and her shoulders were tense.

He studied her for a second. The bags under her eyes weren’t from a bad night of sleep, they were from weeks of actual unrest. The sharpness in her face was no longer from her conditioning, it was depletion. The dullness that used to flicker behind her eyes before a fight now weighed heavier.

He exhaled and lowered his voice. “You got one round tonight.”

Paige blinked. “What?”

“You got one round,” he repeated. “To make something happen or I’m calling the fight.”

She stared at him, stunned at how serious he sounded.

“I’m not gonna watch you get hurt tonight because your head’s not in it. I’d pull you completely if they hadn’t already announced your card. You either go out there and handle it in one round, or I’m stopping it. You’re not walking in the cage just to bleed or whatever you got going on kid. You got me?”

Paige swallowed hard and her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest.

She heard him loud and clear.

DiJonai watched the interaction from the corner. She didn’t say anything but Paige saw the worry in her eyes when she looked at her.

She felt too much in that split second. Way more than what she was supposed to be feeling before a fight. Every ounce of pressure and pain and disgust she’d been feeling rising to the surface.

She took a deep breath and another to ground herself. Slow her racing heartbeat down as the noise of the arena filtered through the hallway walls, muffled but rising.

The lights above the cage were blinding, humming faintly in her ears as Paige stood in the winning corner, the one reserved for reigning champions. Her gloves were already tight on her hands but nothing felt real.

Across from her, in the challenging corner, her opponent bounced on the balls of her feet psyching herself up like they always did.

The announcer’s voice echoed somewhere beyond the fog in Paige’s head, drawing cheers from the crowd then the bell rang and she stepped forward.

And then everything just went blank.

It wasn’t like tunnel vision. It was more like drowning. Paige moved on instinct instead of reading her opponent. Her body was reacting without her brain processing what was happening. She didn’t remember measuring distance. Didn’t remember her footwork. Didn’t remember loading up or throwing anything. She doesn’t remember anything.

But her fists landed and they landed hard.

Each punch came suddenly but fast enough that her opponent couldn’t react: a left hook that snapped her head to the side and an immediate cross that sent blood flying, a knee to the ribs that folded the girl in half. Then the blur of movements that pinned her to the cage like a ragdoll. The crowd roared in admiration, the cage floor trembled, and Paige kept going.

She used her opponent like a motionless heavy bag and she didn’t even blink. Her corner wasn’t yelling instructions, they were stunned into silence, watching what they thought was about to be a disaster of a fight turn into something completely different.

Then an uppercut Paige threw cracked her opponent's jaw and it seemed like the sound echoed through the arena. Her eyes rolled back before her body hit the floor and she was out cold.

That’s when Paige heard the bell blaring in her ear effectively bringing her back to her body. Her chest was rising and falling fast and her lungs were begging for air she didn’t realize she needed.

The referee grabbed her wrist and lifted it into the air shouting something she couldn’t process before the crowd erupted.

But of course Paige didn’t smile. She blinked, dazed and confused, trying to place herself in the moment. Trying to figure out what just happened.

Her gaze slid to the other side of the cage where the girl was still down with medics crouched around her, speaking frantically, shining a light into her eyes.

Suddenly, Paige felt sick. Not dizzy. Not tired or exhausted. Just…sick to her stomach.

Because what the hell just happened?

She looked down at her gloves and her throat bobbed when she saw the blood smeared along the knuckles, dried and wet all at once. She checked her arms, her torso trying to figure out if it was hers, hoping somehow it was hers, then she squeezed her eyes shut because she didn’t want to know what she already knew.

Her heart pounded so loud in her throat it felt like it might tear through skin. Her mouth was desert dry, and her tongue was heavy, like she’d been chewing cotton. Each breath came tighter, hotter, like the air in the arena had turned into a sauna, a full hundred degrees and rising faster.

The cheers were still echoing as she pushed past everyone, barely aware of the cameras trying to catch her face, her reaction. She didn’t give them one, she never did but this time she felt a numb hollowness.

She walked mechanically through the back corridors, yanking her gloves off in disgust with shaky hands the second she cleared the lens of the last broadcast camera. She threw one that landed hard on the concrete floor behind her and the other one just slipped from her hand.

By the time she got to her assigned room, the adrenaline was still shooting through her nerves but she felt something else rising quicker.

She stumbled straight to the bathroom, her body dropping to her knees at the toilet before she could do it herself and she threw up.

Nothing of actual substance really came up because she hadn’t eaten much. But her body just needed to let something out before it consumed her from the inside. She stayed there until physically there was nothing for her body to let out, just white foam from the acid of her stomach burning her throat.

When it was over, she sat back on her heels, breathing hard. Her palms pressed against the cold tile until her head just fell back to rest on the wall. She stayed there for a few moments, unsure if she had the strength to get up, if she even wanted to get up but eventually she did.

She gripped the edge of the sink and pulled herself up, blinking against the harsh overhead light.

Looking in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Sweat clung to her eyebrow and jaw and her eyes were glassy and red. She looked tired. Like someone who’d somehow won something and lost something at the same time.

She rinsed her mouth, spat once, then again. She whipped a towel across her face and rolled her shoulders back to straighten her posture. She popped a piece of gum in her mouth then she stepped out of the bathroom into a room that was full of people.

Her trainer stood in the corner still talking quietly, almost excitedly with her cutman. DiJonai sat near the far wall with her arms crossed over her chest and she was watching Paige carefully the moment she stepped out of the bathroom. Rickea, Cam, and Rae were there too, but their faces blurred into the background.

Paige’s eyes moved across the room in a frantic motion, barely registering anyone until they landed on Azzi.

The moment she saw her, Paige’s chest lightened like she could finally breathe. Her feet moved on instinct, carrying her forward a few steps until she froze. Remembering the last time they’d been this close, how the night had ended and Paige still didn’t know what version of herself Azzi saw when she looked at her now.

But then Azzi opened her arms and Paige’s legs carried her the rest of the way unsteadily until she collapsed into her chest. She clung to her like her presence alone was the only thing keeping her here, her arms wrapped around her tightly and her face was buried deep in Azzi’s neck.

Azzi held her up whispering, "I'm so proud of you baby."

That broke whatever fragile hold Paige had on herself and she dry-heaved once into Azzi’s chest, the weight of her words hitting something too raw inside her. Her face stayed buried in her neck trying to muffle the quiet, shaky sounds, ashamed of how much she needed this. How much she needed her.

Everyone in the room exchanged silent glances and one by one, they slipped out the door quietly to give them space.

When it was just the two of them. Paige finally let herself feel and she felt like everything was crashing into her chest at once. Azzi held her close, with her arms steady around her frame. She whispered soft nothings in her ear: small comforts, high praises, reminders that she was here, that Paige wasn’t alone anymore. Every so often, she pressed a light kiss to her forehead gently, rubbing at Paige’s sweaty back but Paige couldn’t stay present.

She was blinking too fast, breathing too shallow. Her arms were slack on Azzi’s shoulders, and even though she hadn’t let go of Azzi, it felt like she was floating somewhere far away. Her eyes darted across the room, tightening her jaw every so often, teeth working against the gum she’d thrown in after vomiting, trying to mask the sour taste in her mouth.

Azzi noticed it all, noticed how Paige’s senses seemed to be in overdrive so she moved to ease them.

Carefully, she guided Paige to a seat, crouching slightly to ease her limp body into the chair without jarring her. Once Paige was settled safely she stood up, moving to turn off the lights plunging the room into darkness other than the light coming in from the bottom of the door. The room was already quiet, the echo of voices gone as soon as the others left. Azzi moved back over to where Paige was and gently reached for Paige’s face with one hand squeezing her cheeks a little. “Spit it out,” she said softly.

Azzi cupped her hand as Paige let the gum fall into it. Azzi threw it away before kneeling down in front of her.

“Give me your hand,” she whispered.

Paige lifted her hand and Azzi took her fingers and guided them gently to her chest, pressing her palm flat against the space over her heart. Paige’s hand was freezing cold and shaky but Azzi’s heartbeat thudded slow and steady beneath it.

Azzi placed her hand over Paige’s, holding it in place. “There,” she murmured. “Close your eyes and just be with me right here, beautiful.”

Paige’s head fell back against the wall as she fluttered her eyes closed. The rhythm she felt beneath her palm wasn’t her own, but she let it be her center. The constant beat of Azzi’s heart was the only thing that didn’t feel too loud, too much, too fast. They sat in silence like that for what felt like a long time. Then finally, Paige whispered, “I don’t know what happened.”

Azzi’s eyebrows pulled together. “What do you mean, baby?”

Paige swallowed hard, her hand still resting over Azzi’s heart. “The fight Az. I don’t remember any of it.”

Hearing that Azzi didn’t have any words to offer. Nothing she could say that would make that easier to swallow for Paige. So she didn’t try; she just moved forward, sitting up enough to pull Paige’s head to her chest, wrapping her arms around her again.

Paige let herself be held, tears slipping silently down her face. “Can we go back home?”

Azzi glanced down at her. “To LA? Tonight?”

Paige nodded, not lifting her head.

Azzi nodded too, brushing her fingers through Paige’s damp hair. “I’ll make it happen, baby.”