#the convo could have happened in his head | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iamactuallysocute · 16 days ago

Note

Hi! I’m a super fan of your Saja boys work, I love how you curated their personalities! I had a Q about Baby. Since he’s so reserved in a relationship I was wondering what it would look like if the Reader was just… done? Like treated it like the situationship he’s been acting like their relationship is. Sees other people. Him cold shouldering you wouldn’t make you crawl back this time. You could be done with him but he isn’t done with you. Thoughts?

BABY SAJA – LOYALTY IS WASTED ON MEN LIKE YOU!

Emotionally unavailable? Say less, you’re in! Dating Baby was never going to be easy. He’s rude, way too pretty, and emotionally repressed. But you were ready to give him everything. Turns out, the only thing that made him realize your worth was watching other men fight for it. Alternate ending where you dump his ass here

cw: implied fem reader, toxic relationship dynamics, (mild) gaslighting, neglect, unresolved codependency(love me but also leave me but also love me), reader being sad, one sided love, sexual content(not outright smut, just mentions), jealousy, cursing, chronic “I can fix him” syndrome, this fic may cause you to reflect on your own red flag history, not sure if it’s in character

You try. You really fucking try. You send him sweet texts, patch up his bloodied jackets after the girls almost skin him alive again, cook him food he doesn’t even eat, and still get less affection than that lollipop in his mouth.

He’s not cruel, not really. He’s just… a dick. A dick who treats your relationship like it’s a monthly subscription he forgot to cancel. He doesn’t hold your hand. He doesn’t call you unless he needs something. He ghosts you mid-convo. He doesn’t cheat on you, because that would require effort. He’s not putting energy into anything, least of all love.

He likes you. Wouldn’t date you otherwise. Yeah, no, he does. The bastard’s just… lazy.

Meanwhile, you? You’re a fucking angel. Sweetheart. You bring Baby food, you rub his shoulders, you kiss him goodnight even when he’s pretending to be asleep so he doesn’t have to talk. You try. You try so hard. You give him the kind of soft love songs get written about.

And he gives you… a pat on the head and a muttered “mm.”

You don’t even know how you ended up dating this man. Like, what was the draw? The face? The voice? Sure, he’s pretty, but Jesus, he’s horrible.

Sex? LMAO. When it happens, it’s good, but the foreplay? The romance? The bare minimum acknowledgment that you exist? Missing in action.

And it’s not like you’re asking for the moon. You’re just asking for him to act like your boyfriend, not your emotionally distant roommate who sometimes humps you and then rolls over. You’re a fucking sweetheart. You bake, you compliment, you rub his temples.

Now tell me, why do the other Saja Boys treat you better than your own boyfriend? They’re tripping over themselves to treat you like royalty.

Romance? Brutal. You walk into the room and he’s already halfway undressed, asking what color panties you’re wearing and if he can purr into your thigh. Every conversation turns into some Rated-R bullshit. You could be talking about taxes and he’d be like, “I’d let you audit this dick.”

Abby calls you “babe” even though you’re dating Baby, carries your stuff, flexes in your direction constantly. One time he held your hand and whispered “I’d never ghost you.” It was honestly a little hot. He says dumb stuff like, “You deserve a hundred Baby’s.” (Which, thanks Abby, but one is already too much.)

Jinu? Bless him. Actual angel behavior. He’s an asshole, but he’s nice to you. He’s the only one who doesn’t make it weird. And he never flirts. Doesn’t need to. He has respect, and that? That’s the real panty-dropper.

Mystery doesn’t talk to you so much as sniff and glare protectively. You saw him literally lunge at Abby once for making a yo mama joke in your presence. No one even understood the joke. It didn’t make sense. But Mystery took that shit personally.

The other boys see it. They know you’re way too good for him. That’s why they are all secretly hoping you’ll finally snap, finally say, “Screw this” and let someone else actually treat you like the heaven-sent babe you are.

And yet, you’re still dating Baby.

Still hoping he’ll wake up one day and realize you’ve been there all along.

They’re demons, yeah. They’re evil, yeah. But even evil people can learn to say “thank you” or “you mean a lot to me.” Baby just walks around like he’s doing you a favor by not breaking up with you.

Why are you still here?

Because love makes you stupid. And apparently, so do baby faces.

Let’s start with the time you planned a whole date for him.

You did everything right. You did your makeup soft and glowing, your hair was perfect, you were genuinely excited.

You get there. He shows up forty-five minutes late.

No text. No “running late.” Just shows up like he didn’t leave you sitting there wondering if you’d been stood up. When he finally arrives, it’s with bedhead and an attitude like you’re the one inconveniencing him. Doesn’t even say you look good. Not even a “hi.” You get a half-assed peck on the lips, and then he slumps into the chair like a corpse and scrolls his phone.

You tried to make conversation. “How was your day?” “I thought you’d like the view.” “Want to try this drink?”

All you got back were shrugs. A couple grunts. A “this is too bright.”

And then he disappeared to the bathroom for 20 minutes. You almost cried.

And the kicker? That night ended in sex. Not even romantic sex. Not the kind of slow, passionate “I missed you” sex you deserved. Just… mechanical. He made you cum, sure. He always does. But not once did he look you in the eye while doing it. He didn’t hold you after. Just wiped himself off, rolled over, and went back to checking his texts like your body wasn’t still trembling beside him.

Then there’s the calls. He never calls just to talk. Never sends memes. Never asks how your day was.

But he’ll call you at 1:43am, And like a fool, you go. You show up. You help him. You heal the gashes on his back from fights. You cook him soup at 2am. You bring him fresh clothes. And he’ll thank you with a yawn and a hand on your thigh.

You’ve started wondering if he might actually be a psychopath.

No, seriously. Not the cute “bad boy with trauma” kind. Like, genuinely broken somewhere inside. The guy doesn’t seem to feel things the way you do. You’ll be crying, clearly upset, trying to talk to him about how distant he’s been, and he’ll just… stare. Not a single emotion on his face. Sometimes you think he might be listening. Sometimes he cuts you off mid-sentence and says something like: “You’re being dramatic.” “You always want more.”

And you just stand there, blinking, with your throat closing up and your heart doing that twisting thing like it’s trying to collapse into itself.

He makes you feel crazy for wanting basic human decency.

Why do you stay with someone who doesn’t see you? Why do you keep hoping that one day he’ll kiss your forehead and mean it? Why do you convince yourself that the fleeting glimpses of tenderness are real and not just glitches in the system?

Because you think maybe, just maybe, you can fix him. (And you won’t admit that maybe you’re trying to prove you’re worthy of being loved by someone who doesn’t love easy.)

Still. You look stunning. Like, jaw-dropping, double-take, world-stopping pretty. You walked out that door looking like heaven, ironic, since you’re dating a demon. New dress, soft gloss, that look in your eye that says “I want to be seen. I want to be loved.”

And what does Baby do?

He gives you a five-second glance, mumbles, “You look… fine.” leans in to press a kiss to your lips, and then spends the entire day not speaking to you unless he’s asking where the fuck his lighter is.

You could’ve worn a trash bag and he wouldn’t have treated you any different.

And don’t even get started on the sex.

When it happens, it’s insane. Mind-numbing. He knows exactly what to do with his hands, with his mouth, with his tongue, and yes, that thing he does when he pins your wrists and growls into your neck? A++++. But after?

He rolls off of you. Pulls his pants up, gives your shoulder a tap like “good game”, and either vanishes into thin air or falls asleep instantly.

You lie there, raw, your soul practically floating out of your body, and he doesn’t even give you a cuddle. No forehead kiss. No aftercare. Not even water. You could die and he wouldn’t notice for six hours.

Okay, what’s happening now is that your thighs are still aching. You’re sitting on your couch now. Legs pulled up, arms hugging your knees, watching him dress up. Same shirt he wore last night, now wrinkled at the collar. You’d kissed his neck there. Left a mark. He hasn’t looked at it.

You’re still tasting him in your mouth. Still warm from the morning fuck that started with your whimper and ended with him pulling out, wiping off with a tissue, and heading for the bathroom. No kiss. No cuddle. No “good morning, babe.”

You push up off the couch and make your way over. Soft steps. Bare feet. One of his old shirts hanging off your shoulders, oversized and swallowing you whole. He left it here weeks ago. You wear it more than you should. Hope he notices every time. He never does.

You swallow. Smile. Be sweet. Be you. “You sleep okay?” you ask, voice gentle.

He shrugs. “Didn’t really sleep.”

You nod. Of course he didn’t. He never does. 300 years of insomnia will do that to a demon. You should know by now. You ask anyway.

Your hand grazes his side. Warm palm against the thin fabric of his shirt. He feels solid under your touch, real in a way you wish he’d act.

“You want coffee before you go?” you try again. Light, chipper. Fake.

You could hand him your heart on a plate and he’d just pick out the parts he needs.

Baby finally looks at you, kind of. Eyes half-lidded, still tired, like he’d rather be anywhere else. There’s nothing in his face. No warmth. No guilt.

“No.” he says. “Got stuff to do.”

You don’t ask what. You never do. You stopped asking a long time ago.

He lets out a breath, not a laugh. Just a bored exhale. Doesn’t even smile back. Doesn’t tease. Doesn’t grab your waist and pull you in, the way he used to on rare days when you swore he felt something.

“I’ll text you.” he says.

He won’t.

He reaches for the door. Doesn’t kiss you goodbye. Doesn’t look back.

Leaves it open behind him.

You stand there. In the quiet. One foot still slightly lifted, like your body refuses to believe he actually left without touching you. Without seeing you.

You close the door slowly. Lock it. You step away. Back to the couch. Your body’s still humming from him, skin warm where his hands used to be. And it doesn’t even feel good. Not now.

The one person you gave your heart to? He fucked you, zipped up his pants, and left you in your own bed like a stranger.

Again.

Your phone buzzes. You grab it too fast. Hope flaring like a goddamn idiot.

It’s not him.

Of course it’s not him.

You got up. Showered. Put effort into your hair. Picked the cute outfit. Did your makeup a little soft, a little glowy, just in case he looked at you today. Big, dumb hope, chewing through your insides like it always does.

You even made food for the boys. All of them. Their favorites. You remembered every single detail.

You come in smiling, heart on your sleeve as always. The boys are mid-sweat, halfway through some routine that looks demonic in all the literal and metaphorical ways. Jinu’s barking choreography corrections like a general in tight jeans. Romance is shirtless for absolutely no reason. Mystery’s growling in a corner because someone stepped too close to him. Abby’s stretching, glistening, being a six-foot wall of muscle.

And Baby’s in the back. Ignoring you. Not a glance. Not a smile. Not even a “hey.”

You hold up the bag of food like a little offering to the gods. “I brought lunch!”

They all cheer. Abby fist-pumps. Romance calls you some corny nickname. Jinu nods in appreciation. Mystery smiles at you.

Baby?

Nothing.

He’s already walking off with Jinu toward the speakers. You hear him ask something. His voice is calm, flat. Doesn’t even wobble when he walks right past you.

You shouldn’t be surprised anymore. But you are. You always are. Hope is a stubborn little bitch and you’ve got so much of it.

You set everything down carefully. Label each container. Make sure everyone’s is where it should be. You sit on the little couch tucked in the corner, legs crossed, hands in your lap. All dressed up with no one noticing.

Within ten minutes, they’re all gone. Jinu dragging the others into another room. Baby goes without a word. Not even a “thanks.” Not even a look.

So now it’s just you. Alone again. Like you always are when Baby’s in the room.

You look down at your hands. At your nails you painted this morning, soft pink, little sparkles. You’d hoped he’d see them when your fingers touched his face. When you handed him his drink. When you waved.

But now? You feel small. Embarrassingly small.

You blink hard. No crying. Not here. Not in the same room where you brought him lunch, hoping he’d say something sweet like “You spoil me” or “Thanks, angel.” Something. Anything.

Thump.

A weight drops onto the couch next to you. You blink, startled, then glance over.

It’s Abby. Big, beautiful, sweaty Abby. Drenched in his post-practice glow, shirt clinging to him, biceps looking insane.

“This is fuckin’ delicious, by the way.” he says, mouth full. “You made this?”

Your entire face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, I—I tried this new chili paste thing with the beef? And I wasn’t sure if it’d be too spicy but I remembered you said last time you liked heat so—” You’re already babbling.

Abby chuckles, still chewing. He bumps your knee with his. “Well, it’s fire. You look good today too, by the way. You did something to your face, right? Like… sparkly?”

You freeze.

“Oh my god! You noticed!” You giggle—giggle—and touch your cheek, glowing now. “It’s highlighter! I tried this new gold shimmer thing with a bit of rose undertone. I wanted to look more glowy than usual, like, radiant but not oily, you know?”

Abby is nodding like you just explained astrophysics.

“Totally.” He grins wider. He has no idea what you just said but he enjoys your company. “Damn, Baby’s dumb as fuck.”

You laugh again, brighter this time. You start talking. Like, really talking. Finally. About your outfit. How you wore a matching bra and panty set just in case today went well. About how you tried a new serum for your undereyes last night and you think it’s actually working. About the new earrings. You tell him about how you painted your nails.

Abby listens. Actually listens. Big head tilted slightly, big eyes on you like you’re the only person in the room.

“You smell nice, too.” he says.

“It’s vanilla sugar whipped body butter! I mixed it with this sandalwood perfume for, like, a soft but spicy vibe!” You touch your neck. “I thought he’d notice. You know. If he got close enough…”

“He didn’t deserve that effort.” he says, voice quieter now.

You sit up straighter. Heart fluttering like you’re seventeen. “Oh—thank you, I guess.” you practically beam.

He’s leaning back, one arm slung across the couch behind you, watching you. Like he could listen to you talk all day. Like you’re not background noise. Like you’re not just some sad girl orbiting around a boyfriend who doesn’t give a single shit.

“I used this serum that smells like peaches—so good. Did a little under-eye thing, you know the patches? Also, I tried heatless curls again—”

“They’re working.” Abby says with a nod. “Big fan.”

“Right?! I almost gave up on them but I wrapped them differently this time—wait, do you want me to show you?”

And he said yes. Of course he did. Sat there nodding along as you pulled out your phone and showed him your entire haircare routine like he was your best friend, not a ripped, sweaty demon with chopsticks halfway to his mouth.

He didn’t rush you. Didn’t nod absently. He listened.

Something clicked in you that day.

It wasn’t even anything big. No screaming. No tears. No climax. It was just a bite of rice and a simple, sincere “You look good” from someone who actually meant it.

Abby didn’t say it to get into your pants. (Okay. Maybe a little.) But he said it because he liked it, that simple. He saw the gloss on your lips. He tasted the food you made and said thank you. He laughed at your stupid stories and didn’t check his phone once. You talked to him like a person—and he talked back.

It was so simple. So easy. So fucking bare minimum.

It was Abby, actually.

That moment?

That sparkle he saw in you?

You remembered her. The girl you were before Baby started stomping on her heart.

You sat in your bathroom that night, still wearing his shirt, hair tied up, lips soft and raw from being kissed by someone who didn’t mean it. You looked in the mirror and thought:

“What the fuck am I doing?”

You’d been doing everything for Baby. For months. Cooking for him. Dressing up. Bending over backwards just for a scrap of warmth. And what did he give you in return? The bare minimum of dick and a complete lack of eye contact.

You gave him love. Attention. Loyalty. He gave you silence, and a few orgasms.

Now you’re done.

Well, no. Not done.

You’re gonna do it his way now.

You’re not breaking up with him. That’s not how Baby plays this game, so why should you?

You’re going to treat him the way he’s been treating you.

First, no more good morning texts. No more “thinking of you :)” messages. No more “come over and I’ll make you dinner” sweetness.

You let him text you first. When he doesn’t, you go about your day. When he does text, you leave him on read for a bit. Not petty. Just… matching energy.

You mirror him so perfectly it’s poetic.

Then, he comes over one night, no warnin. You open the door. You look stunning. Not for him. Just… because. Your shorts are short. Your skin smells like warm vanilla.

Baby says, “Hey.”

You say, “Sup.” and walk back to the couch.

He follows you, sits down next to you, waits for you to curl into him like you always do.

You don’t.

You sit with your legs crossed, phone in hand, scrolling through photos from earlier. You laugh at something.

Baby asks, “What’s funny?”

You shrug. “Just something Abby said.” You don’t elaborate. You don’t look at him. You don’t fucking fawn.

When Baby finally touches you, it’s out of habit. He moves to pull you in by the thigh, slow, casual, the way he always does when he wants to use your body to feel alive.

But your body’s no longer his playground.

You place your hand on his wrist gently, without anger, and say: “I’m not really in the mood tonight.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever said that to him.

And it’s not even a lie. Because suddenly? The idea of being touched by someone who doesn’t see you makes your skin itch.

He blinks. Like he’s never heard the word no come out of your mouth before.

You don’t give him an explanation. You just stretch, yawn a little, and say, “Wanna watch something?” like the idea of intimacy was never even part of the evening.

You’re finally doing to him what he’s been doing to you this whole damn time.

Nothing.

You show up less.

You speak less.

You still look beautiful—maybe more than ever—but now you do it for yourself. And the boys? They notice.

Romance starts walking in shirtless more often, whispering things in your ear, trying.

Mystery still growls, but he really is more careful with you than with the other boys.

Jinu? Offers to walk you home one night, just to make sure you’re okay.

Abby is an angel. I mean, besides the fact that he eats souls and kills people.

Right now, all you can hear is the low clink of chopsticks in a bowl and the sound of your soft laugh floating through the kitchen, that lovely, glowing kind of laugh that belongs to someone who’s being treated right by someone for once.

And of course, that someone ain’t Baby.

You’re leaned up against the counter, wearing an apron over your sweats. Your sleeves are rolled up, your lip gloss is on point, and you’re holding a spatula.

Jinu? He’s posted up at the counter. Elbows on the marble. Sleeves of his black shirt rolled just enough to show forearms. He’s already half-finished the food you made him—second serving, by the way—and he watches you talk about how you made the sauce from scratch.

You’re glowing. Again.

And Jinu sees it. Loves it.

“Gotta say,” he drawls, licking his chopsticks before setting them down with a clink. “if you keep feeding me like this, Baby’s gonna lose you real fuckin’ quick.”

You giggle. “Don’t start.”

“I’m serious.” he says, shrugging one shoulder like it’s just a fact of life. “Can’t remember the last time I saw you smile like that. Hell, I’m thinking about proposing.”

Oh, Jinu is a fucking asshole.

You swat him with the dishtowel, cheeks warm and heart fluttering.

And that’s when the door opens. You just keep stirring your sauce, biting back a grin. Because you know who that is.

Baby steps in.

He stops.

The scene in front of him? It’s not anything explicit… but it’s worse. You—shining, smiling, eyes crinkled with joy—laughing at Jinu, apron tied around your waist.

Jinu doesn’t even bother hiding the smug face. Just leans back, long and casual in your stool, licking his teeth as he catches Baby’s eyes.

“Didn’t think you were coming.” Jinu says lazily.

Didn’t think.

As in: doesn’t expect him to be here.

As in: you didn’t say shit about him coming.

As in: why the fuck would he be here now, anyway?

“Oh. Hey.” you say. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

Which is a fucking lie. You always hear him. You’ve got Baby-radar like a government op. But you say it like he’s just some dude you vaguely know from work.

He walks in. Slowly. Warily. Like the air’s changed and he doesn’t know how to breathe it.

“What’s this?” he mutters, eyes fixed on Jinu.

You blink. “Dinner.”

“Didn’t know we were feeding other people now.”

Jinu smirks. “Funny. I didn’t know you gave a shit.”

BOOM.

“He walked me home.” you say softly. “We got to talking. I offered dinner.”

Simple. Sweet. Reasonable. But even you can’t deny the underlying message: He was here. You weren’t. He showed up. You didn’t.

You finally turn back to the stove, as if his presence isn’t worth more than a glance. “There’s food if you want.”

He doesn’t move.

Jinu watches him. Slowly wipes his mouth with a napkin. Stands up. Doesn’t break eye contact.

“Thanks for the meal.” he says, only to you, voice low and smooth. “Bye, Y/N.” And he walks out.

You’re still by the stove, gently stirring the pot even though the heat’s been off for a minute now. You’re not cooking anymore. You’re just… doing something with your hands.

“So.” He says it flat. Lazy. No inflection.

You hum, noncommittal. “Hm?”

“You fucking Jinu now or what?”

You blink. You turn around slowly, calmly, ladle still in your hand, and give him the kind of look that says excuse me, motherfucker? without a single word.

He just leans back against the counter, arms crossed, jaw tight. He looks bored. Like this whole conversation is beneath him. Like he isn’t internally spiraling at the idea of Jinu being inside you.

“You’ve got a problem.” you say, finally, voice cool.

He shrugs. “Just seems convenient. He’s walking you home, sitting in your kitchen, eating your food. Laughing like you two are fuckin’ married or something.”

You cross your arms, ladle still dangling in your hand like a weapon you could use. “Are you actually jealous right now?”

He scoffs. “Jealous?” Then he laughs, but it’s not a real laugh. It’s the kind you throw out when your throat’s closing up and your pride’s bleeding out. “I don’t give a fuck who you hang out with.” he says. “You do whatever you want.”

You tilt your head, your voice still sweet. Too sweet. “Oh, good. ’Cause I do.”

He unfolds his arms, takes a slow step toward you, his babyface looking anything but innocent right now. “You two looked real cozy.” he says, low. “Real close.”

You stare up at him. Calm. Patient. “Not as close as you and your phone every time you’re at my place. Not as close as you and your shitty attitude. Or your silence. Or your fucking selective affection.”

He stares at you. Quiet. Like he’s trying to do math in his head, but the numbers don’t add up because the answer is you don’t belong to him anymore.

But the problem is?

You do.

Not because he deserves you.

Not because he’s earned it.

But because he’s Baby, and he never loses.

“We talked. I cooked. He ate. He left. That’s it, Baby.”

Baby scoffs under his breath. “Mm. Cute.”

You used to look at him like he was your whole world. Now you look at him like he’s in the way.

You sigh, setting your plate down. “Look, if you’re trying to pick a fight because you saw me smile at someone else, don’t bother. You never cared when I cried over you.”

“Whatever.” he mutters, turning away. “Do what you want.”

He lingers at the door longer than usual. Waiting. Expecting. But you just go back to your food. Back to your peace. Back to being a version of yourself that doesn’t revolve around his silence.

He leaves. Quiet. Not slamming the door. Just… gone.

It goes on like that.

Weeks.

You don’t call. You don’t text. You don’t ask where he is or when he’s coming over. You don’t even ask him to come to bed when he does show up, which, let’s be honest, is rare now.

You’re sweet to him. That’s the worst part.

You don’t argue. You don’t snap. You don’t even bring up what he said about Jinu, or the dozens of other things he’s said and done to make you feel like you weren’t enough.

He tells himself he doesn’t care. Every day. Every time you walk past him with that polite little smile. Every time you hug Jinu goodbye a little longer than you should. Every time Romance slings his arm around your waist and calls you “baby girl” and you laugh. Every time Abby gives you his jacket. Every time Mystery offers you the last slice of pizza and hisses at anyone who tries to take it from you.

You’re still everyone’s favorite.

Still their angel.

But you’re not his anymore. Not in the way you used to be. Not in the way that meant something.

And the stupidest part?

He still won’t let go.

He could’ve ended it by now. Could’ve sat you down and been a man and said, “This isn’t working,” or “Let’s take a break,” or something like a grown-up.

But he didn’t.

Because he doesn’t want to.

He keeps waiting for the moment you’ll crack. That you’ll break and come crawling back, like always. But you don’t. You don’t beg. You don’t chase. You just let him be. And you let yourself be. Happy, even.

Right now, Romance is walking you home.

No earbuds in. No phone in hand. No half-assed, distracted glances

No—this man is locked in.

He opens doors. Keeps his hand hovering at the small of your back. Makes sure you walk on the inside of the sidewalk. His cologne smells like amber and sex appeal and trouble.

You’re bundled up in your cute jacket, hands stuffed into your pockets, trying to ignore the way he keeps looking at you like you’re dessert.

He’s walking you home like a proper man, one hand casually tucked into his jacket pocket, the other resting at your lower back, protective. You feel safe. You feel seen. Which is fucked up because Romance is literally the thirstiest demon you’ve ever met and you’re pretty sure he tried to convince you to join him in a shower multiple times.

But tonight?

He’s actually being… good.

Almost.

“I could do it, you know.” he says suddenly, tilting his head to look at you. His eyes glint like sex and sincerity, a dangerous combo. “Treat you better. Make you laugh.”

“Romance—”

“Nah, nah, hear me out.” he grins, stepping in front of you, walking backwards now.(AN: guys take a moment to imagine this I think it’s so sweet) “I’ve watched that idiot make you cry for months. He gets you warm, pulls you in, then freezes the second you want something real. That shit ain’t love, baby girl.”

You exhale a soft laugh, biting your lip. “You done?”

“Almost.” He stops right at the foot of your apartment steps, standing too close. “You’re gold.” he says, voice lower now, serious. “If he doesn’t want to melt for you, let somebody else do it.”

You meet his eyes, those dark, dangerous eyes that promise so much pleasure it borders on pain. You know he means it.

He wants to steal you. He means it.

He wants that cookie.

Bad.

Now your back’s to the door, lips shiny under the streetlight. You’re looking up at him, eyelashes fluttering, and he thinks—fuck it, maybe tonight.

He’s close enough to touch.

And you know he would.

If you leaned in even slightly, Romance would kiss you.

“I’m not a cheater.” you say quietly, smile fading just a bit.

Romance blinks. Looks away, running a hand through his hair. “Then break up with—“ he sighs. “Yeah. I know.”

“I appreciate you walking me home.” you say, keys jangling in your hand. “Really. You’re… good to me.”

Romance raises a brow. “I could be better. You know that, right?”

You nod. “I do.”

Silence.

Romance wasn’t supposed to fall for you.

You were Baby’s. Off limits. That was the deal.

Not that Baby’s ever followed a rule in his immortal, lazy-ass life, but still, there’s a line between stealing your bandmate’s fries and stealing his girl.

Except… you’re not really his anymore, are you?

Not when you’re out here glowing under streetlights, arms wrapped around yourself, laughing at something he said.

You’re not just hot. You’re gold. You’ve got this energy, like you were made to be adored, like kindness made flesh. You ask how his day was and actually care about the answer. You bring snacks for everyone, even when they forget you exist. You patch bruises. Remember birthdays. Listen. Smile at him like you’re glad he’s there.

You’re… the dream girl.

You’re beautiful. Like, stupidly beautiful. And not just in a “hot girl on a magazine” kind of way—no, you’re warm. You’re sweet in a way that makes his chest ache. You tell Mystery his growling is cute. You made Abby a protein-packed lunch after you saw him skip one. You tell Jinu to take breaks when he’s overworking.

You’re… everything.

And Baby has you? Baby, who acts like you’re a houseplant he forgot to water?

He doesn’t get it.

He doesn’t understand how you stay kind after being treated like an afterthought. Doesn’t understand how your lips still curl into that soft little smile even after getting ghosted, dismissed, cold-shouldered, fucked and forgotten.

He chews on his mouth. “For what it’s worth… I hope he pulls his head out of his ass.”

You smile softly. “Me too.”

You press a soft kiss to his cheek. The kind that says “thank you”—not “take me inside.”

And then you’re gone. Door open. Closed. Locked.

Romance stands there. For a long time. Fists in his pockets. Jaw clenched. Whispers under his breath, “Fucking Baby.”

But he gets it.

Hell, if you were his? He wouldn’t let you go, either.

Inside, the door shuts behind you. Soft click.

“Hi.”

You jump, just a little, and turn.

Baby is sitting on your couch. Hoodie up. Legs spread.

“Let yourself in again?” you ask, voice soft but not sweet.

He shrugs. Doesn’t even look at you at first. His eyes are fixed on some random spot on the floor. But he’s chewing his bottom lip, thinking. That’s rare for Baby. Usually he acts, fucks, ghosts.

“You have a good time?” he asks after a long pause.

You stare at him. “Excuse me?”

“Walked you home.” Baby says, like it’s a crime.

“He offered.” you reply simply. “You weren’t around.”

He scoffs. “Right. Must’ve been a real good walk.”

You toss your keys in the bowl, not even looking at him. “It was. Thanks for asking.”

“I—” he starts, but then his voice falters. “You’re acting different.”

You blink. “I wonder why.”

Baby’s quiet now. You can feel his eyes tracking you as you toe your shoes off and head into the kitchen, opening the fridge, grabbing water.

“…You like him?”

You pause with the bottle at your lips. “I like that he talks to me.”

Baby snorts. Leans back on the couch, stretching his arms out like he’s trying to be casual but his whole body’s coiled tight. “He just wants to fuck you.”

“Maybe.” You shrug. Take a sip. “At least he wants something.”

Silence.

A long one.

You finally turn and look at him.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Then finally he speaks.

“…Do you wanna break up?”

Your stomach dips. You blink. “Do you?”

“No.”

You stare at him, stunned for a second.

He rubs a hand over his mouth. “I don’t want to break up.”

“Then what do you want?”

He looks at you. Like your glow is starting to burn his retinas because he knows it’s not because of him anymore.

“I don’t like it.” he says, low. “Him walking you home.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You weren’t.”

Silence. You’re surprised he’s not taking your soul yet.

“I’m going to bed.” you say gently.

He doesn’t follow.

Doesn’t ask you to stay.

Doesn’t apologize.

Doesn’t fight.

So you walk away.

He left later.

And okay, so, Baby caught on. He caught on to how the guys look at you when you walk into a room.

How Abby practically breaks his neck turning around when you laugh.

How Mystery’s little demon growls actually stop when you pet his head like a feral cat and call him “baby boy.”

How Jinu fucking lingers after he drops you off, arms crossed, smug smirk on his stupid perfect face like he’s just daring Baby to make a move.

And Romance? God. He makes no effort to hide the way he drools over you.

And for a while, Baby pretended he didn’t notice.

Because Baby’s the type who doesn’t give a fuck. The type who could watch the world burn with a cigarette in his mouth and a bored expression on his face. Show an attitude to Gwi-Ma, though he knows it entertains the big fire overlord whatever the fuck that thing is.

And it hit him. Finally. It hit him that maybe the guys didn’t love you just to get back at him. Maybe they weren’t doing it to annoy him, or stir shit, or play their usual games.

Maybe they loved you because you were just… good. Like they struck gold with you.

And he’s been treating you like you’re disposable.

And now you’re slipping through his fingers.

So here he is.

Standing outside your door at 11:47 PM. Hoodie on. Hands clenched. Eyes bloodshot. Breathing weird. With a bouquet of half-wilted, obviously-last-minute flowers clenched in his fist. Not even wrapped in paper. Just bundled together in his hand like he ripped them out of a gas station bucket and sprinted over.

You open the door in a tank top and shorts, towel still on your head. You weren’t expecting company. You sure as hell weren’t expecting him.

He just shoves the bouquet into your chest. “Here.”

Your brows shoot up. “What…?”

“They’re flowers.”

You stare down at the handful of pretty flowers. “…Thanks?”

He clears his throat. Looks anywhere but at you. “They’re real. I think.”

You blink at him. Genuinely speechless. You sigh. Step back. “You wanna come in?”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

Which is Baby code for yes, please, please say yes, please I can’t stop thinking about you, please I fucking miss you and I don’t know how to say it because I’m a 300-year-old asshole in skinny jeans who still can’t process human emotion like a real adult.

He walks in like he’s waiting for you to slam the door behind him and tell him to go fuck himself.

You don’t.

You close the door quietly. Take the flowers to the kitchen, grab an old mug (because of course you don’t have a vase, you’re not that domestic), and fill it with water. You hear him sit down on the couch.

“So…” you say finally. “what’s going on?”

He scratches the back of his neck. Looks at the floor. “Nothing.”

You raise a brow. “Nothing made you bring me flowers?”

He shrugs again, classic Baby-style. “Just thought of you.”

“That’s new.”

“…Yeah.”

A beat of silence.

He leans forward, elbows on knees, voice low. “You always look good. Y’know that?”

You blink. “What?”

“You always look good. Even now. With that stupid towel on your head.”

You squint suspiciously. “Are you having a stroke?”

He lets out a breathy, almost-laugh. “Shut up.”

…wow.

“Come to bed if you want.” you say, walking toward your room. “But I’m not gonna beg.”

You don’t even look back. You just leave him there, in your living room, surrounded by the silence he’s created.

In your room, you’re halfway out of your shorts.

He followed. Of course he did. You don’t say anything. You don’t have to. Because if he wants to stare? Let him. He’s the one that gave this up in the first place.

He stands there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows. Watching you. Silently.

Funny, how now that you don’t beg, he’s starving.

He finally moves, steps off the wall and walks toward you. Still that classic Baby attitude, acting like he doesn’t care even though his jaw clenches tighter every time you arch your back to pull something on.

And then his hand grazes your waist. Barely there. Fingertips brushing skin.

You slap it away. Instantly. Not hard, just enough to say “try again and I’ll bite.”

He raises both hands in surrender, head tilting like, “oh? That’s how it is now?”

And fuck, it’s attractive. The way he lets his tongue press into his cheek, cocky, bratty.

You pull your shirt over your head, slow, knowing full well he’s watching, knowing he’ll pretend not to care. But his eyes betray him.

“Are you gonna say anything?” you say, looking at your dresser.

His arms are crossed, leaning against your wall again. “About what.” he mutters.

You let out a breathy laugh, pulling your sleep shirt on. “Wow. That’s where we’re at?”

“I’m not doing this.”

He’s already annoyed. Voice flat. Defensive. His posture stiffens, like you’re coming at him with a knife and not your heart.

“You’re not doing what, Baby?” you say, turning around to face him. “Having a fucking conversation with the person you’re dating?”

“You wanna fight or something?”

“No.” you snap. “I want something.”

He rolls his eyes. Actually rolls them.

You walk toward him, one slow step at a time, words getting tighter. “I spend my days giving everything I can. I come home, and you’re already here, like I’m just this convenient warm body for you to fuck and ignore. I made room for you, and all you do is act like I’m a fucking option.”

His jaw twitches. “You done?”

“Baby—”

“I said I’m not doing this.”

“No, you’re just gonna do what you always do.” you shoot back. “Shut down, act like I’m annoying for wanting something more than your dick and your bare minimum.”

He snorts. “Yeah, real romantic tone you got there, sweetheart.”

“I was romantic.” you snap, stepping closer. “Remember? I used to wait up for you. Text you goodnight when you wouldn’t answer my calls. I used to bring you shit. Buy you shit. Walk on eggshells so you wouldn’t bolt the second things got even a little uncomfortable.”

He doesn’t look at you.

So you flash him. Pull your shirt up, tits out, confident, shameless.

His eyes snap up to your tits instantly. Wide. Caught.

“I’m listening.”

“Good.” you say, letting the shirt drop. “Because if you don’t do something, if you don’t try, don’t show me that you actually give a shit, we’re done.”

He stares at you. Long. Silent. But now it’s not cold anymore.

Now, it’s panic.

Because you’ve never said that before.

You’ve cried. Pleaded. Begged him to change, to care, to show you even a fraction of the love you’ve always given him.

But now? Now you’re done begging.

Now it’s a warning.

And he knows that you mean it.

“Ball’s in your court, Baby.”

Silence. His eyes are on your face, running over it.

“God. You’re dramatic as shit sometimes.” he mutters. “But you’re right.”

That gets you to stop.

He’s standing there in the middle of your room like he doesn’t even know why he opened his mouth. Hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. Kicking at the edge of your rug like it’s personally offended him.

“You said some stuff,” he continues, voice all low and annoyed. “and I guess some of it was kinda valid or whatever.”

You blink. “Kinda valid?”

He shrugs, not meeting your eye. “Yeah. I dunno. You said a lot.”

You cross your arms, giving him the stare you once reserved for crying in your pillow after he ghosted you for three days straight. “You are so bad at this.”

“Yeah.”

Pause.

“I’m good at killing things. And being immortal. And… I don’t know. Music, I guess.”

He finally lifts his eyes to yours.

You inhale.

And just like that… the air feels different.

Because for the first time since you met him—since you gave him your time, your bed, your fucking heart—he’s not dodging it. He’s not pulling away. He’s just… honest. Moody and bratty and ungrateful, but trying.

This is him, trying.

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“I’ve been a dick.” he adds, quieter. “I know that. But if someone’s gonna fuck this up… I’d rather it be me than someone else.”

God. God.

You stare at him, heart stuttering.

He looks almost bored, almost put-out, but his hands are clenched inside his hoodie pocket. And his voice is just a little too tight.

And for some reason, that’s what does it.

“…You could’ve just said that months ago,” you murmur.

He exhales. A short breath through his nose. “Yeah. Well. Fuckin’ hindsight.”

You look up at him again.

He shrugs. “I treat everyone like shit. You’re not special.”

Your jaw drops. “What the fuck—”

“I mean—fuck—” he drags a hand over his face, groaning like you’re the one being difficult. “You are special. I don’t know what the fuck to do with that, okay? Jeez.”

You blink at him. “Try not being a dick?”

“I am a dick.” he says, voice flat, deadpan.

You squint at him. “…Okay?”

Silence.

He shrugs again. “So yeah. Maybe I’ll do better. Or whatever.”

Or whatever.

“I’m not promising I’ll be good at this.” he mutters.

You smile, soft. Tired. “You won’t be.”

He nods. Accepting that like it’s fair.

“…But I’m not done.” he says. Quiet. “With you.”

You pause. Then nod once. “Okay.”

Settled.

Not perfect. Not even close.

But something.

“You’ve got one shot, Baby.” you say, voice low. “Don’t fuck it up.”

He exhales. Rolls his eyes. Mumbles, “Whatever.”

The next day, at the boys’ place, music’s playing. Abby’s doing push-ups with a resistance band around his biceps for no reason. Mystery’s on the floor eating cold noodles straight out the container with his claws. Jinu’s yelling about posture again. You’re not here. You’re off existing like the angel you are, probably making someone’s day just by breathing.

Baby’s sitting on a folding chair like he owns the air. Lazy. Legs wide. Arms draped over the back. Looking like he’s five seconds from asking someone to peel him a grape.

And then with the kind of exaggerated sigh only a 300-year-old emotionally stunted demon brat can produce, he stands up, walks over to Jinu and lifts his hand.

Palm out. Up. Like a fucking royal.

Jinu, mid-step, doesn’t even look. Just groans and digs into his pocket.

A crumpled wad of cash gets slapped into Baby’s hand.

Baby doesn’t thank him. He doesn’t even blink. He just starts counting. Out loud. Slow. Disrespectfully.

Finally, Jinu pauses his barking just long enough to glare at him. “What the hell do you even need money for, Baby?”

Baby shrugs. Not looking up. “Buying flowers.”

Silence.

“What?” Jinu repeats, like he heard wrong.

Baby lifts his head now. Slowly. Like this is the most normal thing in the world.

“For my girlfriend.” he says, deadpan. “Obviously.”

…

The silence that follows is generational. Ancestral. Thick enough to choke on.

Romance drops his hair tie.

Abby’s eye twitches.

Mystery bares a tooth, chewing slower, like he’s trying to process the absurdity.

Jinu actually freezes, hands out, mouth open.

Baby just tucks the cash into his hoodie. Walks toward the exit like nothing happened.

They don’t speak. But they all look at each other like: “Did he hit his head?” “Did she finally punch the feelings into him during sex?”

And maybe that’s how the world ends.

Not with a bang. Not with a demon apocalypse.

But with Baby suddenly acting like a boyfriend.

Buying daisies with Jinu’s cash.

Love is dead.

So is logic.

So is Jinu’s trust fund.

But hey…

He’s buying flowers.

And honestly?

That’s probably the most growth anyone’s seen from him since the 1800s.

#kpdh #kpop demon hunters #kpop demon hunters x reader #saja boys x reader #saja boys #the saja boys #kpdh x reader #kpdh x you #baby kpdh #baby kpop demon hunters #baby saja #baby saja x reader

2K notes · View notes

yintous · 2 months ago

Text

party 4 u

❪ masterlist ❫ · out of character (or not) things the batboys did while being head over heels for you ⸝⸝⸝ crackfic ノ situationship hcs

🗒️ not proofread, more content under the cut ; VERY SATIRE. inspired by my sweeter than honey work and stupid things i did for my ex-situationship

DICK GRAYSON

wholeheartedly cussed out a barista inside his head when he saw them subtly flirting with you at the cashier

when his jealousy is mild he’s like “oh my god. i hope they slip on a drink and ruin that stupidly clean apron.” or “i can make a better latte! (name) just hasn’t seen it yet 🙄”

and he actually did learn how to make a better latte—that resulted in you visiting his apartment for morning coffee (when you went home he turned to the sky and absorbed the sunlight. eyes closed and everything out of pure gratitude)

started journaling whenever he got impulsively jealous and frustrated over the unlabeled relationship and somehow it always ends up being a love letter to you???

when he senses your presence, he gives himself five seconds to fix his hair and practice a charming smile before facing you 😭😭😭 atp it’s a habit he can never get rid of

you once saw him smiling weirdly at a mirror when he thought you weren’t looking (he was trying to see what the best smile was…..literally scrolled abt the types of smiles people have before it all) and you had to resist the urge to outright giggle

JASON TODD

listened to radiohead’s whole discography when he first got jealous while glaring at his ceiling, arms crossed and everything

his brooding got ruined when his earphones started glitching and he had to hold one of them at a specific angle so both of them would have audio

brushes his bangs back whenever he sighs at the thought of you (you literally cannot leave his brain). he brushed his hair back so often you thought he suddenly started liking slickbacks

scrolled through a comment section full of people that were ranting abt the annoying stuff their partners do and made a vow to himself to never do the things mentioned to you

goons CANNOT get away from him when he’s having a day wherein he got jealous over someone else flirting with you 😭 and after allat beating up and shooting the said goons, he acts like nothing happened

as in he literally texts you a “good evening” text and asked if you were free for dinner (it was two am)

TIM DRAKE

he felt like he was in a bad romcom. desperate times call for desperate measures i fear 💔 tried to analyze your body language to somehow read your mind/feelings toward him (he got 0 sleep that day)

wasn’t a believer in astrology but proceeded to analyze his and your birth chart to see if you guys would fit (he somehow found your documents)

tried the “triangle method” on you where he looks to your left eye, then your right, then to your lips—and was genuinely confused when YOU looked confused

you overheard him ranting to himself about your situationship. he was putting a lot of emotion into it

(sometimes he literally mumbles in ANGER abt it when he sleeps)

tried to deepen his voice around you (esp during the times where you two banter) but it did nothing but make the mood awkward (grew the habit of sending vms instead of text messages while deepening his voice bc he thought it’ll make you like him more)

DUKE THOMAS

bit a little too hard on your bottom lip while kissing you

he could’ve sworn he saw the grim reaper because of how embarrassed he was when he heard your noise of pain LIKE 💔💔 every time he closes his eyes, he sees it happening again

like jason, his charger instead of his earphones broke while texting you so he had to angle his phone a certain way while trying to keep up a convo with you

to make it even worse, it was overheating and all too 🥀🥀🥀 in the back of his mind he could already see the image of his phone exploding right in front of him but he still didn’t gaf and continued texting you

was lowkey obsessed with your perfume and hated the push-and-pull situationship thing so when you were away from him, he went on a whole perfume hunt

and the salespeople who assisted him were so?? confused?? because of how specific his description was??? and the description felt targeted to a certain someone instead of it being about an actual perfume??

DAMIAN WAYNE

dedicates every art he’s consumed to you OR gets inspired by said art to create something similar to the media that was presented to him

once wrote a romeo and juliet piece but it was yours and his version of it with no death or wtv (he made one of the lines from the story his wallpaper)

made a 100 excuses about needing to learn body anatomy so you’d get the hint and FINALLY let him use your appearance to study anatomy (he needed an excuse to look at you more without getting teased)

overheard that you liked ear piercings on guys so he pierced himself while half asleep in his bathroom

he would’ve regretted it if he didn’t catch your eyes wandering to the new piercing the morning after

impulsively carved your name on his sword and he is NOT hearing the end of it from his family at all

2K notes · View notes

wonderjanga · 6 months ago

Text

Batson Becomes a Bat Son?

Yeah no, fuck that. Bat son becomes a Batson.

Batman: *looking more depressed than usual*

Marvel: *feels bad and doesn’t know what to do* “Uh… wanna hold my hand?”

Batman: “…Is that a genuine offer?”

Marvel: “Yeah?”

Batman: *stares for a solid minute* “Yes.”

Later…

Reporter: “Batman, what do you have to say this photo of you and Captain Marvel holding hands?”

Batman: *looks dead at the camera* “It was a moment of weakness.”

Marvel: “Mr. Batman Sir!” *floats over to him, holding something behind his back*

Batman: “Yes, Captain?” *zeroes in on the fact he’s hiding something*

Marvel: “I got you something. You like Gray Ghost, right?”

Batman: “Yes…?”

Marvel: “Here.” *hands him a Gray Ghost figure*

Batman: *slightly surprised a “grown man” gave another grown man an action figure as a gift and sees that the figure is super old* “Is this vintage?”

Marvel: “It shouldn’t be?”

Batman: *uses nerd knowledge* “This specifically stopped being manufactured in the seventies.”

Marvel: *nodding along like he’s actually invested in this convo* “Oh really?”

Billy found that in the trash, and cleaned it the best he could so he could give it to him. He did not know.

Marvel: “So does that mean you like it?”

Batman: “Yes.” *very carefully puts it into his utility belt* “Thank you.”

Marvel: “You were amazing Mr. Batman Sir!” *pats his chrome dome*

Batman: *registers that his head was pat*

Marvel: *realizes he pat a grown man’s head*

*silence*

Marvel: *slowly pulls his hand away and looks ashamed* “I… am so sorry.”

Batman: “Hn.”

Marvel: “I am! I swear! It’s just that I do that to Junior and Mary a lot and I wasn’t thinking when I did it to you! I promise it won’t ever happen again!”

Bruce didn’t know what that means, because does that translate to “I thought of you as my own kid for a solid second” or does that translate to “My bad, muscle memory”?

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

1K notes · View notes

the-auguer · 4 months ago

Text

Surprise, Surprise

Tiny little drabble of Sylus based on a random text convo where he’s like “yeah, lol, ppl are attacking the base rn baby”. he’s my babygirl and I’m literally obsessed with him etc etc. no content warnings, just fluff

There are strange noises coming from the other side of the house. It makes your brows furrow, uncertainty making you pause in the grand foyer. It’s in your nature as a hunter to investigate, to take initiative and listen to your gut. Your hand drifts down to your Harrier 700, lightly thumbing at the holster.

But you’re tired. This week hadn’t just dug its fangs into you, it had nearly ripped bloody chunks from your body. Literally. An entire pack of Elysian Lupus had been giving you pain since Sunday— and these were smart little shits because they somehow knew to run away while other Wanderers attacked civilians. You had taken a grim kind of pleasure in finally destroying the last one.

So instead of unholstering your very illegal, very dangerous gun, you pluck your phone from your pocket and open up your contacts.

Sylus picks up after a ring and a half— practically late for him. “To what do I owe this pleasure, sweetie? It’s rather early for you to be calling.”

“Captain Jenna gave me the day off,” you can’t help but brag. “Due to my excellence in the field and all that. I was going to surprise you.”

“Were you?” Sylus hums. There are more sounds on the other side of the line, further cementing your belief that something is happening. “What changed?”

“There are weird sounds coming from somewhere. Is something going on?”

“Oh, nothing much.” There is something like a pained grunt that reaches your ears, but it’s not Sylus’s so you keep waiting. “The base is just under attack.”

Your chest tightens, your hand gripping the handle of your gun. It takes a couple seconds, but your knee-jerk compulsion to charge to Sylus’s side subsides. Whatever is going on, Sylus doesn’t sound all that worried about it. If anything, there is a bit of laughter bleeding through his voice. Luke and Kieran are more than likely next to him as well, as they were the ones you texted to ensure that Sylus was even home for your surprise. Not to mention the seemingly endless supply of personal weapons Sylus could use if he decided his fists weren’t enough. Whatever idiot decided to attack Sylus on his turf— in his own house— deserved what was coming to them. The muscles that had tensed without your realization slowly relaxed.

“Do you need any help?” you ask, just to be sure.

“Not unless you want to play with any of the mice, kitten.” Sylus chuckles at his own joke. Once again, you think to yourself that he really is lucky that he is the most attractive man alive. Those words in anyone else’s mouth would have made you hang up.

“I’ll just wait for you to finish. I’ve done enough playing this week,” you tell him, squatting down to unlace your boots.

“Ah yes,” Sylus purrs. “My exemplary hunter has worked so hard this week.”

“Those stupid mutts,” you complain as you toe off your shoes, feet aching pleasantly against the cool tile flooring. Driving here by bike has not helped the soreness of your body, but you’re hoping the long weekend here will heal you. “Did you see them, Sylus? They were playing with me.”

“Yes, I did. How very cruel of them to doge Miss Hunter. How silly of them to want to stay alive.”

“It was,” you reply, padding down the massive halls. “They targeted other Fluxes on purpose, Sylus. I know they knew I couldn’t chase them if I had other problems on my hands.” You poke your head around a corner. “Where are you at, by the way?”

“Near the grounds. They thought they could weasel their way in under the fence. Oh, look Kieran. They finally brought out their guns.”

True to his word, you hear the echo of gunshots both through the phone and from the air around you. Luckily, the grounds are a far way off from Sylus’s bedroom, so your original plan is still intact. You continue to walk.

“Keep those away from me,” you order. “I’m too tired to dodge anything.”

“They won’t make it through the walls, sweetie. They’re reinforced.”

Despite his words, the sound of gunfire abruptly cuts off.

“Perfect. Who are they anyway?”

“Who knows,” Sylus sounds deeply uninterested in the answer. “I don’t keep track of small fry.”

“Yes you do. I bet you let them attack. Were you getting bored, Sylus?”

Sylus laughs, low and pleased. It makes you smile. “Well, if I’d known you were coming, I wouldn’t be entertaining other guests today.”

“But then it wouldn’t have been a surprise. And now you’re surprised and happy that I’m here.”

“Am I?”

Your hand pauses on the door handle of his bedroom. It was presumptuous to show up to his house, to invite yourself in. But you had rather gotten the impression that he wanted you to be presumptuous. Unless you read it wrong and now you look like an asshole. “Are you?”

There’s a slight pause before Sylus’s voice comes back through the phone, sounding even warmer than before. “I’m very happy. So happy I’ve grown bored of my other guests and aren’t letting them play as long as I scheduled. I’ve even asked the chef to come back in for the weekend.”

There’s a glow of delight pressing on the inside of your chest, coiling around your heart. You open the door to Sylus’s room and go even further by opening the door to his closet. “Mm, good.”

“What’s that rustling I’m hearing?”

“I’m in your closet,” you inform him as you run your fingers over the clothes in consideration. “I didn’t want to carry anything on the bike and I figured you’d have anything I needed.”

“I do,” he says, a satisfied inflection in his tone. “And if there’s anything I don’t have, I’ll get it.”

A smile pulls at your lips, the pleased feeling in your chest swelling again. “I know,” you reply, feeling impossibly fond. You pick out a shirt of his that you like, one of his casual sweaters that you’ve seen him wear more than a singular time, and walk out.

“What are your plans for our weekend?”

“Nothing really.” You put him on speaker before placing your phone on his nightstand to change. “I figured we could sleep, actually, since it’s around the time that you usually go to bed. I could use a really long nap after this week.” You leave your bike clothes on the floor in a heap and your gun in the holster on the nightstand. You’ll fix them later. You’re sore and tired and bundled up in Sylus’s sweater in front of the comfiest bed known to man. You’re not folding those things.

Before crawling under his duvet, you pull your phone off the nightstand. Speakerphone is loud enough to catch the intake of breath from the other side.

“Kitten…. are you in my bed?”

“Mhm,” you reply, arranging the pillows as you like them. “You don’t have to rush what you’re doing. I told you I’d wait.”

There is a moment of silence before Sylus says a simple, even, “I’ll be there in a moment,” before hanging up.

Bemused, you toss your phone back onto the nightstand and pull the duvet up to your chin. The bed is so wonderfully comfortable, you feel your weary muscles sink into the plush beauty of it.

You don’t do anything more than rest your eyes for a few moments before the door is opening. It’s telling that your hand doesn’t even twitch towards your gun, that your eyes only crack open to greet him. Sylus would never let someone into a room where you were resting.

Sylus strides in, hardly stopping for the half a second it takes to close the door behind him. You don’t have the time to say anything before he is on the bed, pulling you to his chest.

“Hi,” you breathe. He’s on top of the blankets, making it a slight struggle to pull your arms out from under them to hold him in return. Despite having just been in a gunfight, his clothes are pristine and his skin is free from any sweat. There’s the faint smell of his cologne and the warmth of his body. You press your face into his neck to inhale all of it.

“When you said you would wait,” he starts, hands smoothing back and forth over your spine, his low voice rumbling through his chest to yours, “I didn’t imagine it would be in my bed. In my clothes.”

You try to pull back to look at him, put his hand pushed your face back into your neck. “Don’t. Stay right here.”

“Sorry,” you whisper back. Should you have asked before getting in his bed? He doesn’t seem to be mad at all, so maybe not? “You didn’t have to leave because of me.”

“Don’t apologize either.” He squeezes you closer, the thick duvet squished flat between the two of you. “I am… very happy. I am happier here than I was out there. Luke and Kieran will handle the rest.”

“Okay,” you mumble, lips brushing his skin. “I— I’m happy too. That you’re here now. I wanted to see you.”

“You should have said so.”

You scoff. “It was obvious. Why else would I be here?”

Sylus hums. “To arrest me, perhaps? That would be fun.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” you say darkly. You don’t think you could stomach even pretending to arrest Sylus. You shift around trying to pull some slack from the part of the duvet trapped under Sylus’s hulking body. “Get ready for bed so you can get under the blanket with me.”

A soft kiss is pressed to the top of your forehead. “Alright. Stay here.”

You turn over to watch him as he walks into his closet. He emerges fairly quickly after, just in a pair of pajama pants. You catch a glimpse of a pile on the floor of his closet before he shuts the door.

As he makes his way back, you peel back the blanket from his side, inviting him in. Once he lays down, he pulls you to him again, hitching your leg over his thigh and sliding his arm under your pillow. You shift, settling into the position, wrapping your arm back around him. He leans in so that your nose brushes his.

“I might insist that you do this every weekend,” he murmurs, eyes locked with yours.

“I might let you,” you say back.

Sylus sighs, pushing your head into his neck again, his nose in your hair now. “Your answer had better be the same when you’re no longer tired.”

“We’ll see.”

When your eyes start to drift closed, he says quietly, “It was a good surprise.”

You smile into the skin of his neck.

#if you can’t tell that I’m dying to hold hands with him and smooch him then I’m doing something wrong #lads sylus #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #lads fluff #sylus fluff #augury writes #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace

474 notes · View notes

atlabeth · 1 year ago

Text

family line

pt 2

pairing: spencer reid x gideon!reader

a/n: pardon the end where i just go into endless conversation for no reason but i cannot control myself. anyways thank you sosososo much for all the love on the last part and gideon!reader as a whole it makes me so happy!! enjoy some dad-daughter-spence car convos(arguing) and some elle time

wc: 3.8k

warning(s): the usual! r and gideon argue, gideon is not a good dad(but theres some reconciliation), angst, hurt/comfort, but some fluff between r and gideon & spence. more of a set-up chapter

The drive over to the safe house is a long one, and unfortunately, not a quiet one.

Spencer takes the back seat, leaving shotgun for you with your dad. He spends the entirety of the drive briefing you on what living in a safe house will entail, all the things you can and can’t do.

You can’t use your phone because it could be tracked. You can’t leave the place without Spencer because you are, in fact, being stalked. You’re not to reveal anything about your location to anyone—you’re basically shut off from the world until the unsub is behind bars.

And once he’s done briefing you, he basically starts interrogating you.

“Have you been contacted like this before in any way?”

You huff a laugh. “What, with creepy pictures of myself? No.”

“Anything unsettling,” he clarifies. “A text message, a call, an email— anything that rubbed you the wrong way that you might’ve just passed off as a joke or spam.”

“No,” you repeat.

“You’re sure?”

“How many times do I have to say no?” You pull your phone out of your pocket and stare at your dad. “Go through it if you want. You won’t find anything.”

He pauses, then he nods. “Reid.”

You shake your head with a slight laugh, then turn it over as Spencer extends a hand. He flips it open and starts to go through it, and you just cross your arms and stare out the windshield.

“We should really hand this over to Garcia,” he says. “She’ll be able to do a lot more than I can. I don’t really—”

“Like technology, I know,” your dad finished. “We will. Just trying to get all the leads we can upfront.”

You sigh, but you keep quiet. You guess you can’t really consider it an invasion of privacy when there’s a stalker after you.

“We typically talk to stalking victims for a while to figure out their lifestyle and possible suspects, as well as the type of stalker we’re dealing with,” Spencer says. “We don’t exactly have the time for that here.”

“This unsub has already been watching you for a month, maybe more,” your dad says. “He’s made his first move by reaching out to me—that means he wants us to know about him, wants you to know about him.” He glances over at you. “He wants to scare you. You’re not going to give him that satisfaction.”

“You’re jetting me off to a safehouse before you’ve even gotten the chance to look into any leads,” you say. “It looks like we’re pretty scared, Dad.”

“It’s preparation,” he says. “The unsub has made his first move—I’m not going to wait around for him to make another and compromise your safety.”

“This could also be a lot more dangerous than we think,” Spencer says. You still hear him clicking through your messages, and you’re beginning to regret your decision to turn it over to him. “Our unsub could be someone after Gideon using you as collateral.”

Your heart stops for a split second and your attention snaps to your father. “What?”

“…It is a likely option,” he says. “Very few people know you as my daughter. Someone who wants to hurt me could try to use you to do it.”

“So I was right,” you say. “This is only happening because I’m your daughter.”

“Do you want me to say yes?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Yes— I want you to admit that I’ve missed out on all the positives of you being my dad and gotten stuck with all the negatives!”

“This is not the time,” he says.

“How is it not the time?” you ask with a laugh. “You’ve said it yourself several times— my life is in danger. There’s someone out there that might kill me to get back at you. What is a better time than this to talk about how shitty of a dad you’ve been?”

“A better time would be when we aren’t this high strung,” he says evenly. “Neither of us are thinking as properly as we should be. We don’t want to say anything we’ll regret.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll regret any of this,” you say. “After all, I could be dead soon, right? I should get all those regrets out of the way.”

“Please stop arguing,” Spencer interrupts hastily. “This— this is very uncomfortable.”

You scoff. The flames burn just as bright, but for some reason, you decide to hold them back a bit.

“I’m sure it’s real hard for you, boy genius.”

The silence lingers. You can tell he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. Your dad, to his credit, doesn’t stoke the fire.

It looks like you’re all capable of restraint today.

“I— I went through all her messages,” Spencer continues. It irks you that he talks like you’re not here. “There’s nothing suspicious there, at least.”

“Good,” your dad says. “I’ll hand it over to Garcia after I drop you both off.”

“We’re not gonna have a car?” you ask.

“You’ll have this one,” he says. “That’s why Agent Greenaway is following us.”

“Elle’s coming?” Spencer asks, and you see him perk up. You belatedly wonder what that deal is.

“Just so she can drive me back to the office,” your dad says. “She offered.”

“What’s everyone else doing?”

“Garcia is digging through some of your personal records for the team,” he says, glancing at you. “JJ is in contact with the local police stations so they’re ready once we have a profile. Morgan and Hotch should be looking through every case I’ve closed to get a running list of suspects.”

“Great,” you say as you lean back in your seat. “Nothing like getting my whole life aired out and put under a microscope.”

“It already is,” Spencer says. “You’ve got a stalker.”

“Thanks, Spencer,” you mutter. “I forgot.”

The rest of the drive goes by with ease—at least, relative to how difficult you’ve made everything else.

You’re already sick of Spencer Reid by the time you get out of the car. You don’t know how you’re going to survive such close quarters under these kinds of circumstances.

Another car parks next to you as the three of you get out, and your eyes are drawn to the woman that steps out.

“Easy drive?” your dad asks.

“I was right behind you,” Agent Greenaway says. “You drive like an old man.”

Your dad just barely smiles. “Stay with her, Elle. Reid and I are going to check the perimeter.”

“You can’t be serious,” you cut in.

“I already told you I’m not taking chances with this,” he says, and he takes his gun out. “This won’t take long.”

Spencer takes his out as well—he carries it with both hands, like it’s actually weighing him down, and it’s a bit ridiculous—and they split to cover both sides of the house and the surrounding area. You sigh and shake your head as you cross your arms.

“He’s certainly spirited,” Agent Greenaway says.

You huff a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I’m Elle, by the way,” she says. “I know we haven’t been formally introduced.”

You nod your acknowledgment and say your name. “Nice to meet you.”

She turns to fully face you. “Do you mind if I say a few things?”

“If it’s about my dad—”

“It’s not,” she interrupts with a wry smile, “I promise.”

You shrug. “Then sure.”

“First, I just want to ask if you’re doing alright,” she says. “You’ve gotten a lot dropped on you all at once.”

“I’m as good as I can be,” you say.

Elle nods, and her eyes soften. “I’m not gonna tell you to take it easy on Gideon. He’s an incredible agent, but that makes it hard to be a good dad.”

You don’t say anything, and she continues.

“My dad was on the force too. I resented him for a lot of my childhood because he was gone so often, but… then he was killed in the line of duty.”

You frown. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Elle nods in thanks. “I’m not trying to get sympathy. I’m just saying I know what it’s like.”

You shift your balance and sigh, glancing away momentarily. “Everyone here sees him as a hero, and— and he is. He started this whole thing and you all save lives every day, but it feels like he’s missed my entire life because of it.” You huff a bitter laugh. “I think you all know him better than I do.”

“I think you’re probably right,” she admits. “You deserve to be angry. And honestly, I think you deserve to hate him some for it.”

You huff a slight laugh. “You’re the one person who hasn’t tried to make me feel bad for it.”

She shrugs. “You’re in an awful situation and it might be because of him. You don’t have to have endless grace.”

“Any chance I can get you to stay in here with me instead of Spencer?” you ask.

She smiles. “I don’t think Gideon wants to stick the two of us in a house together. But I am gonna make sure we catch this guy.”

“These kinds of assholes go after vulnerable women because it gives them the attention they crave,” she continues. “They worm themselves into their lives and disrupt it all and it makes them feel powerful—you have to play to their whims.”

“Sounds like you have a lot of experience with this,” you murmur.

“I have a lot of experience putting away sick men,” Elle says.

“Do you have any advice, then?” you ask weakly.

“I’ve only been around you for a few hours, but I already know you’re better and stronger than whatever bastard is after you,” she says. “He wants to control your life. Don’t let him.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “I’m… really glad you’re on my side.”

She smiles again. “Just doing my job.”

Your eyes latch onto your dad as he and Spencer come back around the front, and they both tuck their guns back into their holsters.

“It’s all clear,” your dad says.

“And I’m not dead,” you say. “Looks like we’re all doing good.”

He chooses to ignore you, instead looking at Elle. “Did you go over anything with her?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “Just gave some advice.”

“Great,” Spencer says. “Just what I need.”

“Oh, get over yourself, Reid,” Elle says. “You’ll be fine.”

You don’t miss the look he gives her, and your dad clears his throat. “Can you take her inside and check everything? Reid and I need to talk.”

He frowns. “We do?”

“Sure,” she nods.

You stare at your dad this time, and he doesn’t entertain your annoyance with some of his own. “We’ll be in soon.”

“Sure,” you repeat.

You follow Elle in—you don’t feel like getting a lecture on safety just yet—and when you pass a glance over your shoulder, you meet Spencer’s eyes. He was watching you.

His eyes dart away just as quickly, and you huff the slightest laugh. You don’t know if he’s scared of you or just tired of you already, but whichever one, you don’t really care. If you have to be stuck in this house with him, he has to be stuck in there with you too.

Elle shows you around the place, and it’s nothing special—a one story house with two bedrooms and a noticeable lack of windows, furnished plainly with a couch and a few chairs, a small kitchen table, a television. You’re honestly surprised at how nice it all is.

But as she takes you on the impromptu tour, you can’t stop thinking about her words. You can’t stop thinking about all of it, honestly.

A month ago, you were driving home in silence after your dad forgot about the plans you made. A week ago, you were out for drinks with friends.

Today, you’re hunkering down in a safe house because there’s a stalker after you, and you have to do it with your dad’s stand-in kid.

That’s what gets you, you think. That you know more about Spencer Reid than anyone at his job knows about you—that your dad ignores you in favor of his work, and instead of trying to fit you into his life, he finds an FBI replacement.

Your jaw clenches. It takes a few seconds for you to realize you’ve completely tuned out Elle, only really coming out of it when she says your name.

“Sorry,” you say. “I was distracted.”

“I don’t blame you,” she says wryly.

You’re about to respond when Spencer walks in with your dad. His face is slightly flushed and, as opposed to all the other times, he won’t make eye contact with you. You can only imagine what your dad decided to talk to him about.

“You showed her around?” your dad asks.

Elle nods. “The basics. She and Reid can figure out the rest.”

“Thank you,” he says. He looks at Spencer, who has his hands stuffed in his pockets and is very intently focused on the wall behind you. “Help Elle get the rest of the things out of her car.”

He frowns. “Elle doesn’t need my help.”

“Come on, Reid,” she says as she starts to walk.

He blinks and nods. “Oh. Uh— yeah.”

You feel his eyes on you as he goes, but you don’t meet them. You just stare at your father.

“Is it my turn for a lecture?”

His eyes soften as he says your name. “This isn’t how I want things to be between us.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, “it takes a decade or two of neglect to get here.”

“You’re right,” he says. “You wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me. But I’m going to get you out of it.”

“I hope so,” you say. “Because I don’t really know how Doctor Reid is going to help.”

“Don’t take it out on Reid,” your dad says. “Hate me all you want, but leave him out of it.”

“You’re the one that pulled him into it,” you retort. “He’s more your kid than I am.”

“And I regret it,” he says. Your eyes widen a bit, and it actually gets you to shut up. “I regret that it took something like this for me to be a part of your life again. But I don’t want our last interaction before you’re sequestered for the indefinite future to be a fight.”

“That’s all I’m good at when it comes to you,” you mumble. The wind has been taken out of your sails considerably.

“And I want to change that,” he says. “But first, we have to get through this. And we’re going to get through it together, sweetheart.”

The term of affection feels strange coming from him. Ever since your teenage years, he’s felt less like your dad and more like some estranged cousin. You hate it. You hate how unfamiliar everything feels with him. Jason Gideon has been a profiler longer than he’s been a dad and it shows in your every interaction with him.

But still, your heart aches. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“You promise?” you ask. You feel like a kid again.

“I promise,” he says.

Then your dad pulls you into a hug, and for a moment, you freeze. You can’t remember the last time he hugged you.

Despite the anger inside of you, the bitterness built in your bones, you can’t help it—you hug him back. You practically melt into his arms as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stop the sudden threat of tears.

Because deep down beneath it all, you’re scared. You’re fucking terrified, actually, and right now you’re just a girl who wants comfort from her dad.

“I love you,” he says.

“…I love you too,” you mumble.

Neither of you pull away for a good thirty seconds. When you do, you turn around to wipe your eyes, not wanting him to see. You hear the door open and start, but it’s just Spencer and Elle with some bags and boxes.

“Elle’s got some groceries,” your dad says, clearing his throat. “We’ll deliver more if necessary, but you’ve got the basics for a couple weeks, at least.”

“And a whole lot of books and movies,” Spencer says, hefting the box in his hands. “Did you know that there have been approximately 122 million unique titles published since the invention of Gutenberg’s printing press in 1440?”

“That’s less specific than usual,” Elle says. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

He frowns. “I couldn’t find statistics on the exact number.”

“Why were you even looking at those statistics?”

“I get bored sometimes.”

Elle just laughs as they continue into the living room. You feel your dad’s eyes on you, and you sigh.

“I’ll take it easy on him,” you say. “Mostly. Maybe.”

And he actually smiles. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say offhandedly, but you find the slightest smile creeping on your lips as well. You kind of hate it.

Everything else goes by relatively quickly now that you’re not arguing every single thing—you have to fight your instincts not to, but you manage—and eventually, after another lingering hug and some promises to be safe (and one from Spencer to your dad to keep you safe)—you’re alone in the house with him.

“So,” you say as you settle on the couch, “this is what the indefinite future is going to be like.”

“If it makes you feel better, last time we dealt with a stalker we caught them in a few days,” Spencer says. “She watched her for a good while, though.”

“It doesn’t make me feel better,” you say. “Thanks.”

“...Sorry.”

You shrug your indifference and Spencer walks past you, focusing in on some of the paintings hanging on the wall. You’re sure he knows the artist, title, and meaning behind every single one, so you speak up before he can start.

“What did you and Elle talk about?”

“How this place doesn’t have a pool,” he says.

You frown. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “What’d you and Gideon talk about?”

“We fought then made up,” you say. “It was… weird.”

Spencer looks at you. “How?”

You shrug again as you cross your arms. “You’ve seen how we are. We don’t exactly get along.”

“Has he really been that bad of a dad?”

“It’s none of your business,” you say. “But… yes. He’s barely been a dad at all.”

Spencer shakes his head. “I don’t get that. He’s so different in the field.”

“That’s why he’s barely been a dad—because he’s so busy here.” You tilt your head. “Don’t you have some facts or whatever on the percentage of fathers that are workaholics?”

“Well, 89% of dads work full time,” Spencer says. “And fathers typically work around 47 hours a week. But I don’t have anything on workaholics specifically.”

“Great.” You stand up and walk over to the box of DVDs Spencer set down on the table, and you start rifling through them. “So, what’d my dad tell you about me?”

Spencer blinks. “What do you mean?”

“When I came in here with Elle and he kept you out there,” you say. “Did he give you the run-down? Warn you on how difficult I am to be around? Tell you that I hate you?”

His Adam’s apple bobs. “Uh— no. He just… talked to me. Gave the rundown on everything.”

You hum. “You can tell the truth.”

“I— I am,” he says. He’s clearly not. “He didn’t say anything bad about you. Promise.”

“Whatever you say.” You land on a DVD and glance over at him. “How do you feel about Groundhog Day?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t like Bill Murray.”

You frown. “That’s ridiculous. How can you not like Ghostbusters?”

“I love Ghostbusters.”

“How can you like Ghostbusters but not Bill Murray?”

“Because I like the concept more than I like him,” he says. “I love Halloween.”

You shake your head and move on. “Who put these together?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Gideon? Or maybe some random BAU office worker.”

“It’s an interesting compilation.” You look up at him again. “How about Dirty Dancing?”

“No.”

“No reasoning?”

“I don’t feel like dealing with a musical right now,” he says.

“So you choose to deprive me of Patrick Swayze,” you tut. You grab one movie out of the back and hold it up. “If I put on Goodfellas, will you interrupt every five seconds with facts?”

“...I can push it back to every thirty seconds,” he says.

“Five minutes,” you say.

“One minute.”

“Two.”

“One forty-five?”

“Two—take it or leave it.”

“Technically I have all the power here,” Spencer says. “I can talk nonstop about anything. Putting down a movie narrows that down.”

“...One fifty.”

He nods, and you huff a disbelieving laugh as you put the DVD in the player.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re ridiculous?”

“A lot,” he says as he sits down on the couch. “I usually get insufferable or weird or annoying, though. So ridiculous isn’t too bad.”

“Well, you’re certainly something.”

“That’s also not too bad,” he says. “I could even take it as a compliment.”

You sigh and pick up the remote before you sit back down. You look up at the clock on the wall and bite back a curse.

“It’s only been ten minutes,” you mutter.

“Ten minutes and thirty-four seconds, actually,” Spencer says. “Did you know that Scorsese actually cast real mobsters as extras? The cast members were told ahead of time so they could show the necessary respect to them while they were on set. There’s a whole mafia hierarchy, and only full-blooded Italians—”

“I haven’t even gotten to the start screen,” you interrupt in disbelief.

Spencer shrugs. “You said every minute and fifty seconds. Not how long I could go on for.”

You let out another sigh as he continues on. You bet Spencer could probably recite the whole movie from memory if you asked, but you honestly don’t know if you could take that.

There’s one plus, at least. When you’ve got a human encyclopedia next to you that can spout off whatever information he wants any time he wants, you think you’re gonna have a hard time thinking too much about your stalker.

You look over at Spencer when you finally make it to the opening scene, still talking but now about the different crime families in the United States. His eyebrows are surprisingly animated when he talks, going up and down depending on his inflection, and you find yourself thinking that it’s charming.

It’s annoying how pretty he is, and it’s annoying how annoying he is.

You look away.

This is going to be a very long lockdown.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #x reader #sadie writes

1K notes · View notes

ashwhowrites · 4 months ago

Note

Can you do angst # 26 a bit of a longer fic where Eddie and reader have been married for a couple years and as the years go on the reader starts to feel neglected in their relationship because of him prioritizing his band (or any job you write in). She comes to a breaking point after he overhears a convo on the phone that she has with a coworker and gets jealous, and they get into a fight where she says he's not the person she married or how she feels alone in their relationship. You can decide the end ( if eddie redeems himself or this could be the end of them)

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting ❤️

A new you

“You’re not the same person I married, don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

The dream was for Eddie's career to take off after they got married. Y/N wanted to get married and try for kids before he had to pack up and travel around the world. Everything was going perfectly in the beginning, they were happy and constantly trying for a baby.

But once the band got their name in the stars, Y/N realized her and their marriage got set on the back burner. Eddie spent all his hours in the studio, or at home in his music room as the door was closed. And when the door was closed, that meant Y/N couldn't disturb him.

At first, she didn't want to do anything about it. It was new and exciting and she understood it took a lot of Eddie's time and energy. But months turned into years and now they sat in a marriage that felt like roommates. She missed her husband, she missed his time, his touch and him.

She was hurt she got pushed aside and it hurt even more that they hadn't tried for a baby in months. He has been so caught up with the band that he barely was home, and when he was, it was to drop in bed and be gone by morning. She missed the way their relationship used to be. Back when he looked at her with love and wanted to be with her. Now it seemed he could care less about her.

She tried to talk to him about it but it was nearly impossible. She was at the break of giving up. The thought of leaving him behind and moving on. It was clear he didn't have any mind to save the marriage. Hell, he probably didn't notice it was drowning to begin with. The longer it went on, the more lonely she felt.

"Hey, Eddie?" She whispered, his body next to hers as they lay separately in the bed.

"Hm?" He mumbled, half asleep as his head was buried in the pillows.

"Can you take some time off from the band? Maybe a weekend and we can go off somewhere together?" She asked, rolling over to face him. His eyes weren't open, but the lack of snores told her he was still awake.

"Sure, honey. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

She wasn't shocked that the conversation never happened. It was like he lived a whole different world on his side of the bed. She was close enough to touch him, yet she almost felt like it wasn't her place. She hated that she felt conflicted about wanting to kiss or touch her husband. But anytime she tried, it ended with him pushing her off and her feeling stupid for trying.

She was stuck in a one-sided relationship and she had no idea what to do.

~~~

"I'm going to grab dinner tonight with a co-worker so I might not be home when you are," she explained as she dressed herself. Eddie hummed from the bathroom, spitting out his toothpaste as he half-listened.

"Would you like me to bring you back something?" She asked, walking into the bathroom. She admired how he looked as he brushed his teeth. His messy hair and shirtless chest. She bit her lip as she slowly walked closer to him, the desire to be touched by him was increasing.

"No, I'll send someone to grab something," he shrugged, barely noticing her body as he walked past her and out of the bathroom.

"Or I could bring something to you before I go? We aren't going until like seven," she offered, following behind him. "Maybe give us a chance to talk?"

Eddie threw on his jeans as he looked at her, confused. "Why would you do that?"

She sighed as she tried to remain calm. "Because I'm your wife, Eddie. I'd like to have time with you."

"Look I don't have time for this conversation again. If you stop by, cool. If you don't, that's cool too. But I have to go. Have fun at dinner."

Without a kiss, he went right out the door.

Y/N held her stomach as she tried not to fall out of her chair laughing. Her insides were all clenched as she gasped for air.

"I truly didn't think I was that funny," Logan laughed as he watched her dry her tears.

She calmed herself down, wiping the tears that leaked as she took a big sigh. As the laughter died, she realized how good it felt. She hadn't laughed in what felt like forever. Eddie was the funniest person she'd ever met, but she couldn't remember the last time he cared to make her crack a smile. The thought changed her mood slightly, Logan fast to pick up on it.

"You okay?" He asked, sipping on his glass of wine as she prepared to lie. But she wanted to say it, she needed to clear her brain and maybe she'll sleep better at night.

Within seconds she was spiraling. Telling Logan all about her marriage. How it started so beautifully and how she wished she could do anything to get it back.

Even when he treated her like she was nothing, she wished it was him sitting across from her.

She sighed as she walked into the quiet house. Eddie's car was nowhere in the driveway. She was tempted to drive herself to the studio but she knew that would do nothing in her favor. She climbed into the empty bed, trying to blink away the tears as she fell asleep.

~~~

After dinner with Logan, he asked her to go a few more times. They exchanged their numbers and she spent most of her time talking to him as she waited all night for Eddie to come home. She appreciated having a friend.

"Friday? I mean I should be free. What did you want to do?" Y/N asked, phone against her ear as she scrubbed the dishes.

Eddie slipped into the house, checking his watch as he set down his guitar case. Another late night, he planned to go straight to bed but he heard talking and movement from the kitchen. He was surprised Y/N was still awake.

"I mean, that restaurant is beautiful, and I've always wanted to go. But isn't it a bit romantic?" She asked

Eddie's ears perked up, close enough to hear a man speaking on the other line.

"So? I think you deserve a little romance in your life."

Before Y/N had the chance to say something, or acknowledge Eddie's presence, Eddie was grabbing the phone and hanging it up.

"Edward!" Y/N scolded, reaching for her phone but Eddie shoved it in his back pocket.

"Who the fuck was that?" He asked, clearly fuming.

"Logan, from work," Y/N answered

"Why is Logan wanting to take you out? Uh? Doesn't he know you're married?"

Y/N couldn't help but scuff. "He does, do you?"

"What does that mean?" Eddie asked

"Maybe if you made time to talk to me, you'd understand," she said as she brushed past him. But he was right about her tail. Crazy how he suddenly was wide awake and interested in her.

"Talking right now aren't we?"

Y/N began to angrily make the bed. "No, now it's an argument. You have been ignoring me, abandoning me for that stupid band. I made a friend, it's not my fault he happens to be interested in hanging out with me. Why would I say no? So I can enjoy another lonely night on the couch wondering why my husband hates me?" She took a deep breath as she tried to remain calm.

"Oh don't be dramatic, hate you? Of course, I don't hate you!" Eddie fought, "and you have other friends! Don't you think it's inappropriate for him to ask you somewhere romantic?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, smacking the pillows down. "So yeah, it might be a little inappropriate. Would I let it go somewhere inappropriate? Absolutely not. But maybe this is the wake-up call you need. Because Eddie, the way we are going, I don't want that for my future."

"You don't want me in your future?" Eddie asked, slightly hurt as she sat on the bed.

"I do! But the old Eddie. You’re not the same person I married, and don’t tell me I’m wrong. You are completely different and I'm unhappy," Y/N explained. She looked down at the ring on her finger, "We were supposed to make a family, Eddie."

Eddie felt his anger melting away as she held herself. "We can still have a family, baby." He said softly as he walked over.

"Don't bother lying to me because I'm so close to being done," Y/N bitterly laughed. She ignored his body as he sat across from her, placing a hand on her knees.

"I'm not lying! But you knew this was the dream when we got married."

"FUCK THE DREAM, EDDIE!" She yelled as she stood up. "You have been living the dream for years. What about mine? What about the kids and the big house? You knew my dream when we got married! But mine is not as important? You're different and I hate it."

"Oh, so you hate who I am?" Eddie scoffed, standing up. "I didn't purposely ignore your dream; it's just mine. I was on the tracks and already going. I'm sorry I got caught up in it. I'm guilty of that."

"Yes I do, Eddie!" She spat, staring into his darkening eyes, "I hate this version of you. I want my husband back. The guy who loved me and couldn't breathe without me. You used to love me like crazy, we were never apart. You used to take care of me, hold my hand, and open every door. I used to feel so fixed in your arms, Eddie," she cried, "now? This is the longest we've seen each other in months. Are you seeing someone? Or did you just wake up one day and decide you hated your life with me?"

"Someone else? You really think I'm seeing someone else?" Eddie scoffed, "I'd never do that and I can't believe you think I would. And especially after your new friend asked you on a fucking date!"

"What am I supposed to think? We haven't had sex in months! What happened? We used to have no issues with intimacy. And now we have nothing. Are you not attracted to me anymore? Is that the problem?"

"You're supposed to think I'm loyal and that I'm exactly where I said I would be. I've been at the studio working my ass off. So I'm tired when I come home. I still think you are the most gorgeous woman I've seen, but I'm exhausted when I come home, and I don't want sex."

"What's the point of a marriage if you only care to be at the studio? Hell, move out and live in the damn fucking place." She spat, "I'm done being pushed aside. I'm not going to put effort into a relationship with you when you don't even care to be in it." She cried.

Eddie tried to blink away his own tears as he watched her cry. "So do you want a divorce? Because I don't. It's clear I've fucked up, and I need to work on many things, but in no way do I want to let you go," He asked, his voice cracking as the reality of the question made his insides clench. He hated himself for getting to this point. All he had to do was love her the way she deserved.

"I don't want to leave, and I don't want you to leave. But I need you to be that way again. Please just love me like you used to," she sobbed. Eddie couldn't stop the silent tears that fell down his face as he stood and pulled her into his arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he cried, "I don't want either of us to leave, baby. I love you, so fucking much," he kissed her head. "I'm going to fix this. I'm going to put you and this marriage first. The exact way it should be."

"Can we talk about it in the morning? I just want to sleep next to you," she cried. Eddie softly moved them to the bed, wrapping his arms around her.

She melted into his arms, enjoying the feeling that she hadn't felt in so long. She wasn't sure what tomorrow would bring. If he'd wake up a changed man or wake up the same. She wasn't sure if her marriage was being saved or going under. But right now she felt at home in his arms and that's what she needed for the night.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123 @emxxblog

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #ashwhowrites #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader

464 notes · View notes

mojifushiguro · 20 days ago

Text

unforgettable ! e.yeager & a.arlert

"too much convo for 24 hours..." eren x black!fem x armin

warnings: arguing, language, cursing, mentions of cheating, mild aggression, angst, i apologize for this chapter, lengthy

part 9. this is part 8. next part here.

when eren fixed his pants, he pushed himself off of you, leaning back against the headboard.

"armin." he said once, like he was confirming what he'd just heard.

you nodded, still laying on your back. then you huffed, sliding off the bed and moving carefully towards the bathroom door.

eren kept his eyes on you, low and intense.

you grabbed your underwear off of the ground and shut the bathroom door behind you.

you did your business, zoning out most of the time because of the sheer fear of leaving the bathroom.

you looked in the mirror as you washed your hands, biting your lip nervously.

you really just set yourself and armin up.

you couldn't have said a different name?

someone he didn't know?

someone that wasn't his long-term bestfriend?

you slowly shook your head. you were in for it now, and you knew. for the first time in a while, you hoped he took his anger out on you with just sex, like he used to.

and not armin.

but why feel sympathy for someone who felt none for you?

ugh, your whole life was in a twist right now because of a dumb decision you'd made. if you would've never left eren that day, maybe none of this would've happened.

all because you admitted to cheating. if you didn't, he wouldn't have asked you who it was with, because how would he know?

but you couldn't let it be known that you were running away from your guilt by staying in the bathroom.

that'd be even more humiliating.

the bathroom door slowly opened as you turned the light off, closing it behind you.

you tried to avoid eye contact with eren, but you felt his eyes on you.

like he'd been staring at the door since you went in there, waiting patiently for you to come out.

you crawled into bed, hesitantly sitting near him.

he just stared at you.

he'd never stared at you like that before.

"you playin?" he asked, lips curling into a small smile. you snapped out of your thoughts, looking at him.

"what?"

"you ain't fuck armin. you just sayin that cus you thought i cheated." he shrugged, like he was trying to convince himself instead of you.

your face stayed straight.

erens eyes softened.

"you did." he shook his head, looking towards the wall.

you stayed silent. you didn't have any excuse, because you knew you never tried to hear him out when he told you he wasn't cheating on you.

and you should've fucking listened.

you were and probably still are so naive, as much as you loved eren, you just couldn't hear him out.

and you're the fool for that.

you kept your eyes on eren and he kept his on the wall, thinking.

he thought back to the moment you two first hooked up again, and when he asked you if you cheated, you said yes.

but he didn't ask who.

he was too focused on fucking your brains out to care.

but now...

now that he asked you again, it would be foolish for you to answer the same question and be talking about the same moment.

right?

because if that was only one time,

you wouldn't have had to say it twice.

and if you were referring to armin right now...

eren dragged his eyes over to you, keeping eye contact as he thought about everything. connected the dots. made sense of the whole situation.

eren knows you.

he knows you're not just gonna give your body to some random.

he never thought you'd do it anyways, but especially not to someone random. he didn't blink, it was like he was stuck, his eyes twitching instead of blinking.

you're not just gonna go fuck around with someone you didn't know well, or weren't fond of.

especially not twice.

the dots finally connected, and it was like instead of the lightbulb in his head flicking on, it turned off.

you fucked armin twice.

and not only twice, but a whole month ago.

a month he didnt know about.

and he could only pinpoint when it happened because the two times you'd went to those parties, you and armin would disappear together.

he would've never thought things out like that before– the whole disappearing together thing, but now, he finally realized it.

eren chewed his cheek, staring at you.

slowly looking you up and down, just staring, like a dad silently fussing at their child in a grocery store.

like a friend who'd been betrayed.

like a boyfriend who'd been betrayed.

"why?" he barely muttered.

you blinked, looking away and then back at him. "i thought you cheated. he just came up to me,"

he came up to you.

"and he started telling me things about how he could treat me better,"

oh?

"and i gave in."

oh.

"and the second time? 'm sure thats the first cus that 'treat you better' shit always comes first, don't it?" eren twitched a smile.

you cleared your throat.

"the second time just happened."

just happened?

"what, you miss each other or some shit? cant get enough?" eren grabbed your hand, playing with your ring finger.

you sighed. "ion know what else you want me to say, i told you everything."

you were feeling as shitty as ever, but you disregarded your feelings, because how dare you speak about your feelings when you could've possibly just crushed your boyfriends?

"okay." eren brought your hand up to his lips, kissing it softly and keeping his eyes on yours.

you couldn't tell how he was feeling. he'd make it known if he was pissed about something. he always did.

but right now, you really couldn't tell.

"'m sorry." your voice was low, whispery and hesitant, like you were afraid he'd lash out at just your words.

but no, he just hummed, trailing his hand up your arm and pulling you closer to him.

"its okay." he mumbled, kissing your cheek just before your lips.

and god, you couldn't believe he just accepted your apology like that. like you didn't do something almost every girlfriend wouldn't dare to do.

why?

because eren loves you.

he loves you more than anything and anyone, and he knows you only love him.

yes, he may be blind to the whole thing, he may only be accepting your apology because he knows you genuinely feel bad and he knows he doesn't wanna lose you under any circumstances.

because as much as his friends defended him, the harsh truth is,

eren wouldn't trade you for any of them.

he'd choose you over them in a heartbeat.

and he knows you felt the same way because despite fucking armin twice, cheating on him, you were right back in his arms.

no matter how many times armins kissed you.

touched you.

maybe even told you he loved you, god forbid, he knows you don't love armin.

you only love him.

and thats the only thing he cares about.

but in the back of his mind right now, as he pulled your head to his chest, and stared at the end of the bed, the only thing he could think about was how to kill him.

no, let me rephrase that.

he'd never kill armin.

he was his best friend at one point.

but he was gonna make sure more than just him, you, armin, and most likely mikasa and sasha knew that you'd fucked him.

the same night, you'd told mikasa and sasha about the situation.

and of course, as your friends, they heard you out and supported you– or, eren's decision.

so there it was.

the next day, there was nothing else for you two to talk about.

you were still hesitant on touching him and kissing him, but he pulled you into it all like you hadn't did a single thing to hurt him.

completely disregarded the fact that you cheated.

focused on the fact that his best friend fucked his girl.

and led her on.

and made the first move, so you said.

he texted ony the next day, telling him that everything was fine between you two again and that you could get together and all be friends again.

of course he was lying, because he was planning on cutting armin off right then and there.

so as he pulled up outside of ony's house, you didn't know what to expect.

he opened the door for you, looking around to make sure he wasn't the only late one. and of course, he was.

he knocked on the door, being greeted by ony, and you coming in right behind him.

"aint it bonnie and clyde, damn y'all be stressin a nigga out." ony put a blunt behind his ear as you and eren made your ways to the basement.

"we ain't gon stress you no more, we sorry. ain't that right baby?" eren joked, making ony shake his head and walk down the basement stairs.

you playfully rolled your eyes as he tossed his arm around you.

everyone greet you and him when you walked in.

"finally, aint we say they was gon' be late?" jean stood up, dapping eren up and giving you a side hug.

eren let out a laugh. "we had some business." he exhaled, sitting down. "we good now, though. everybody good? mikasa, sasha, my bad for what happened yesterday." eren raised a palm, his other resting under your thigh as you crossed your legs towards him.

"girl, please. hey y/n." sasha smiled at you and waved eren off, making you chuckle and wave her way.

ony sat down, groaning. "fuck, man. yesterday was a long ass day." he shook his head.

"do ya hear me?" connie put his phone in his pocket and rested his arms behind his head as he looked around the room.

his eyes met yours and he smiled at you, glancing at eren. you smiled back with a shrug.

"how everybody been?" sasha started up a conversation and connie smacked his lips. "you act like we ain't seen each other in months."

"connie, shut the hell up." sashas put her middle finger up.

mikasa hummed. "thats sure what it feel like. ony hand me a blunt." she joked, making the group laugh.

"youn even smoke, stop that." ony gave her a dismissive wave.

eren kicked his feet up on the table as you laughed at the groups sudden bickering. eren kept his eyes on his shoes as he tapped them together.

you looked up at him. "you so childish."

"you like it." he mumbled, nudging your forehead and making you giggle.

as soon as he saw a smile come to your face and a laugh leave your mouth, his eyes flickered to and from armin, who stared boredly at his phone.

"aye, aye, roll up nigga whatchu doin?" ony frowned at connie as he leaned over on the armrest.

connie slowly turned his head towards ony before clicking his tongue. "damn, youn think you smoke too much? fuck."

him and ony went back and forth, making everyone laugh and chime in from time to time. you felt your head moving from eren's laughing, staring down at your phone.

you didn't wanna think about anything else happening in the moment, you were honestly zoned out, erens hand squeezing your thigh, snapping you out of your blank thoughts with every few minutes that passed.

you made sure to keep your eyes on your phone as you kicked off your shoes and tucked your feet underneath you.

"im so happy y'all stopped being toxic." jean shook his head from beside you two.

you smiled and eren laughed, looking over to him. "oh, you aint ever gotta worry bout that no more."

his words comforted you in a way, making you smile to yourself as everyone started to talk about how they wished their relationships were that way, and how easily you and eren got back along.

though, it wasn't the most healthy thing, as said, it was perfect to everyone around you.

eren pulled you closer, causing you to groan a little and push yourself off of him with a laugh. "stop." you smiled. eren smiled back with a slight frown. "why?"

you sighed, shaking your head and leaning back onto eren.

he wrapped his arm back around you firmly, shaking you a little as you closed your eyes.

in the middle of the groups conversation, and feeling the vibrating of erens chest as he spoke every now and then, and being pulled closer as he rocked back and forth to laugh, you were already forgetting about everything that'd happened between the three of you

"hell naw, y'all ever been dogged the fuck out?" ony hit his thigh, leaning up. "man one time i got played so bad, i was ready to up some shit." he swung his arm over to hit connie, who jumped and coughed. "man– what the fuck?"

as everyone laughed at connie and ony's antics, eren smiled, leaning back and rubbing your waist with his thumb.

"aye tho- i got a question." he spoke out, and everyone turned their attention to him.

"eren if its some bullshit, i know sum." sasha scoffed, making herself laugh a little.

eren smiled, biting the nail of his thumb as he did, like he had something mischievous planned. like a bad kid who was planning on breaking something, and knew exactly how to do it.

he shrugged.

"nah, its some real shit." he manspread, taking his thumb from his lips and looking at it.

"which one of y'all in this group fucked my girl?"

your eyes shot open, and you sat up, looking at eren, who only stared at the floor.

"wait, huh?" ony put the weed tray down on the table and looked around. "mikasa?"

"boy!" mikasa tossed a pillow at ony, making him cackle, but he soon stopped when he realized eren was dead serious. i mean, it didnt take much to notice that eren was dead serious anyways.

everyone looked around at each other, and you sat there, slipping your shoes back onto your feet and waiting for the moment where you chose it would be best to just leave.

sasha took a sip from her drink, eyes trailing the room, as if she didnt already know the answer. "y'all is wild..."

eren let out an amused, breathy laugh through his nose, like this whole thing was a joke to him.

"i mean, ian mad or nun. but imma guess, cause i know my girl better than anybody. if she was to fuck somebody else, she wouldn't want em runnin they mouth."

he then pointed at both ony and jean.

"and y'all cant shut up for shit, so for all i know right now, it might not be you." he shook his head, closing his eyes for a second.

"he so messy." mikasa squint, shaking her head and curling up near sasha.

armin shifted in his spot, keeping his eyes on his phone before he put it down and put his hands in his pants pockets with a huff.

everyone still looked around, most eyes on connie and armin.

eren scoffed, softly pushing you off of him to lean up. "damn, was you always this quiet? was you this quiet when you was tryna tell my girl whats best for her?" eren looked directly at armin, who raised his head and looked back.

ony let out a loud gasp, quickly covering his mouth.

jean frowned in confusion, slowly shaking his head. "ain't no way." he shook his head quicker, leaning on the arm rest of the couch.

onys jaw dropped, "i thought it was posed to be a good night, damn." he muttered.

armins lips curled into a small smile and he let out a breathy laugh, throwing his head back. "why would i say something? 's not like i can unfuck the girl."

eren leaned back, scoffing. "ight, so you fucked her, then what? you see who she sittin wit. even after you tried to make her leave me." eren held his arms out.

everyones heads went back and forth from armin to eren the more their tensioning conversation went on.

armin smacked his lips, waving eren off. "fake ass relationship."

you frowned, moving back to get closer to eren.

eren toot his lips up for a second. "its fake? or you just mad she get fucked better over here?" eren sit up, letting you go once more.

"and the funny thing is, you only fucked her once. out of the times you ate her pussy, did whatever the fuck you did, my dick was already there." eren grinned. "you sucked my dick."

everyones eyes widened and ony put his hand over his eyes, shaking his head.

armin let out a small laugh. "thats funny 'cus she came running to me whenever she couldn't get fucked. thought i'd do it a third time and she got shut down." he shrugged, glancing at you as he spoke.

this was so humiliating, honestly.

you squint, pointing at armin. "cause you practically begged me to love you instead of lust you, armin."

eren raised his brows, sitting up again. "oh, so you love my girl." he pointed at himself.

armin went quiet for a minute.

"you knew that before you even got wit her." he mumbled.

"what?" jean squint, looking at eren, and then you.

armin hummed. "i wanted y/n way before eren even came around, and he knew that shit."

"eren..." sasha shook her head, but eren shrugged.

"and?" he frowned, standing up. "you fucked my girl recently and you want me to feel bad bout some shit from two years ago?"

ony stood up right after him and put his hand on his chest, trying to calm him down, but it didnt do anything but fuel the fire, especially when armin stood up.

"you took her from me when i told you i wanted her, dont even do that shit, and connie, bitch, you said you wasn't gon tell shit." armin looked past eren to look at connie.

connie groaned, putting his hands on his eyes and slumping in his chair.

eren looked back at him, going completely silent.

"you knew bout this too?"

connie stood up, "i aint tell shit." he mumbled.

as much as eren wanted to turn his full attention to connie, he just couldn't. because there were so many thoughts rushing through his mind.

his tone was lower when he spoke.

"you a fuckin snake, and i woulda never been this close witchu if i knew this was how you was." he mumbled, looking armin directly in his eyes.

armin didnt respond to that, only mirrored erens actions.

"and then you go behind my back..." eren scoffed, turning away from armin and grabbing your arm, "come on."

armin finally spoke.

"y'know, y/n, i thought we coulda had some serious shit when you told me you loved me."

you froze.

eren stopped in his tracks and let your arm go, looking back at you.

"thats crazy 'cus i thought i was the only one she loved." he spoke as if he was speaking to someone else but his eyes were directly on you.

you quickly shook your head, getting ready to defend your words, but armin spoke before you.

"remember? when i told you i loved you and you said it back?"

you frowned at armin, shaking your head. "you begged me to."

armin poked his bottom lip out, plopping down on the couch.

"so you did." eren stared at you, examining your face.

you sighed, waving your hands and shaking your head. "i didn't mean it when i said it, he made me say it, eren." you then turned your attention to armin and pointed at him. "you know this, you said it yourself that i aint mean what i said, dont sit here and lie, armin."

your brows furrowed as you looked armin in his eyes, but it wasnt like before.

now, there was nothing behind them.

nothing with pure intention anyways.

if there was, it was hidden pretty damn well. because he just gave you a certain look.

a look that said 'i know, but i wont say anything'

and it infuriated you.

you then looked around at the group, all eyes on you.

when you finally laid eyes on eren, his were soft. like he was hoping you were telling the truth. hoping armin was lying about what he said.

you then looked at armin, voice shaky. "you..." you croaked out. "i hate you." you whispered, but the room was so quiet, everyone could hear.

that was it.

you saw it perfectly.

that facade of his, fade.

and as much as you'd hate to care, you were almost ecstatic you didnt.

but that was the least of your worries right now. you needed eren to believe you.

before you could look at him, you were already being dragged away.

"eren." you called out to him, but he didnt say anything. if he wasnt pissed then, you knew for a fact he was now.

all because of armin.

"eren, youn believe him–"

"y/n."

as he opened ony's front door, you followed quickly behind him. you decided to be quiet, taking your name being called as a warning.

you sighed when you got in the car.

eren sat there for a second, one arm rested on the door and his face in his hand. you looked at him, lips parted to say something, but you didn't even know where to start.

what, 'yes i told him i love him but i didnt mean it'?

because thats exactly what happened, but how stupid would that sound?

and you can't just lie like you never said it, because you already confirmed it in the basement.

eren huffed as he start the car, not looking your way for even a second, while your eyes never left him for a second.

you sat back in the seat, looking out of the passenger side window.

you were starting to think car rides just werent for you. every time you get in a car with someone, theres always some kind of awkward tension or quietness lingering.

and of course, it was quiet the whole way there.

it always is.

when he finally turned the car off, he got out before you, and as you watched him walk to the front door, you rolled your eyes, not at his actions, but yours.

you opened the car door, quickly making your way to the front door.

closing it behind you, you locked it and followed eren to your shared bedroom.

you honestly couldnt take any more of the ignoring.

and you were just on good terms with him.

it seemed like nothing with him ever lasted.

"eren." you huffed, sitting down in the bed as he took his hoodie off, completely ignoring you.

"would you just... look at me?" you slumped over a little, slowly giving up on explaining anything to him.

now you understood how he felt.

when you didn't listen to any of his excuses, or try to hear him out about something he supposedly did.

only different was, he actually had proof of you doing the things you did.

you only ever accused him.

"eren–"

"can you-" he took a deep breath. "y/n, be quiet right now, like actually." he finally took a glance at you.

he stood in front of the vanity, scratching in his head for a couple seconds and using his hands to detangle it.

"you wont listen to me." you muttered, and seeing erens face twitch into an annoyed one in the mirror didn't make you feel any better of the situation.

he only lowly hummed, tying his hair into a half up half down.

"ion wanna hear bout it no more, just let it go–"

"no, listen to me." you stood up, grabbing his arm to turn him towards you. he gave you a bored look, shoving his hands on his pockets.

"if you think i meant what i said when i told armin i loved him, i really dont know what else to say. but when i said it, i promise it didn't mean a thing." you explained, but eren only looked you up and down.

your heart sunk.

"eren..." you furrowed your brows, blinking to find some type of explanation. "don't look at me like that."

he kept his face the same way.

that look he gave you.

it was the look of someone who didnt care anymore.

someone who'd lost all hope. he stared down at you like you were a stranger.

"was it better the first time or the second time?" he asked, giving you a half grin.

you shook your head. "it wasnt good at all."

erens brows raised. "for real? you just wanted to fuck em a third time for no reason? what, third times a charm?" he narrowed his eyes at you. "you wanted a baby?"

your eyes widened at his words as he leaned in closer to you, just next to your ear.

he removed his hands from his pockets and wrapped them around your waist, slowly moving them up your back to pull you closer to him.

you barely had any choice but to wrap yours around his neck.

"you believe me, right?" you just barely whispered, almost pleaded while nuzzling your nose in his neck.

eren hummed, and you felt him nod slowly.

your body rested against him, like you'd melted. like you'd been saved from the worst thing.

you felt him lightly push you away from him, just enough to make eye contact with you.

his hand trailed from your back to your waist, and eventually to your jaw as he looked back and forth to and from both of your eyes.

he glanced down at your necklace, and then back at you.

"i believe you."

thank god.

you felt him pull your face closer to his by your jaw, your lips just a breath away from touching.

"i believe you're full of shit." he muttered.

all of a sudden,

with a sharp motion, eren shoved your face away from his, causing you to stumble back into the bedside table.

your eyes were wide, and your heart raced.

eren gave you a look.

a disgusted one.

one he'd never given you before.

"ion give a fuck if you didnt mean what you said," he made his way back over to you.

you tried to step back, but you didnt have anywhere to go.

"you said it cus you wanted him to stay. you wanted something with em." he reached for your necklace, yanking it off of you, causing you to wince and reach for your now, empty neck.

"and take this shit off. it aint mean nothing from the beginning."

he tossed the necklace on the floor, right by your feet.

and when he turned towards the door, you let him leave, because from that point on, you knew you couldn't stop him.

the last thing he mumbled helped you realize that, if nothing else did,

"im done witchu."

#𝐦𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨⁴⁴⁴ #aot x reader #aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #armin aot #armin arlert #armin x black reader #armin x reader #armin x y/n #armin x you #armin arlert x reader #aot armin #armin arlert x you #eren x fem!reader #eren yeager x reader #eren x black reader #eren x reader

280 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 2 months ago

Note

hey, hope you're doing well! i scrolled through your blog for an hour and it feels so safe! i love love your writing! i was wondering if you could write something for reader x sirius?

compared to my family, i get a lot of dreams and most of them are nightmares (especially about death and/or murder). like, sometimes it's lifeless eyes staring at me and blood hardened on the carpet or sometimes it's a dead, rotting body hanging from a tree inches away from my face. and because me and my family don't have that "how did you sleep?" convo most of the time, (and because they don't just don't discuss their dreams) idk who to share this stuff with and it ruins my whole day + makes me uncomfortable and scared to sleep.

sorry, that's long but i was wondering if you could write something with that? like, the reader struggles/deals with that x sirius? no pressure! you can deny it if you want!

thanks★

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

cw: nightmares, semi-vague gore (not real, just mentioned)

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 710 words

The moon is at just the right place in its journey to let its light in through your kitchen window. It casts your home in hues of silvery grey as Sirius’ footsteps pad down the hall. His bleary eyes scan the room, quieting when they settle on you.

“Hi.” Your voice comes out quiet, though neither of you is sleeping anymore. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

Sirius shakes his head. He pulls out the chair next to yours. His movements look heavy, like he dragged himself out of sleep to come find you and he’s still dragging now. “It was just cold,” he mumbles.

Right. So, yes, but indirectly.

“Sorry,” you say again, voice petering off into a shamed whisper.

“Mmph, you should be.” You know Sirius is joking, though he says it grouchily, tetchy in the way he often is after first waking up. He props his elbow on the table and his cheek on his fist. “Thirsty?”

You follow his gaze to the cool glass cupped between your palms. You’ve been drawing squiggles in the condensation, but you’ve not had one sip of it. Your throat feels too tight.

“A little,” you say.

Sirius sighs. It’s a soft sound, but still you look over feeling guilty, only to be surprised when his eyes are warm with affection.

“Why are you out of bed, sweetheart?” he asks gently. “You’ve been gone awhile.”

You feel worse thinking that Sirius had been waiting for you, though really you should have guessed. It would have taken him a while to peel himself out from underneath the covers, dragging his sleep-heavy self all the way into the kitchen. Just to find you.

“Bad dream,” you admit in a murmur.

“Yeah?” he prompts.

“I didn’t want to accidentally fall back asleep.”

Sirius' chair scoots a tiny bit closer to yours. You’re sure he wants to be subtle about it, but that’s impossible when it scrapes loudly against your kitchen floor. A curl of amusement warms your insides. Sirius touches his leg to yours as though it hasn’t happened, an innocent, grounding touch.

“What was it about?” he asks.

You shrug. “Not really anything. There was a lot of gore, mostly. Dead bodies, people's brains spilling out, very…” You swallow. “Very detailed.”

Sirius grimaces. “Sounds messy.”

“It made me feel a little sick,” you murmur, looking back down into your glass. Moonlight wavers on the surface.

“I’m sorry.” Sirius’ knee nudges closer to yours. He sounds, for all the world, like he really means it, and he also sounds a bit helpless. His free hand finds your thigh, thumb drawing back and forth over your skin. “That doesn’t sound like any way to relax at the end of the day, hm?”

You exhale a little laugh. It does some to loosen up the blockage in your throat. “Not really.”

“Think you’ll be able to go back to sleep tonight?”

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

You look at him. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Sirius repeats, steady. Moonlight shines on his face, making his eyes look a paler blue. “We won’t go back to bed.”

“You can go.”

His lips curl. “As if it’s any good without you. No, you won’t get rid of me that easily. I go where you go, doll.”

“I don’t want you to miss out on sleep because of me,” you murmur, remorseful.

“We’ll sleep early tomorrow.” Sirius comforts you with a kiss to your shoulder. His lashes are still drooping with fatigue, but he looks genuinely unperturbed. “Do you want to have a shower?”

You frown. “A shower?”

“Yeah. You know, to get all the gore off.”

You frown deeper.

“The metaphorical gore.” Sirius does a vague waving gesture with his hand. “Don’t get me wrong, you look and smell lovely, just, I thought it might help. We don’t have to.”

“Oh, so we’re both getting in this shower?” you ask, something like a smile tugging at your lips.

Half of Sirius’ mouth quirks up lazily. “Didn’t you hear me? I go where you go.”

“I appreciate your concern,” you say, “but I don’t think I need your help getting off the metaphorical gore. Unless you wanted to join for other reasons.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something by the time we get in there.”

401 notes · View notes

beforetimes · 4 months ago

Text

[continuation of this post]

yuan's transition into qing jing peak is entirely headed by shen jiu and he doesn't care that it looks like favouritism when he brings yuan back months after the official disciple selection day. he brings the child to the peak lord and tells him that he found his brother, thought-dead but thankfully alive, and would he give him a chance to teach him so that they could stay together and not be separated?

which like. i'm sure shen jiu thinks he's being very sneaky for about a moment but i also know that the qing jing peak lord is absolutely aware that this is not entirely altruistic. but they nod and agree and shen jiu starts his slow process of trial by error in teaching yuan.

well, first, at the qing jing peak lord's gently worded suggestion, he gives yuan his last name (the convo went a little like "ah, if this one is your brother, surely you share the same surname?" "...yes. this is shen yuan.")

but after that, the only person who really sees shen yuan on a day-to-day, up close and personal basis is shen jiu, who's taken shen yuan's schooling to be entirely his responsibility. at first its because he needs all the practice he can get in learning to be tolerant of children but after about a year, he realizes that like. he doesn't want these awful teachers on the peak who were so snide to him to get near shen yuan. but thats jumping forward a bit.

shen yuan is a very diligent student. he tries very hard to do everything exactly to shen jiu's liking because he knows the future that is waiting for him if he fails in this endeavour and can't manage to be a cultivator worthy of qing jing peak and shen jiu's disproval is a dangerous thing. he does his best to follow the manual he's given and shadows his 'older brother' in an attempt to pick up some knowledge through osmosis.

shen jiu has barely enough patience for this. every time he sees shen yuan out of the corner of his eyes he can't help but see himself, curled in the corner of an alleyway like a nasty snarling thing. all he sees is desperation that makes him filthy, a will to live thats admirable but irritating, a problem waiting to happen. he looks at shen yuan and sees his mistakes more than anything else because its what he's the best at finding from any prospective disciple.

because he's the only one shen jiu's teaching now, shen yuan bears the brunt of his disapproval and sharp words. slowly getting worn down until everything he does feels like a mistake, he slowly stops progressing, can't get himself to do much.

shen yuan's slipped away on his own time after shen jiu's scolded him for not doing a form properly, feeling the strain on his spiritual energy. he's tired and sore but he knows that he needs to succeed at this—it would just help if he didn't have the worlds worst teacher.

then he hears footsteps behind him and meets yue qingyuan. who is looking at him with wide eyes and immediately asks who he is, what happened, etc. shen yuan answers with the story shen jiu drills him on when they were first on the way back to the sect: he was living with a frail mother who died shortly before shen jiu found him after years of no contact. upon learning the news, shen jiu decided to take him home so he wouldn't be on his own.

yue qingyuan, who knows that shen jiu has no family he has ever known long enough to visit once, let alone over the course of years, knows immediately that this is bullshit, but shen yuan doesn't know that.

either way, he takes this moment to get to know shen yuan. and learns about shen jiu's attempts to learn to teach disciples so he can eventually graduate to the role of head disciple and be next in line to become qing jing's future peak lord. shen yuan gets called away by shen jiu, who doesn't see yue qingyuan talking to the boy while yue qingyuan asks not to mention his name to shen jiu for the time being.

shen yuan agrees, a little awestruck that he's met the future sect leader who seems so kind, and resumes life as normal.

liu qingge is just. an odd outlier. he's the only one who knows the truth of where shen yuan has come from and shen jiu waits and waits and waits for the other foot to drop and nothing happens. he gets frustrated and confronts the man himself just for liu qingge to say he doesn't care where shen yuan came from; on bai zhan peak the only thing that matters is how smart you are. he's never given a fuck about it. shen jiu is—a little surprised. but doesn't show it. just narrows his eyes and threatens and bites before backing away and leaving a fuming but silent liu qingge behind him.

shen yuan and shen jiu eventually get into a rhythm where shen jiu tries to teach shen yuan something and shen yuan, with his knowledge from modern day china with enough experience as a student under much better teachers, starts slowly and slyly offering corrections to shen jiu's way of teaching. which he notices immediately, but shen jiu takes the suggestions in stride either way. shen jiu has convinced himself that shen yuan is trying to get him into the position of head disciple because he wants the protection that the role could bring him through proxy. well, jokes on him, shen jiu thinks. as soon as shen jiu is announced as head disciple he is forgetting about shen yuan entirely because all shen yuan is to him is a tool to make his way up.

shen jiu, after about three years of teaching shen yuan, is announced head disciple. and doesn't immediately abandon shen yuan the way he convinced himself he would three years ago. but he can't find a reason to stay around shen yuan without looking weak and clingy—things he refuses to be, ammo he refuses to give people to manipulate him with—so he starts distancing himself from shen yuan, slowly but surely.

shen yuan, who heard the name shen qingqiu and realized that his brother was the scum villain, feels hopelessness sink into him and concludes that this is just the plot progressing as it normally should, and now there is nothing for him to do but wait for luo binghe to come and kill his brother.

but. and he doesn't know how it happened. he's attached. he loves shen jiu—in the way a dog can love someone who feeds him, a bird loves someone who opens a cage door, a tree can love the spring for breathing new life into it.

shen jiu is mean and abrasive and ambitious. impatient and snappish and doesn't hide these things. he is a schemer and is not afraid to be ruthless to get what he wants. but when shen yuan is scared after waking up from a nightmare, he doesn't say anything when shen yuan kneels by his side late at night, watching him write reports. when shen yuan curls into the space behind shen jiu when a man from another peak comes near on a bad day, shen jiu doesn't push him aside and tell him to stop being weak. when other disciples start pushing shen yuan around, he doesn't stand up for him, but he waits until shen yuan pulls himself up to his feet and brushes dirt off his shoulder before telling him that being strong doesn't mean being kind and letting himself get walked all over for the sake of keeping peace means nothing if he wants to survive. and when shen yuan gets them back, shen jiu turns and leaves to maintain plausible deniability.

which is to say that shen jiu may still be awful, but he's not a villain. and shen yuan doesn't want to see him torn apart.

so comes his new objective, not at all system approved: keep shen jiu alive.

anyway!!! if you have any questions about this au just lmk hahaha i think this is the most i'll write about it on tumblr unless anyone has something really specific they want to know

#svsss #svsss au #svsss fic #svsss headcanon #scum villain #scum villain au #scum villain's self saving system #shen yuan #shen jiu #shen qingqiu #liu qingge #disciple shen jiu #disciple liu qingge #yue qingyuan #shen yuan is shen jiu's brother #shen brothers

444 notes · View notes

honeyhotteoks · 6 months ago

Text

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

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

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

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

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 28.1k

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

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

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

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

He feels your ache though, and you feel his.

Besides, it’s almost, almost over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone nods.

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

Everyone nods again.

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

There’s a chorus of responses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone echoes back their understanding.

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

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

Your chest warms, and so does his.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wooyoung grumbles something and Yunho chuckles.

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

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

For a moment, Yunho doesn’t move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach sinks like a stone.

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

“Iseul,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Iseul,” You wrap your arms around yourself.

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

You stay silent, stomach tight.

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

You blanch.

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

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

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

Your eyes flick down to the pavement.

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

Your head snaps up.

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

”Iseul,” Your voice comes out weakly.��

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She rubs your back as you sigh.

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

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

“I guess,”

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

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

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

You smile, “Yeah?”

“Totally,” She nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not yet,”

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

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

“We nearly did,”

“And?” She takes a drag.

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

She nods, “He seems like that type,”

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

“You and relationships,”

“This is different,” You cross your arms.

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

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

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

All you can do is nod.

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

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

You laugh, “Got it.”

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

Your stomach twists, “Fuck,”

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

“Okay, you’re right” You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Iseul keeps you busy, keeps you steady.

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

everything alright?

you seem tense, did something happen during the show?

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

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

let me know you get to your room safely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ouch,” You grimace at her words.

“Am I wrong?”

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

“Call him,” She interrupts your thoughts again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yunho?” She says, “It’s Iseul,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Iseul!”

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

His reply is short and she laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A smile tugs at your lips, “You are?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t be long, I’m sure,”

She shrugs, “Be safe,”

“I will,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love to,” You murmur.

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

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

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

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

“Me too,”

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

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

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

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

“Late night, like this?” You ask.

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

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

“Where else have you always wanted to go?”

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

“I’d love to take you there someday,”

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” You breathe.

“Wait for it,” He murmurs.

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

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

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

“Yunho,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, “One minute,”

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

Your heartbeat quickens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, a little crease between his brows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile, finding your phone and dialing him.

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

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

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

Butterflies roll through you, “Oh, yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your body melts at the message.

Are you hurt, jagiya?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight? You can’t help yourself.

Where?

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

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

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

I won’t - He replies instantly.

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

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

“You don’t mind?” You ask.

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

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

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

Aren’t you tired too? - You ask him.

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

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

I will - He says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Warmth fills you, “For how many days?”

“Three,” He grins.

“Me too,”

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

”None,” You murmur, “sleeping,”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,”

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

“Really?” Your hand tightens on his.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,”

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

Your hearts feel like they’re in sync.

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, “I know,”

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

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

He smiles, “In a bit,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure,” He nods, “Beer?”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a great place,” He says again.

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

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

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

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

You grimace, “That’s terrible,”

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

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

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

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

“And?” He asks.

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

“And then you came to KQ?”

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

“I’m glad she did,” He smiles warmly.

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

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

“A little bit of fate,” You smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cock your head, asking him a silent question.

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

“Dull?” You offer.

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

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

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

“Me too,” You confess.

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

“Yun?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Your stomach flutters with butterflies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, breathless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Distracting you from what?”

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

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

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

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

He nods, “I know, let me explain,”

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, sorry, go on,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,”

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

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

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

He smiles.

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

He swallows hard.

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

He nods, “And,”

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

His shoulders relax under your touch, “Good,”

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

“I thought so,” He murmurs appreciatively.

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

He nods.

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Us,” You smile, “I said I want us,”

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

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

He groans, “Let’s go to bed,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He eases you to your own step.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He groans, “You’re perfect,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

Your stomach flips pleasantly.

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

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

Yunho groans, his hands wandering.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He huffs a laugh, “Yeah?”

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

“Patience,” He nips at your lip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums pleasantly, and then kisses your mark.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A needy sound stutters from your throat.

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

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

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

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

Moaning, you grip down on his shoulder.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yes, god,” You grip the sheets.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“H-hi,” You sigh.

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

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

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

You melt into his touch, cheek to chest.

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

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

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

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

“I am,” He squeezes you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Completely,”

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

“Mine,” He breathes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod.

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

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

He groans, “Again,”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Yunho,” You part your thighs.

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

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

“Needy,” He murmurs.

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

He smirks, “Yeah?”

“You’re tall,” You start.

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

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

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

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

He swallows tightly and smiles, “Am I?”

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,”

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your cunt clenches in response and he chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me,” He says.

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

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

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

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

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

“Come for me, baby,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” He asks breathlessly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#honeyhotteoks fic #honeyhotteoks updates #ateez fic #ateez ff #yunho ff #yunho #jeong yunho #yunho fic #yunho smut #yunho x reader

546 notes · View notes