#and its been whats been going on in my head since basically i started truly analyzing the series

[salthusiast]

Who you truly are

Viltrumite Mark x Female Reader

Summary: When the Invincible variants arrived on Earth, you never expected to get involved. It’s not like you knew Invincible personally. What you didn’t know was that you’d ended up housing one of these variants, and you didn’t know for weeks. Basically Viltrumite Mark pretends to be the Mark you know.

Word Count: 5.1k

Next parts: 2 , 3

Warnings: None! Maybe some violence, but if you watched the show, it’s basically nothing. Maybe slight ooc? In my defense this guy is pretending to be another person though.

Quick A/N: Hey, this is actually my first post on Tumblr so sorry if the formatting is weird or anything. Let me know if you guys want a part 2 :D

Life was so much simpler when you didn’t know. Who knew that in a singular month, your life would change so much? You could lie and say that you expected it to happen, but again that'd be a lie. Hell, even now you can barely believe the course of events that went down.

Sometimes you think about how many others got hurt during the war and its aftermath. You were so oblivious. You think about how he spared you like he did.

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

“Mark! Eve!” You call out, waving your hand to your friends across the hallway. Mark stops in his tracks, along with Eve.

Mark is more of your friend than Eve is, but you get along with her well. You walk purposefully to Mark, feeling like he may disappear if you take too long to get to him. It seems like he disappears all the time now.

“I haven’t seen you recently. Where have you been?” You approach him smiling.

Mark shares an indecipherable look with Eve, and chuckles awkwardly, “Around… You know, I’ve been busy with… stuff.” He says gesturing to his backpack. You raise an eyebrow seeing his backpack filled with books. 

“Studying? You? My, we really haven’t talked in a while. The last time we all hung out, you bailed halfway through.” You smile teasingly, not truly mad, but more concerned than anything.

He grimaces, “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just been so hectic lately.” He looks over at Eve once again, she seems to empathize with whatever Mark is going through. You can’t help but feel… insignificant.

Mark was once one of your closest friends. What happened for them to grow so close? You can’t even bring yourself to be mad, Eve seems to understand him way more than you ever could.

Perhaps at one point, you would have felt different about that truth, but Mark as your friend is more important.

“Woah!” You chuckle, “It’s okay, really. I just want to make sure you aren’t, ya know, dead.” You smile, jokingly gesturing to your neck as if it was slit. He smiles and shakes his head, “Nope! Still kicking. I’ll be around for a while.” He glances at Eve, who seems to find what he said extra funny.

You laugh, “Yeah huh... Hey, I was wondering if you’d wanna hang out with us sometime soon. You, William, me, maybe one of my friends? Serena perhaps?” You raise a finger for each person you talk about. “Eve is free to join us too of course.” You smile at her, which she returns in good nature. 

Mark nods, “Yeah, I’ll make time for it. It’s been a minute since we’ve all hung out. Eve, would you wanna join?” Mark asks, turning to Eve.

“Sure. It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out as a group. I look forward to it.” She smiles at you. “I should be busy for a bit, but I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

You smile, “Great! That works for me!” You start to walk off before you stop abruptly and turn around. “You know we’re always here right?” You look at Mark and glance at Eve. He smiles back, but it looks more like a grimace. 

”Of course.” Suddenly he stands up straight. “Oh shoot I gotta go.” He announces before looking at Eve silently expressing… something? 

“No worries, see you guys…” They’re already speeding off to who knows where. They certainly have a mission in mind. They weren’t that rushed five minutes ago. Could whatever Mark forgot be that important?

(You didn’t know it at the time, but the reason he left was actually important. You later found out the reason on TV, even if you weren't aware it was him under the suit.)

“Hey, did you see what happened on the news?” Your friend, Serena, asks you later that day back in your apartment. She would often come over after classes to hang out.

You raise an eyebrow shaking your head, “No? Why? Anything interesting?” You sit down on the couch, leaning your head on the back as you respond.

“Somebody was trying to get Invincible’s attention earlier. He was talking for ages. Was claiming that he was the one who killed all those people in Chicago. I don’t know, he definitely has some issues he needs to sort out.” She waves a hand dismissively. 

That catches your attention, “Really that happened today? How’d I miss that? Wait, he was mad that Invincible ‘killed those people,’ but he is trying to kill people to get his attention?” You ask, doing air quotes as you say “killed those people.” 

“I’m not sure, it mainly just seemed like he wanted Invincible. I don’t know, I stopped questioning these villains a while ago. I only know the bare details.” She sighs.

You nod in agreement, “Fair enough.” You search for the remote and find it between the couch before turning on the TV. Perhaps this story is on the news?  

“ . . . just in! The newest villain, going by the name “Powerplex” has been arrested. Invincible was there to stop him this time, but that did not come without a cost. There were two casualties during this specific attack by him, not even counting his other attacks during this week. The casualties of this attack were his wife and child, who were electrocuted to death. It appears he took them hostage to get Invincible’s attention. You will all be happy to know that he has been arrested. . .” 

“That’s awful.” You frown. “Can’t believe he brought his wife and kids into it. That’s such a cruel thing to do… You think she knew what she was getting into with him?” You ask, turning toward Serena. 

“I mean maybe he was just a good actor? Perhaps he was able to blend in for a while?” Your friend throws out suggestions. “She could’ve also known though. Not that it’s my business. We’ll never know, and I don’t think I want to know.” She sighs before standing up.

“It’s horrific in either scenario. Imagine living with somebody for that long and not truly knowing who they are.” Serena chuckles, but there is no humor. You both stare at the TV screen, watching as the reporter drones on about the details.

“I think I’m going to head back home.” Serena stands up, grabbing her keys and swinging them in her hand. You nod, “Okay, drive home safe… Don’t get electrocuted.” You give her a thumbs up and smile. Is it wrong to joke about events like this? Probably, but if you don’t laugh you cry so…

She gives you an unamused expression “Ha. Ha. Very funny.” She rolls her eyes good-naturedly,  “I’ll see you later.” You wave as she walks out, turning your attention back to the TV. 

You have no connection to Invincible or any of that “superhero” life. The idea of superheroes excites you, but after seeing what occurred in Chicago, you can’t help but feel like it’s not all it’s made out to be.

It’s not like you’d be able to help. You’d end up as a casualty, another body to clean off the field. The thought makes you shiver.

Every time you see a story like this you wonder if there is a universe where it was you that died. It’s easy to just brush these events off like nothing when you aren’t living them.

That was how most people do it nowadays. Doesn’t affect you? Not your problem. It was a frustrating way to live. You didn’t like to think about how people are dying every day due to these villains.

However, you can’t not think about them. Hearing about this whole situation with, what’s his name, Powerplex? It creates this feeling of dread, a feeling you’re unable to ease. Who is to say that you aren’t going to be the next casualty mentioned on the news?

It truly was easy for the whole world to live in that ignorance. It was easier for you to live in ignorance, then they appeared.

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

DAY ONE

Honestly, the first day wasn’t that eventful for you. It wasn’t until the late evening you even heard about it.

You didn’t live in an area that was immediately affected by the attacks, so it wasn’t as if your apartment suddenly came crashing down on you. Instead, you got a call from Serena. You raise an eyebrow before picking up the phone. 

“Uh hey?” You wonder why she called you, it wasn’t like you got calls often.

”Oh my God, you’re okay.” She breathes out in relief, and now you know something is up. “Please tell me you’ve seen the news.” Her voice is filled with worry.

You stop moving, “No… You know I don’t check the news that often.” You respond. Admittedly, that's on you. You probably should keep up with the news more often.  

She sighs, “Turn it on. There’s like over a dozen Invincibles out destroying major world cities.” You feel your heart drop before immediately moving to your TV and turning it on. You switch to the news.

No words are being spoken, they don’t have to. The screams of panic strike fear into your heart.

The camera shows a gigantic building in Chicago crumbling down. The cameraman focuses their lens on the figure floating above it all. Whoever it is, they’re wearing a white uniform.

The camera isn’t advanced enough to zoom in on their face, but you don’t find yourself doubting Serena’s information. Suddenly a white blur knocks the camera away, and it fades into static. You watch in horror. 

“Oh shit…” You whisper to yourself, forgetting that you are still on the phone. 

“It’s being recommended that we don’t exit our homes. We just pretend like nobody is home.” Serena’s words barely register, but you nod, forgetting that she can’t see your visual response.

“Okay… So we just sit here until they leave?” You ask, feeling stupid for asking the question. What else could you do? Fight them? You’d sooner kill a bear with your bare hands than somehow survive facing off one of them. 

The silence between you two is loud, “Not like we have any other choice.”

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

DAY TWO

By this point, you had been living in relative darkness for a little over a day. Serena sent you a link to an article advising citizens what to do: keep the lights off, and stay away from windows. You don’t want them to know you’re there. You had occasionally gone to get some food and drinks from the kitchen, but besides that, you were pretty much locked in your room.

The small peeks you took of the outside world showed promise. Realistically, the chances of one of the variants coming to your suburban neighborhood to wreak havoc aren’t high.

You close the curtains and look away from the window. To be fair, they also aren’t zero.

After being bored and doing nothing for over a day, you were instantly aware when something changed in your environment. You felt your heart stop for a moment. It sounded like somebody entered your apartment. 

You remain frozen as you try and listen for any more signs of life outside your room. Eventually, you hear something. A voice calling your name, whoever it is sounds familiar. However, that doesn’t mean you’ll come running out. You don’t respond immediately, sitting there in silence and fear, slowly inching towards the closet to hide.

On the way, you pass by your door, which was slightly cracked open. The intruder could walk in whenever they wanted. It wasn’t the most brilliant move you’ve made, but it wasn’t like you were expecting guests okay?

Your eyes widen as you take in who it is. “Mark?” You push the door open hesitantly. His attention immediately snaps to you. “What are you doing here?” You ask, exhaling slowly and calming your pounding heartbeat. 

He stares at you stoically, before walking over to you, his steps are unhurried. Suddenly you realize that he left the door open behind him. You feel your heart rate spike up again. 

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!?” You whisper yell as you push past him to the door. You accidentally bump your shoulder onto his while walking by, causing him to halt and falter in surprise.

”How did you get in? I thought you said you lost that emergency key I gave you.” You lock the door and turn to him again. He observes you silently.

“I found it.” He responds, tone even. 

“Well yes, I kinda assumed that.” You respond dryly before feeling the anger leave your body.

“Hey…” You place your hand on his shoulder and he stiffens. “Are you okay? Did one of those variants attack you or your mom?” He finally looks you in the eye for the first time since he unexpectedly entered. His stare is piercing, it feels like he’s looking at your entire soul. 

He pauses for a moment before answering, “They came through and destroyed my house.” His voice sounds detached like he’s somewhere else right now.

You feel your eyes widen and your heart drops, “Oh my God, is your mom okay?!” You guide Mark back to your room, he seems to follow with no resistance. You sit on the floor, but he remains standing.

“She’s fine. She wasn’t there.” He responds, and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“That’s good… I mean not good that your house was destroyed, but good that she got out of there. I mean have you seen the damage that these Invincibles have done?” Mark looks at you like he’s expecting something, and you feel slightly unnerved. Maybe he’s in shock? You can’t exactly blame him. You do feel kinda awkward though. How exactly do you comfort somebody who just had their home destroyed and almost had their mom killed?

“I was watching the news when it started, there was this one I saw. I think it was Chicago he hit?” Mark freezes slightly, his eyes narrowing in on you, but you don’t notice.

“It was crazy… He didn’t look like Invincible at all. However, judging by how many of the other attackers look like Invincible, I want to say that this one was probably some weird Invincible variant in white.” Mark gives you a weird look.

“What’s wrong? Still worried? Don’t worry we should be safe here. I don’t see why an Invincible variant would attack me. I don’t even know who is under that mask. We’ll be safe here if you wanna stay until it’s over.” You feel like you’re talking too much at this point, so you stop before you embarrass yourself more than you already have. 

“So I can stay.” Mark eventually speaks, getting your attention. The phrase is less of a question, and more of a statement, like he needs you to reaffirm what you already said.

You nod, “Of course, stay as long as you need.” You smile at him. Mark stares down at you before nodding and sitting right next to you on the floor. 

You raise an eyebrow, “You know you can sit on my bed right? You don’t have to sit on the floor.” He looks at you and slowly nods. 

“Right…” He sounds hesitant, but eventually stands up walking over to your bed. He sits down on it and looks back at you. He stares at you expectantly. You feel scrutinized under his gaze.

"Uh, is there something on my face?" You ask. He continues to stare at you before he looks away.

"You look different." Well okay then. Is that an insult or compliment?

“Uhh, I don’t exactly look much different than the last time I saw you. Maybe it’s the lack of sunlight.” You joke. He looks at you like you’re stupid. “Hey don’t give me that. Come on wanna play a game or something? I’ve been bored out of my mind here.”  You stand up stretching.

“A game…” He repeats dryly. “What ‘game’ would you wanna play?” He asks.

You hold your hand out giving him the “wait” gesture. He watches as you search around your room before finally finding what you're looking for. “Here we go!” You show him your deck of Uno cards. 

“Uno?” Mark responds confused. “You want to play this... ‘Uno?’” He gestures to the cards. You raise an eyebrow looking back at the cards.

”Yes…? Something wrong with that? I only have the original one if that’s what you’re upset about. Couldn’t find the Seance Dog version, I must've lost it.” You sit next to him starting to shuffle the cards.

”That’s not the problem…” Mark starts to sound unsure looking at the deck of cards. ”Do you perhaps have its original packaging?” He asks. 

You blink in confusion, “No, why?” You start giving him his cards.

”I just need to see its instructions.” He looks at the cards blankly.

You sigh, “No, stacking plus twos and plus fours is not in the rules. Yes, we will play with it anyway.”

You give yourself your cards before setting the giant stack down and flipping over the first card, it’s a green four. “I’ll go first.” You place a green seven down.

Mark stares at the cards, before looking up at you. He stares at his cards for half a minute. “You gonna play a card or are we just gonna sit here?” You joke. 

“Just…” He sounds frustrated, “Just give me a moment…” He looks at the cards. 

After another period of silence, you eventually break it, “Dude just place down a seven or green, please. Whatever strategy you’re thinking of, it clearly isn’t working.” You chuckle.

He looks at his cards before slowly placing a green five down. “Right… I was just planning something.” 

You immediately slam down a blue five. “Yeah sure, try all you want. You aren’t gonna win this time.”

He looks at you with the most serious look you’ve ever seen on his face, “I wouldn’t count on that.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“HOW?! YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” You point at the stack of cards in the middle, telling you to take 14 cards. 

“The rules are the rules. Take the cards.” Mark points to the deck of cards, his lips upturned slightly. 

You glare at him before smiling. That was the first time he’s "smiled" today. He’d been off all day, and if losing a game of Uno was what it took to cheer him up, it was a price to pay.

You both play a few more rounds before you get tired of losing. “Okay, you never win this much. Are you cheating?” You jokingly ask.

He scoffs, “Cheating? I don’t need to cheat to win.” He taunts holding his singular card in plain view. The words "UNO" in the back taunt you for the seventh time. The trace of a smile is gone from his face, but you can see the mirth in his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy it while you can.” You sigh placing down your only play. You look up at him, and he stares at you for a long moment.

“You know dramatically holding out your move doesn’t make you mysterious. Just draw more cards, I know you don’t have a yellow or two.” You roll your eyes. 

He looks at his card and sighs in the most contrived manner possible, a stark contrast to the serious demeanor he had when entering the apartment. “You’re right. I don’t have either…” He places his last card down, a wild.

You look at him blankly, he returns the stare with a smugness he didn’t previously have. You place your cards down before walking out into the kitchen, Mark follows you. “What are you doing?” He asks, the smug tone gone. 

“I'm gonna sacrifice myself to those variants running around, that fate might be better than having a seven-time losing streak.” You respond sarcastically.

“You know what,” You point out to the window, “at least I would beat them in Uno.” You say referring to the Invincibles out destroying the world.

Mark looks at you, then at the window, then back at you, “I doubt that.” 

You lean back on the counter dramatically, feigning offense, “Oh how you wound me! I think I could beat their asses in Uno! I bet at least one of them doesn’t even know how to play it!” 

“I’m sure.” He replies, there seems to be amusement in his voice, but you can’t imagine why. 

“Hey, I beat you in Uno all the time. Consider this your lucky day.” You grab a bag of chips. “I was going easy on you today.” You say before you begin grabbing chips out of the bag. “Want some?”

Mark looks at the bag, his face turning to a grimace, “I’ll… pass.” You shrug and continue snacking before putting the bag away.

”Suit yourself. Feel free to eat whatever I have, just don’t eat it all.” You gesture toward your pantry, his gaze following the direction you point. 

You start to walk away, “Where are you going?” He asks as you pause.

”Pillows? Blankets? I need to grab some extra for myself. You can take my bed.” You look into one of your cabinets, grabbing an extra couple of pillows and a blanket. 

“Is it not your bed though?” Mark asks, frowning.

”Well, yeah, but you’re my friend and my guest.” You smile walking towards your room, and he follows behind you. “I mean with everything you’ve been through recently, I’d feel bad if I forced you to the floor.” Mark remains silent.

You start to create a pile of blankets on the floor, rearranging the pillows how you like them. Mark watches silently. 

“Hey, could you turn my TV on? Make sure it’s muted. As long as the lights aren’t flashing too bright on it I think we’ll be okay.” You ask Mark, he gives a hum of acknowledgment before heading back to the living room.

You finish setting up the makeshift bed before joining him. You look around making sure all the windows are closed and secure before joining him. 

“Oh my God…” You whisper as you watch different clips play out on the TV. These Invincible are destroying cities. You can only stare in shock, you watch as buildings topple over, skyscrapers crumble to the ground, citizens get buried under rubble, and nearby life burns.

What you saw that Invincible in Chicago do was a fraction of the damage.

Mark doesn’t say anything, and the initial glance you took towards him when you walked in reflects that indecipherable look once again. Who knows what he’s thinking? These monsters almost killed his family.

You look over to him to see if he’s watching, his gaze looks detached and uninterested. You turn back toward the TV. “I’m sorry…” You mutter, feeling his eyes turn toward the back of your head.

“For what?” He asks, and he sounds genuinely confused. “You didn’t do it.”

You look back at him, his eyes reflecting disbelief at an apology. “No, but I’m sorry it happened to you.” You look at the screen, showing the burning buildings. It feels like you can hear their screams despite the muted volume. 

He looks at you, not that you can see, as if you're a puzzle. “Why apologize for something you didn’t do? Seems pointless.” He asks.

You look at him, your eyes meeting again, “Sympathy, perhaps.”

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

DAY THREE

You open your eyes to the blinding light of your window. You blink the sleepiness away before processing that your window is OPEN.

You stand up quickly, tripping over your pillow before you reach to close the window and curtains. You look at your empty bed, perfectly made. 

”Mark?” You call out. You open your door to see him in the kitchen with a mug in hand, windows all open, and lights bright as day.

You gape for a minute before walking over and closing all of them. Once you close them, you turn off the lights, you can still see, but you will admit you kind of missed lighting like that. “What are you doing?!”

Mark looks at you, raising an eyebrow.

You gesture wildly to the house around you, “Uhh I don’t wanna burst your bubble, but we are not Invincible. What are you gonna do if one of those variants attacks us? The attack on your house proves that nobody is safe.”

Mark looks at you uninterested, “Nobody will attack this place.”

”You can’t guarantee that, Mark.” You respond exasperated. “If you could, you wouldn’t be here right now.” You frown as Mark stares at you stoically.

“Look, I’m sorry. I really don’t want to take this out on you, but it’s scary out there. I don’t want to be this paranoid, trust me, but I can never be too sure what will happen.” You sigh looking at him.

“Hell I mean, one of those Invincibles could kick that door down, and we’d be toast. I mean how many even are there?” You ramble.

“Sixteen total.” 

“Sixteen?! Damn.” You exhale in disbelief. “That’s sixteen different Invincibles who could essentially destroy the world. Wait, how’d you even know there are sixteen?” You ask.

Mark gestures lazily toward the TV. “Righttttt, that was a dumb question.” You sigh. Suddenly you pause that train of thought, “Wait, what happened to Eve?”

Mark takes a slow sip of his coffee, “Not sure.”

You frown in concern, “Have you had contact with anybody since they invaded?”

”Just you.” He takes another sip.

”Damn, that’s sad… Do we want to try and contact her?” You ask hesitantly. It doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about Eve.

He shrugs, “Lost my phone.”

You frown, “Oh… Do you wanna. . .” You look up at him, his eyes dead set on you. “You know what, never mind.” You make a mental note to check if you have Eve’s number later, and maybe ask what his whole attitude is about.

“Anyway, were you up long before I got up?” You ask, changing the subject. 

He shakes his head, “No.” He responds. 

“Okay good, I was worried I had slept in or something.” You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You pull it out and see that Serena sent you a new link, you’re so grateful that she keeps up with news better than you can.

”Hey it seems like the variants disappeared from the cities.” You casually mention, Mark looks up, suddenly interested. 

“Where did they go?” He asks. You shrug in response, reading the rest of the article. He walks over to try and read over your shoulder.

“It seems like they all left at roughly the same time, perhaps something called them. Maybe they have a ‘Boss Invincible’ or something.” You joke.

Mark chuckles humorlessly, “You think?”

“You don’t think that?” You retort, smiling.

“No, I mean you’re probably right.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “It just sounds strange.” He continues.

You nod understanding, “Yeah, but I mean what else could bring them together? They have to have a leader of some kind. This attack seems too coordinated to just be unplanned.” 

Mark sips his coffee loudly, “I guess.” It sounds like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. 

You feel your phone vibrate again. You check it and see a text from William. “Hey, William texted me! You’ll be glad to hear that he is okay.” You hear Mark hum in acknowledgment before opening the message. 

It’s safe. They’re gone for good.

You look at the text message surprised. You have multiple questions.

 

How do you know?

Just trust me on this, I know some people who work with the government. The Invincibles are gone. 

Mark notices your silence, “What is it?” He asks.

You turn towards him, “They’re gone gone. The Invincibles apparently vanished, completely. They didn’t just stop attacking the cities or get called away, they aren’t here anymore. They’re gone for good. ” This catches his attention. 

“Are you serious?” He asks. His eyebrows furrow, is he mad?

”...Yeah.” You pause before confirming. “Are you okay?” You walk up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He immediately tenses up.

“Hey, they’re gone. They can’t do any more damage. Everything will be okay.” You try to reassure him.

He looks down before relaxing. “They’re gone.” He repeats, you nod. “All of them?” He asks quietly, you nod. 

“All of them.”

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

“What do you mean they’re not all accounted for?” Cecil yells out walking down the hallway as one of the assistants follows closely.

“You mean to tell me that there is still one of those Marks out there?”

The assistant nods frantically, “We accounted for every single one that died, and the ones that were sent to that alternate dimension. There is still one here, and he’s not our Mark.”

Cecil stops walking, “Does Mark know?” He asks.

The assistant shakes their head, “No… We weren’t sure if we should tell him. I thought it was best to tell you first.”

Cecil nods in approval, “I’m glad you did… Do you know where he was last seen?”

“It was the Invincible that destroyed Chicago, he left after decimating that city. We aren’t entirely sure where he went. He could be on the other side of the globe, but we do know he hasn’t left the atmosphere.” The assistant replies.

"Good, we need to see if there’s a way to locate him. For all we know, he’s already aware that his counterparts have been banished. I can’t imagine he’d serve himself up on a silver platter for us to eliminate." Cecil starts walking towards Eve’s room, there’s a large chance Mark is still there. 

“He can’t hide for long, sir. We’ll find him.” The assistant follows closely behind him.

"Like you already said, he could be halfway across the globe. We can’t leave a threat like that lying around ready to strike whenever. We need whatever leverage we can get right now. If we make it public information that he’s wanted, he might just leave the planet."

"I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly feel safe knowing an evil version of Invincible is out there somewhere in the universe. We were unprepared for this attack, next time we’ll be ready." Cecil walks down the hall watching through the windows as more ReAnimen are being created. He continues to walk past them.

“There’s only one of him. We’ll bide our time. Keep me updated on any status updates on him. If you hear anything that sounds like Viltrumite sightings, I need to know as soon as possible. I will spare no expense, understand?”

”Yes, sir.”

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - one (j.yh)

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

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

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

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 17.9k

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

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

“Fuck,” You breathe, “hey,” 

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

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

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

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I guess.” 

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

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

“Thank you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” He checks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?” He tilts his face up to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” He hums and stays relaxed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” He laughs, “of course, yeah,” 

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

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

The tattoo on your chest feels warm beneath your blouse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s yours. 

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

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

“You didn’t?” His hand falls. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head, “No,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A soulmate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His shoulders relax just a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” You assure him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good,” You nod, “don’t worry,” 

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

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

“Am I good?” Yunho checks. 

Your eyes flick over him fast, “Yep,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He really is yours. 

It turns out that later means much later. 

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

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

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

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

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

A soft knock at the door makes your stomach lurch. 

You’re frozen. 

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

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

“I waited,” You manage. 

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

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

He nods, “Come to my room?” 

“Are you sure?” Your eyes widen. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the heavy door shuts behind you, you sigh. 

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

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

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

“It feels pretty real,” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You what?” Your eyebrows raise. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Completely,” He nods, “did yours?” 

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

“Does it feel,” He starts.

“Warm?” 

“Yes,” He nods, “and tender?” 

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

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

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

“You want to see it?” He surmises. 

“Only if you’re comfortable,” 

His lips quirk, “I’m comfortable,”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

He shakes his head, “Not before today,” 

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

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

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

“You feel that?” He asks, “Right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it always feel like that?” 

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

He smiles, “Your sister found her soulmate?” 

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

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

“Younger,” You say.  

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

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

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

Your heart quickens and you nod. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Your voice is thready. 

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

“Yes,” You agree, painfully quickly. 

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

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

You wonder what more will feel like. 

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

You nod. 

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

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

“You can feel that?” 

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

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

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

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

“Feel alright?” He murmurs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He feels so right, so essential under your touch. 

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

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

“Yunho,” You shiver. 

“Cold?” He gravitates a little closer. 

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

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

His lips are on yours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to slow down,” He manages. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Overwhelming,” You nod, exhaling softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You straighten up again, finding his eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your tight hands uncurl. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s yours. 

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

“This is real,” You murmur. 

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

“You’re mine,” 

“Yes,” He grins. 

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

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

“Together,” You nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is nice,” You smile. 

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

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

“It is,”

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

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

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

 “I had no idea,” 

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” You perk up, “Who?” 

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

You sigh, letting his softness calm you again. 

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

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

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

That wakes you up. 

Your eyebrows raise, “Stay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With me?” His eyebrows raise. 

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

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

“It is what it is,” 

“Are your parents soulmates?” He asks softly. 

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

You watch his eyes widen in surprise. 

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

“For status?” He surmises. 

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

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

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

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

“It could,” 

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

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

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

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

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

Your smile at his warm expression. 

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

Your throat constricts, tears threatening for a moment. 

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

“Very,”

“I’d like to meet her,” He smiles. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

“She’s funny,” He smirks. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Your eyes feel heavy. 

“Yeah,” He kisses your forehead. 

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

“Mhm,” He yawns too, “me too, jagi,” 

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

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

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

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

Nuzzled against his tattoo, you drift.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Naive is what it is,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long?” Seonghwa manages. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Yunho laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mouth feels dry. 

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

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

You both wait. 

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

Yunho nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” Yunho curses. 

You both slept straight through Yunho’s alarm. 

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

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

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

Did you already get up and get ready?

Your work bag is still here…

Not funny, girl, where are you?

Did you make it back last night? 

Can you answer me?? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seonghwa huffs a laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With some guy?” She stands. 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” You say again. 

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

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

“Iseul,” Your cheeks heat. 

She points at you, “I’m right!” 

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

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

“I can’t,” You press, “leave it,” 

“Why are you being so weird?” 

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

“I’m not letting this go,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” 

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

“Fine,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You miss him. 

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

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

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

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

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

So you’re as awake as I am? 

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

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

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

Nope - You tease back. 

Was she upset? - He asks. 

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

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

How was Seonghwa? - You tap out. 

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

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

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

That’s good - You send back. 

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

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

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

Why’s that? - You tease him. 

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

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

So who did she guess? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exactly - You reply. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your thighs press together - Yunho?

Yes, jagi?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you have headphones? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want me? - You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

I was tossing and turning. 

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

You send him another emoji, the blushing face. 

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

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

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

Wearing? 

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

I asked you first.

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

A heavy sigh passes through your lips. 

“And you?” 

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

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

Me too 

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

Me either - You confess. 

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

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

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

You message him one last thought - What about you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” You murmur in a whisper. 

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

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

“Under your panties too,” He says, his voice a little husky. 

“Mhm,” You murmur again, following his words. 

“Tease a little for me,” He instructs you, “not too fast, just your fingertips on the outside,” 

You breathe low and slow, gently passing the pads of your fingers over your slit, just barely ghosting against the hard nub of your clit. 

“I bet you look so pretty right now,” He groans a little and you hear the sound of sheets, “you make the cutest faces when you’re feeling good,” 

You make the tiniest noise of acknowledgement, fingers still brushing your cunt. 

“Can’t wait to see you fall apart for real,” He confesses, a strain in his tone as he sighs, and you picture him. His long legs spread wide in the bed, stretching from corner to corner, his boxer briefs pushed down and his hand fisting his cock. 

You’re going to lose it when you finally get to touch him again. 

“You can touch now,” He murmurs, getting your attention back, “are you wet?” 

You push your fingers through your folds and sigh when you feel just how slick and swollen you are. With your other hand you find the phone nearby and tap out a quick message - So wet

“That’s good, that’s so good,” 

Your fingers start to circle on your oversensitive nub and there’s no way he won’t have you coming in five minutes or less with it feeling this good and his heavy breath in your ear. 

“R-rub your clit for me,” He pants and your eyes roll, you can hear the sounds of the sheets rhythmically swishing as he pumps his cock harder, “get your fingers nice and wet,” 

You whimper into the pillow, biting down hard on your cheek to keep yourself in check. 

“Oh, fuck,” He groans, “sound so pretty,” 

You rub harder, faster, your legs stretching wide under the downy comforter to give you better access. 

“Baby,” He gets your attention with that, “push two fingers inside yourself, imagine I’m there with you,” 

You shift, hand slipping lower and body arching to slide your middle and ring finger as deep as they’ll go. You stay mostly quiet this time, but your breathing is heavy and you’re sure he can hear it. 

“Close your eyes,” He murmurs, “picture my fingers,” 

You gasp softly. 

“Grind,” He tells you, “grind your pussy on my palm and feel my fingers fucking you,” 

You bite back a moan, only the slip of a soft sound into the microphone as you start to rock, rolling your hips and working your clit against your hand as you sink into his fantasy. You always took him for soft, the romantic type who’d blush at saying the word ‘pussy’ let alone talking you through what’s bound to be the headiest orgasm of your life, but you’ve never been so happy to be wrong. 

“Yes,” Yunho moans and you shudder, “I can hear you moving, you’re doing so good,” 

Pleasurable stars burst behind your eyes and you grind harder into your slick palm. 

“So good,” He groans and you hear him roll in the bedding, his voice changing to something lower and breathier, and then the rhythmic rock of sheets from his side of the phone tells you all you need to know. You can almost see it, Yunho braced on his forearms, hips thrusting to drive his cock in and out of his hot fist, his face buried in the pillow you slept on the night before. 

Heat melts through you, your body alight, and you grapple to find the phone again - Close

“Already?” He says in a flushed exhale, “You’re so hot, that’s so hot,” 

You need him to talk to you, you need him to tell you what to do, and you whimper into the bedding as you work your body faster up to the peak. 

“You gonna come for me?” He murmurs, “Yeah? Hmm?” 

You drop the phone and press a hand over your lips, stifling the threat of a real moan. 

“Let go,” His voice is so low in your ear you can practically feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, “come for me,” 

Your legs are trembling, knees digging into the mattress and sweat gathered on your brow, and you feel the pressure start to crack open inside you, “Coming,” you whimper into your fingers so he knows, and then it breaks. 

“God, good girl, yes,” He groans, “I’m coming with you, fuck,” 

Your body curls into itself as you release, locking up in pleasure as you feel wave after wave of heat. You bite down on your knuckle to keep from making a sound, silently falling apart, dimly aware somewhere in your gut that half the heat you felt was his, that part of that pleasure was his own. 

Yunho moans in your ear as you ride the sensations, panting and cursing and you can’t wait to feel him pulsing inside you while he sounds this good. 

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover, but when your brain starts to connect again you realize you’re panting against the cool flat of the mattress and both your phone and pillow are nowhere to be found. You swallow hard and pop your head up, but Iseul hasn’t moved an inch and you thank god for her liberal use of melatonin while traveling. 

In your ear you register the sound of Yunho’s breath and the end of a sentence, “still there?” 

He must have been talking, and you try to focus in on the sound of him now as you slip your hand out from between your sticky thighs. 

He exhales slowly and you hear him shifting around, “y/n, baby, are you there?” 

 “Uh-huh,” You manage. 

“Sleepy?” He murmurs, misreading your sound, “That’s okay,” 

You make a tiny noise of protest and search the bed for your phone. 

“Baby?” He’s confused and you grin at his sleepy sated tone. 

Sliding off the bed onto nearly boneless legs, you find your pillow off to the side and your phone underneath. You snap it up and send a message quickly - Wait

“Wait?” He breathes, “Sure, I’m not going anywhere, I’m here,” 

You tiptoe to the bathroom as quietly as you can and then shut yourself behind the heavy door, flicking on the light and collapsing to sit on the closed toilet lid. 

You disconnect your earbuds and bring your phone to your ear, “Hey,” 

“Hey,” He murmurs, “you okay?” 

“Yeah,” You smile, still a little breathless, “Hiding in the bathroom for a sec so I could actually talk to you,” 

He hums, a quiet, lazy laugh, “Ah,” 

“Are you okay?” You find yourself asking, a little nervous tumble in your gut. 

“Me?” He says, “I’m incredible, you’re incredible,” 

“Yeah?” You draw your knees up, wrapping your arms around yourself and smiling into the phone. 

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” He checks, but you still hear the sound of him calling you ‘good girl’ and you shiver. 

“Not too much,” You sigh into the phone. 

“Good,” He hums, “I thought so, I was trying to pay attention to how you were feeling, but it was a little,”

“Hard to focus?” You offer and he laughs. 

“Yeah,” He sighs again, heavy and sated. 

“I can’t wait for this tour to be over,” You confess, “I just want to be with you,” 

You feel a pang in your chest and listen as Yunho rolls in the sheets, “I know, I want that too,” 

A little lump forms in your throat and you breathe through it, “Yunho,” 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Have you ever felt like this before?” Your thundering heart has started to slow, and you let your eyes close as you murmur the question. 

“Never,” He murmurs, “but I felt this way before we touched,” 

You feel his tenderness wrap around your heart as if he were in the room with you, and with a small smile you whisper, “I thought you said you weren’t holding a candle?” 

“I lied,” He says softly, “it’s been you for a long time,” 

He doesn’t say it, not in so many words, but you feel the way he loves you through the link in a wave. It’s as good as any confession to you, just as honest if not more so. 

“I wish I could come upstairs,” You manage, tears pricking your eyes. 

You hear him swallow and breathe a slow breath through his nose, “Soon, I promise. We’re going to do this right,” 

“I know,” 

“Are your headphones still in?” He asks

“No, but I can switch back,” 

“Put them back in and go get back in bed,” He softly instructs, “it’s late, but I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, okay?” 

“Okay,” You swap back over to your earbuds and adjust them. 

“Get back to bed,” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Yunho,” You interrupt him, “thank you for staying with me,” 

“Always,” He says, and for the first time in your life when someone says they’ll be there, you believe it. 

“I’m going back out,” Your voice drops to a whisper, “good night,” 

“Mhm,” He listens as you slip back into bed, “just get comfortable, just breathe. I’m right here with you, jagiya, I’ll be right here.” 

He murmurs to you softly until your mind is sinking into darkness, body finally unspooling and letting you drop off into sleep. It’s not the same as his arms around you, but it settles you more than any meditation, his voice a steady whisper through your dreams. 

In the morning when you wake the call is still connected and the first sound you hear is his slow breath and the steady beat of his heart.

[leviathanspain]

hii 💌 can I request some angst with president!coryo & victor!reader, same plot line as tbosas basically, he was once her mentor & now she’s his first lady

except the quarter quell with former victors happens earlier & he deliberately leaves her name out but she ends up volunteering instead

his first lady

coriolanus snow x victor!reader

synopsis: after years of hiding from the public, ashamed of your past and your husband, you discover the only way to end this, is with you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

he had lost his mind.

in the five years since your games, you had married the man who had given dr. gaul the ideas and tools to continue with the annual hunger games. he had also been the man to mentor you, showing you to an audience to get them to love you, simultaneously he fell in love with you.

he was powerful, you knew you couldn’t reject his advances, not while you were stuck behind the bars of the capital zoo. so you held his hand, listened to everything he said, winning as he promised you would.

only then did you hope that his attention on you would end, and you would be free to return home to your district, to put this part of your life behind…

except it haunted you, every day, every waking moment.

you never returned home, you never saw your parents again after being reaped, he became president, and you became his wife; his first lady.

and now, president snow stood on that stage, smile blazing as he announced that the fifteenth annual hunger games would reap its tributes, from the existing pool of victors.

he had truly lost his mind.

you gripped tigris’ arm as you watched coryo on the screen. he had just announced the changes, and you were left shocked.

tigris gulped, “i doubt he would leave your name in there.” she comforted you, “he would never do that-“ she paused, and you knew it was hesitation.

you stared at the screen, watching as the symbol of panem graced the screen, and you knew he would be home soon.

you shook your head, still in disbelief. you didn’t know what to think, coriolanus’ morality scale had gotten worse as the years went by and more power came, you were unsure what he would do to anyone, let alone you.

he loved you, more than you loved him. you never forgave him for what he did to sejanus, and coriolanus knew that, but he had made it known that as long as you were alive, he would never divorce you. his little loose end.

this could be the means to an end. if coriolanus was as smart as he was told, he would leave your name in, hope for the possibility to send you to your death, tying his loose end completely.

tigris stared as you grabbed the tv clicker, clicking the buttons to turn off the awful song that blasted with the logo. it wasn’t working, tigris tried to help you with it but your frustration over the games led you to slam the clicker into the tv screen, promptly breaking the screen.

coriolanus came home to a dark house. all the lights had been shut off, and he could still smell tigris’ perfume, lingering in the living room.

he set his bag down, taking off his coat and laying it down on the couch. he could see light emanating from the bedroom, and he could hear your soft singing.

coryo smiled, slowly walking down the hall, pushing the half cracked door open, seeing you on the bed. your nightshirt hung off your shoulder slightly, and your hair was loose. you looked beautiful, in the dim candlelight.

“my lady.” he greeted softly, bed dipping as he sat on his side. you turned, closing the novel you had been reading. you smiled softly, “coriolanus.” he frowned slightly, going in to give you a kiss, but you turned around to put your book away, effectively dodging his kiss.

“you’re upset.” he knew it immediately, you never called him coriolanus, not unless you were mad at him. usually he was called coriolanus every hunger games, as long as each games lasted. he had known eventually it would start up again, but this was far too early.

you didn’t say anything, opting to shrug as you stood up, pulling the sheets up.

coriolanus watched you get into the bed, snuggling into the snow white sheets, trying to avoid the conversation all together.

coryo stood up, removing his shoes and tie, “you saw the announcement.” he deduced, having put it together from the faint scent of his cousin’s perfume. “i didn’t want you to see it, i wanted to tell you myself-“ he kept undressing, and you sat up abruptly, “you had all morning to tell me what you had planned, but you let me go on about my day, let me think of you fondly and for you to announce that?!” you couldn’t help the tone of voice that you took with him, sometimes he was just irrational that not even you could get through to him.

he laughed softly, “so you wouldn’t have thought of me fondly if i had told you before the rest of the country?” he pulled the sheets on his side of the bed up, pulling them up to his chest as he turned to face you.

your back was resting against the pillows, arms crossed as you continued, “why would you do that, coryo?” your voice cracked, and his expression softened. one of his only weaknesses’ was you crying, whether it was someone else’s fault or his, it was a wretched weakness. “the victors are victors for a reason, why do we have to fight for our lives, all over again? hmm, haven’t we done enough?” you felt tears on your cheek, and you sniffled slightly.

coriolanus shook his head, “y/n, i took your name out.” he grabbed your thigh, “you won’t even have the chance of being reaped. you’ll just stand pretty on stage and watch the others get reaped.”

the others.

“you mean the children that i mentored to fight to the death and win?” you couldn’t see him through the puddles of tears in your eyes. you could only keep crying.

coriolanus stared, watching you sniffle and dab your tears away. he didn’t know what to say. this was his country, but you were his wife.

“just stand there y/n, they’ll be room for tears later.” he spat, and you stared at him in disbelief. coriolanus had become cruel, shrewd in his ways. this was a perfect example of one of the many ways he had changed.

you hauled yourself out of the bed, staring at coriolanus as you stomped out of the room. you had plenty of extra rooms in the house, and decided to go into one, leaving coriolanus to sleep in the bed by himself. he called after you, but you ignored him as you locked the door behind you.

you hadn’t seen so many people gathered in a long time. they stood in rows, long rows that seem to never end from where you stood. you stood next to the other tributes from your district, younger than you, eyes full of pain and sorrow.

the bowls containing their names were placed in front, one for the girls, and another for the boys. you knew your name wasn’t in there, coryo had said, ‘nothings changed’.

you listened carefully as the female victor was announced. valora grove, the young girl who you had just mentored this last hunger games. you watched as she hesitated to step up, face stricken with fear, this was happening to her all over again.

“i volunteer!” you panted, stepping up as you held a hand out, blocking valora from walking any further, “i volunteer as tribute.” you repeated, chest falling heavily as you stared out into the crowd, their faces displaying plain shock.

president snow’s wife, the first lady, the tenth annual hunger games victor, had just volunteered.

coriolanus must’ve just heard the news, because as you stood forward, accepting of what was to come, you were promptly escorted from the stage by peacekeepers, thrown into a car and driven straight back to the capitol.

coriolanus was furious, you knew. you knew your husband better than anyone in the world, better than his own family. he knew you well too, but you knew this was something he hadn’t anticipated, a small crack in his plans.

“you better hope i die.” was the first thing you said to him as the car doors open, coriolanus angrily gripping onto the handle. he stood there, fuming, “why y/n? why would you do that, you know that i can’t-“

“what? stop the games? of course not, that would make you look bad, coriolanus. but that’s exactly why i did it. you have no choice.” one thing that coriolanus had forgotten about you, was that you were smart, and usually, always one step ahead of him.

“i’m still a loose end, president snow.” you reminded him, stuck staring at his piercing blue eyes as his expression warped.

[luvtak]

samson ❁ lfx x gn!reader

it’s 12 minutes till your birthday, and you’re reminiscing on falling in love <3

❁ tw/genre fluff! just sweet lovers being sweet, what can i say its what i do best! reader is said to be a year younger than felix. unedited.

❁ w/c 1037

❁ a/n its been months and months since i’ve written anything, but i’m finally free for the summer!! i’m hoping to write a bunch so i hope you like this one and watch for all the others!! ily always <3 happy reading!!

masterlist

it all started with a smile; a warm glinting thing that brought goosebumps to your skin, and butterflies in your belly.

You saw him from across the room, the first party of the summer in full force—music blasting and bad decisions forming—and the boy in the corner, shining with golden sunlight and a midnight grin.

His eyes were remembering his last laugh, crescent moons twinkling on beat with the music. The song’s refrain repeating dirty words and pretty fantasies, all while this beautiful boy looked over at you.

You remember thinking he was beautiful, not merely hot or good looking, but beautiful…

What would it be like to be loved by this boy?

He was really truly lovely, and he was looking at you. He can see how he walked, his hips swaying as he moved his body to you, shaking hands and blowing kisses at his friends nearby. He was loved that much was obvious, filling up on affection from everyone he passed, but still he was staring at you.

Your heart’s song filled your ears and his toothy grin blinded, but still you couldn’t look away—breath getting heavier the closer he got to you. The memory of the party is hazy… friends and ex lovers dancing and drinking, laughing and lying… But the memory of the first time you saw Felix lives in your head like a recorded re-run.

“Hi,” he told you, “D’ya come here often?”

He said it with the sweetest voice, barely recognizing how cheesy it was, but still you sighed… this pretty boy and his pretty voice…

He spoke to you all night, hand on your thigh and eyes alight with mischief. You might’ve fallen in love right then, sinking into infatuation like a worn out couch. He was so familiar, like a dream you’d had once, or a dream of a dream…

You remember all this, yet you still can’t believe he’s in bed with you now, curled around you like a sleepy house cat—as warm and inviting as your childhood blankets.

“I can’t believe it's almost your birthday…” He tells you, “you’re so old now.”

“Felix!” you say, laughing even while reprimanding.

“What?! you were just a baby when we met, now you’re an old broad.”

“Well, if I’m old then you’re ancient—don’t forget you robbed the cradle.” You tell him, laughing at his distraught pout.

“Baby, I’m only a year older than you,” He cries, holding you tighter through his crocodile tears.

Your giggles are misplaced in your dark room, the only light coming from the fairy nightlight Felix insisted you bought. Your skin is hot underneath the layers of clothes and your boyfriend’s warm body, but still you move closer to him—snuggling into his hold.

“I can’t believe my baby is this mean to me, but I’ll let it go since your birthday is in 12 minutes…”

“How kind of you,” you say, “it’s almost like you love me…”

“Yeah, yeah” Felix says, but he does love you—with every atom that makes up his physical body.

Ever since he saw you, he knew it, believing in love at first sight as soon as he saw you in your party clothes. He remembers his heart stuttering in his chest, the way his ears burned—he fell in love then, but he knows he needs you now. Needs you like a plant needs sun and water, like you’re his basic needs come to life.

“Do you ever think about it?” He asks, “That first night we met?” Felix sounds nervous, which is silly really—why would he ever need to be nervous with you?

“All the time,” you tell him, “I think it’s my favorite memory.”

It's his too—he’s been thinking about it a lot lately, your face smiling up at him… his hands burning with the need to touch you. Everything was new and slightly forbidden, coated in impropriety and illicit fantasies. He loves that memory, the moment he knew he had to be yours, but he thinks he may love this moment more…

Laying in bed with you, two hearts in one shelter, your hands rubbing at his back with loving familiarity rather than an exciting caress. Yes, meetings are always magic, but knowing you inside out and front and back sure is better. You’re his, your heart lives in his chest cavity and beats next to his—there is no insecurity or beginning giggles, he loves you with the stability of a hundred armys. That first moment was his favorite memory, but now there's this: you in your jammies making fun of him, counting down the minutes until your birthday.

“I think your birthday is my favorite day of the year,” He says, voice deep with sleepy thoughts.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I love seeing you happy—plus, it reminds me that you’re here, that I get to love you and celebrate you… It’s my favorite thing to do you know,”

“Do what, honey?”

“Love you.” His voice is honey and his smile is torture, shining down at you with a look that tells you he knows what he’s doing. “Four more minutes now.”

God you love him, you’re silly sweet boy—how treacherous it is to love him, to feel your heart trying to squeeze out of your rib cage and break into his. Loving him is sublime: terrible and powerful, beautiful and ugly; loving him is everything you’ve ever wanted, and the only thing you need. Even while he crushes your weight with his, even when he starts teasing you about all your embarrassing moments this year—counting one by one till he gets to your age.

“You’re such a menace , I don’t know why I put up with you.” You say, but you’re kissing him, pressing your lips to his after every humiliating moment he brings up. “Thirty more seconds!”

He grins, prettier than anything you’ve ever seen, and starts singing you into your new year. Each ‘happy birthday’ in a different funny voice, with a kiss to end each verse.

“Happy birthday, my baby love.” He whispers, sweet and sultry like chocolate cake. “Can I give you your present now?” he asks, eyes lighting up with familiar trouble, and you know—with everything in you—you’ll never get enough of him.

[golbrocklovely]

candid // colby brock

A/N: i know yall…. it’s been so long since i last posted anything. my apologies on that one. i just haven’t been in the mood to write anything. but shoutout to these pics of colby bc the moment i saw them, i knew i had to write a fic about them. this one is sweet and basically just a blurb, but i promise i’m coming out with a longer fic soon. i got a lot i gotta make up for, and this is just the beginning lol lmk what you think and hope you enjoy !

prompt: your boyfriend looks good one day and you decide you need to take a picture of him. || colby brock x reader

trigger warning: none, super sweet and fluffy 🙂

word count: 853

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

“You look so handsome today.” I smiled sweetly, staring up at Colby.

He glanced away from his phone to me, his brow furrowing sassily. “What?”

“I said you look handsome.” I repeated.

He looked down at what he was wearing: a big t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His feet were bare, and his hair was not completely done the way he usually did it: straightened and with a bit of gel to keep it so. He had woken up from a nap an hour ago, his hair losing its flat texture for a more wavy, messy type.

He looked so beautiful, truly. But when didn't I think of him that way? I always found him beautiful, even well before we started dating.

He hid a smile at the corner of his mouth, “Really? I look a mess.”

“Not at all.” I shook my head, stepping closer to him.

He slid his phone into his pocket, locking eyes with me. His voice was low, bashful. “But you always say that about me. That I look nice…”

“Have I ever lied?” I questioned.

He twisted his face jokingly. “I feel like you probably have at least once.”

I gasped, swatting at him. “Absolutely not! You take that back.”

He grabbed my wrist, sliding his hand into mine. A playful smile rested on his lips. “You're too kind to me.”

“Maybe you need to see what you look like…” I pulled my hand from his grasp, taking my phone and pulling up the camera.

“Aww, c’mon babe. No.” He walked around the island in the kitchen, laughing halfheartedly.

I followed after him, “What? You don't want me to take a pic of you?”

“Not really, no.” He shook his head.

“Oh, coming from the guy that takes pics of me when I sleep?” I argued.

He turned to me, still backing away from me. “I only did that twice, and both times you looked so cute.”

I scoffed, “My hair was going in six different directions, and I was basically drooling!”

He grinned, his dimples appearing. “And you still looked beautiful to me.”

I held my breath; damn he was attractive… “Exactly how I feel about you.”

He groaned, covering his face. He stopped moving away from me however, leaning his one hip against the counter.

“Move your hands.” I grabbed his one arm, pulling it down. Both of his hands followed and I snapped a quick pic. His face was still partially covered, his eyes being the only part really showing.

“Maybe next time warn me about the flash. I'm blind now.” Colby blinked harshly, his eyes unfocused.

“Oh relax, you big baby.” I murmured, pulling up the pic. “See! Look how good you look.”

He gazed down at my screen, giving me a quizzical look. “You think I look good?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. He was so stubborn sometimes. “Yes.”

“My hair is so messy. I think I need a haircut.” He remarked.

I bit my lip, staring up at his hair. “I like when your hair is a bit messy.”

“I know you do. I don't, though.” He replied. 

“What? I never knew that.” I deadpanned.

He glared down at me, rolling his eyes and walking to the living room.

“Let me take another one!” I called after him.

He huffed, walking through the living room. “No. No. I think we're good with the candids today.”

“C'mon Colby, I whined, catching up to him. “You really do look so nice. Just let me take one more.”

He reached the stairs, ready to go up. “I think one is enough.”

I cut him off, jumping in front of him on the stairs. “Please.... just one more.”

“Why are you so adamant about taking a picture of me?” He snorted.

“I don't know, babe. Maybe because you're my boyfriend, and I love you, and I want as many pics of you as I can get in this lifetime?” I admitted, placing my hands on my hips.

He turned his head to the side. “Really?”

“Yeah. Plus you look really hot.” I added, winking.

He stared at me, his piercing blue eyes playful. He sucked his teeth dramatically. “Fine. But just one more.”

“Okay. Just one more.” I lined my phone up, "Pose for me, baby."

He rolled his eyes, placing one hand on his face, the other on the banister. I took the picture quickly, whispering a perfect under my breath.

Colby leaned over me, looking down at the picture. I smiled brightly. “Aww, this one is so good. What do you think?”

“It's not too bad.” He mumbled, shrugging.

“You'll grow to like it, I bet. Especially since I'm making it my background.” I smiled, already changing it to my background.

He took his phone out, following my lead. “I'm gonna make the one of you sleeping my background then.”

“As if you haven't done that before.” I raised an eyebrow at him, our eyes meeting.

Colby smirked at me. His eyes softened and he leaned in, kissing my lips. “Love you.”

My face warmed at his touch. “Love you too.”

[wildflowersandvibranium]

Muscle Memory : Chapter Five

Pairing: CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS Restaurant Owner Bucky Barnes x Cardiac Surgeon Female Reader Alternate Universe

Summary: In a town that never forgets , she thought she could hide the bruises behind a perfect smile and life. But someone from her past sees too much—and remembers everything. sorry its so vague just don't want to give too much away!

Word Count: 3.4k+

Chapter Warnings: pretty tame chapter , some anxiety feelings , mentions of pregnancy (not reader) some sadness but also fluffy reader x bucky moments all up in here! enjoyyy

A/N: hello? is this thing on...*taps on mic*... HELLO! it feels like forever since i posted an update but here we are and here we go!! tysm for your comments and all interactions it truly keeps me in love with writing and creating :3 💖

series master list

<- previous chapter - next chapter ->

The long fluorescent lights of the hospital cafeteria buzzed softly overhead Y/N as she was sat at the staff table , carefully balancing her half-empty coffee cup on her bouncing knee. 

She’d been running on only pure adrenaline all morning , from bouncing from one surgery to the next nonstop , and now she finally found herself surrounded by her co-workers , the small talk and laughter at the table a welcome hum in the background of her exhaustion.

She shifted slightly in her seat , feeling the dull ache of healing bruises and marks beneath makeup and clothes. 

Her reflection in the bathroom mirror that morning had shown the faint shadows of them still doing all they could to continue to linger on her soft skin. But she’d been taught and learned all the right angles and the right ways to hold herself so no one would see what was left behind.

Across from her , Emily , a nurse she’d gone to basic med school with for a couple years , leaned forward , pulling her brown hair into a messy knot and clipping it securely with a pink claw clip as she let out a big sigh.

 “God , I’m starving. Do you know what the cafeteria has today? If it’s that sad lasagna again , I’m about to start a petition.” Emily swivled her head to try and peek at what was being dished out to the staff for lunch but was out of luck with where she was sitting.

Y/N laughed softly at her threat and replied. “I think it’s chicken pot pie again,” glancing down looking up the hospital’s meal schedule on her phone.

Emily groaned , dropping her head. “Ugh , not any better.” She leaned back in her chair , closing her eyes. “I need real food today. Something that tastes like it was made by love and someone who actually knows what they are doing.”

A spark of memory and idea lit up in Y/N’s mind , and she remembered Bucky’s offhanded comment the last time she’d spoken to him—“Lunch is on me whenever you want.” 

The remembrance of that kind and warm offer still lingered , like a small glow in her chest. 

She hesitated for just a second pondering the thought , then spoke up.

“I might have an idea on where to get lunch,” she said , glancing around the table. “I know a place—Buck’s , that restaurant over by fourth and main.           My… friend owns it , and he said he’d be happy to have us come by for lunch sometime on him. I can go pick it up , if you guys want.”

The reaction was immediate—Emily’s eyes lit up with joy and as she sat up straight. 

“Are you serious? Buck’s is amazing! Oh my God , yes , please!” 

Noah , one of the interns , perked up. “I’ve never been. Is it really that good?”

“The best,” Y/N said with a small smile. “Trust me.”

She picked up her phone again telling everyone to text what they wanted in their group chat, and soon enough , the orders were being rattled off , one by one. 

Pasta primavera for Misty the nurse in cardiac-peds , the grilled salmon for Peter , a couple hearty salads for herself and Noah and of course a burger for Emily that she swore was the best in the state. 

Y/N noted it all down in her notes app , then fingers tapping out a text to Bucky to let him know she was coming by.

As she stood to leave , Peter , her young intern still stuck with her for the month , scrambled to his feet. “Mind if I tag along?” he questioned , eyes wide and earnest. 

“I want to see this place everyone and especially you keep talking about.”

“Sure Pete ,” Y/N smiled , hoisting her bag over her shoulder nodding to the door. “Let’s go.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The drive from the hospital to Buck’s was a short one , just a few streets and a couple stop lights here and there , but Y/N felt the tension in her shoulders ease with each street away from the sterile halls and the low-level chaos of the ER she was helping out in , lots of severe trauma patients this morning. 

The sky overhead was bright with early spring sunshine , and she let the soft warmth of it settle over her skin , trying to quiet the restless thrum of her heart as she drove.

Peter chattered beside her about the morning’s surgeries they did , his excitement a balm to the darker thoughts she’d been fighting. 

She offered small smiles and nods of encouragement but her mind half-focused on the conversation , half on the knot of nerves twisting in her stomach at the thought of seeing Bucky again.

The restaurant slowly came into view, warm and inviting with its rustic wooden sign and the big doors that always made her smile. 

She turned off the radio , grabbed her things and hopped out of the car walking to the entrance. She pushed it open , the soft jingle of the bell above the door greeting them , announcing their arrival.

Bucky was right there , behind the bar , talking to one of the servers when he heard the little bell. 

He looked up hearing shuffling and footsteps , his face lighting up instantly with that easy , lopsided smile that had always made her feel like she was home.

“Hey , doll,” he called out cheerfully , wiping his hands on a dish towel as he stepped around the bar crossing the room to them. “You made it.”

“Hey,” she said back , feeling the warmth in her chest spread out just a little more and of course him using the nickname did not help die down the feeling swirling either. 

“Everyone at the hospital is dying for some and I quote “real good food.” she giggled, making quotation marks with her fingers. “ So I hope you’re up for the challenge.”

He chuckled with her , a soft sound that made the space between them feel brighter and alive. “Always.” 

His eyes flicked to Peter , Bucky cocked his head slightly to the side with question , as Peterwas busy scanning the restaurant with wide eyes. 

“Who’s the little guy?” He asked , looking at Y/N now.

“Oh–sorry , this is Peter. My intern for the month. He wanted to see the place for himself.”

Bucky smiled , “Nothin’ to be sorry for doll.” 

He offered his hand out , and Peter shook it with the nervous excitement of someone meeting a minor small town celebrity. 

“Nice to meet you , man,” Bucky said , grinning. “I’m Bucky.”

Peter nodded eagerly. “Nice to meet you sir , t-this place is amazing. It’s even cooler in person.”

Bucky laughed again , and Y/N felt herself relaxing , the normalcy of it all a wave of relaxation and niceness she hadn’t realized she needed so badly.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

They placed their own orders along with their co-workers , Bucky jotting them down on a note pad with quick practiced ease. 

As he moved to the kitchen to hand his chef the orders and start the preparations , he leaned in close in passing  , enough for her to catch the faint scent of his cologne , warm , woodsy , familiar. 

“You’re not in a rush , are you?” he asked quietly only her able to hear his low tone. “If you’ve got time , stick around a bit. Food’ll be ready soon.”

“I’ve got time,” she smiled , and the words felt like a small gift thanking herself for rescheduling her proceder for the day before , so she could be here now.

Peter , already enchanted by the place and its atmosphere , spoke up and offered to help carry the orders when they were done. 

He took a seat at the bar on a stool , chatting with one of the servers who was around his age , leaving Y/N standing by Bucky as he moved around the kitchen helping speed things up , checking on sauces and tossing fresh herbs into a sizzling pan

The smell was heavenly making her take a deep inhale and exhale.

It felt… safe , she realized that all too well , watching him move like it was muscle memory ,  with such care and purpose. Like stepping back into a time where their lives were something soft and good.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

A little while later , the large door swung open emitting the soft jingle of the bell above , pulling her from her thoughts. Walking in was Sam Wilson , his easy grin lighting up the whole room with his beaming voice. 

“Bucky Barnes , you still making the best damn lunch in this city or what?” he called out , and Bucky laughed, shaking his head , coming out from the kitchen to greet him with a back-slapping hug.

“Hey Sam ,” Bucky’s smile was wide, and Sam caught the rare look on his friends face immediately. 

“Sam , this is Y/N. Y/N , Sam. And that’s Sam’s wife , Inaya.”

Sarah gave Y/N a warm , welcoming smile as he wrapped an arm around his wife. “It’s so nice to meet you ,” Inaya greeted her voice warm and soothing , reaching out to shake her hand.

“You too ,” Y/N said , feeling that same gentle ease settle over her shoulders looking at the pair.

The conversation flowed surprisingly easily between them as they all stood together near the bar and kitchen , waiting for the food to be done. 

Sam was quick to slip in a joke here and there , Inaya’s laughter filling the space like music throughout the space. 

Y/N even found herself laughing sometimes too, feeling the tension ease out of her like air from an overstretched balloon. She had to admit Sam was pretty funny.

When the orders were done and packaged up , she handed Peter the bags , warm and fragrant wafting the air , scents of garlic and fresh grilled meat making her stomach growl loudly. 

“Here , take these back to the hospital , okay? I’ll be along in a little bit. My schedule’s free and open until later tonight with Mrs. Evanson.”

Peter nodded , carefully balancing the bags and boxes in his arms. “Sure thing. Thanks , Dr. Y/N.” He nodded and to the group and smiled to Bucky as he left the restaurant catching the uber they called him earlier.

She watched him go , the door swinging shut behind him making the bell ring out again , and then turned back to find Bucky who was already pulling out a seat for her next to him. 

“Come on ,” he said , a quiet warmth in his voice. “Sit. You’re not leaving here till you’ve had something to eat.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

They all easily settled into a booth tucked into the corner by the pool tables , the late afternoon light streaming in through the windows and turning everything inside a yellowy golden.

Bucky set plates in front of them pasta for Sam , a warm soup for Inaya , a simple but delicious grilled cheese for himself he whipped up , and the fresh salad she ordered earlier.

For a while , the group just… ate. Talking about nothing and everything between bites. The topics were mixed about the weather , then to the restaurant , steering next to the little details of life that didn’t have to be important to matter.

Inaya , ever the curious extrovert , leaned forward at one point gesturing her spoon to her and asked , “So, Y/N—are you single?Married?”

Y/N’s breath caught in her chest slightly making her swallow hard. She could feel Bucky’s eyes burning on her, the weight of them very much there.

She took a sip of her water and took a small breath putting on a soft smile looking at Inaya. 

“No I um…,” she began, her voice catching just a little. “I’m engaged. To… my fiance , his name is Tyler.”

There was a pregnant slightly uncomfortable pause , just long enough for the weight of those words to sink in. 

Sam offered a polite smile , Inaya’s brows lifted in quiet surprise. “Well then , congratulations,” she said gently.

“Thank you,” Y/N managed a nod , though her smile felt brittle , her hands clenching hard around her fork. 

She didn't dare look at Bucky as Inaya continued asking her questions , she just couldn't.

Inaya’s gaze flicked to Bucky and then back over again to Y/N. “How long have you two been engaged?”

“A while now ,” her voice soft but unpredictable , and almost apologetic. She forced another smile , though it didn’t dare to reach her eyes. “It’s… complicated there's been some bumps , some on and offs but um it was a beautiful proposal…Paris.”

Bucky’s hand reaching for a napkin paused for just a moment in midair at her confession , but he didn’t say anything out loud. He didn’t push. Didn't command more from here. Just watched with that quiet understanding in his  blue eyes that always seemed to cut straight through her walls.

Inaya , sensing the sudden heaviness shifting in the air , shifted the conversation gently to herself and Sam hoping to lighten the tone. 

“We just found out we’re expecting our second ,” she said, her hand dropping to rest lightly on her still flat stomach. “It’s… exciting. A little scary. But mostly exciting.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Y/N said looking at Bucky whos mouth was open and patted Sam on the back whispering something to him. 

The sincerity in her voice colored her cheeks as she beamed. “Congratulations you two”

“Thank you ,” Inaya smile warm and genuine leaning to kiss sam as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders

. “Do you… do you want kids, Y/N?”

The question just sat idle and still in the air between them , thick and loaded. 

Y/N felt the breath catch in her throat , tears immediately springing in her eyes, her fingers curling tighter around themselves as they lay in her lap.

She didn’t look up at Inaya or Sam. Instead , her glassy gaze slid to Bucky seeking any amount of quiet comfort he could maybe give her. He was already watching her with that same quiet intensity.

Being a mom was one of her biggest dreams in this world. To have a squishy soft pink baby that looked like her , to have a sticky toddler fill her home with songs and little feet pattering. God , she wanted nothing more in her life. Yes , she accomplished being a well known and established head of cardio surgery in her hometowns hospital but to be a mom , to have a kid with B–

Tyler. To have a kid, her own baby, her own child , she wanted nothing more , but life was cruel and she didn't know–.

“I-I don’t know,” she said, responding leaving her inner fight of spiraling thoughts. 

The words coming out in a near-whisper. “I… I used to. But now… I don’t know.”

The sadness in her voice and the answer she gave was like a sharp blade , and Bucky felt it deep in his chest , a dull ache he couldn’t name. 

When they were together as kids , before graduating , before Bucks , before Tyler they talked and planned their own family all the time. Bucky grew up with 2 sisters and a home full of chaos and laughter so of course he wanted a family of his own one day. And even more if they were with his girl. 

And she grew up an only child with more scars then tickles given in her home. Making her want to share the love she had so deep and tucked inside she never could pour out. She wanted a few kids , they talked about names , some age gaps they preferred between kids and silly things like who would change the diapers or who would master late night bath time. But she truly wanted it with him , their love.

In that moment Bucky reached out , his hand sliding over her leg and brushing lightly over her knuckles on her lap—just for a second. Just enough to remind her she wasn’t alone right now and he was there for her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

They moved on to safer and smaller topics after that. Sam told a story about his oldest son’s soccer game yesterday—how he’d run the wrong way down the field , scoring a goal for the other team and then bursting into tears when he realized. 

Inaya laughed so hard holding her stomach she nearly choked on her tea , and even Y/N found herself letting out a laugh at the thought of the poor Wilson boy trying his hardest , the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside her.

It felt good , this exact very moment. It felt normal. And she clung to that feeling like a lifeline.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Eventually , the plates were cleared away , the afternoon light growing softer as the sun began to dip toward the horizon behind buildings. 

Sam stood up stretching , clapping Bucky on the shoulder. “We should get going,” he said , glancing at his wife  with a soft smile. “You need to rest honey.”

“Yeah , yeah” she  said , standing with a little grunt as he helped her up. “Thanks for lunch , Bucky. It was amazing , as always.”

“You know you and your family are always welcome here ,” Bucky grinned as he helped her with her coat.

He turned to Y/N then , his smile softer. “You heading out too or staying a while longer?”

“Just for a bit ,” her voice gentle. “I’ve got a late shift tonight, but… I like it here too much to leave just yet.”

He nodded , his eyes holding hers for a long , quiet moment. 

Sam and Inaya said their goodbyes , Inaya pulling Y/N into a gentle hug that smelled like vanilla and something warm underneath. “It was so good to meet you,” she said softly.

“You too,” Y/N agreed , her voice warm and sincere , despite the lingering feelings she had in her chest.

As they turned to leave , Sam winked at Bucky , his grin wide and knowing. “I’ll see you at the dinner,” he called over his shoulder , his voice light.

Bucky chuckled. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Then they left , the door closing softly behind them bell jingling , and Y/N stood there for a long moment , feeling the quiet of just them in the restaurant settle around her like a cozy blanket.

She let out a slow breath she didn't know she was holding , feeling the weight of the afternoon— the laughter and the quiet confessions and the warmth of old friends. And in that stillness , she felt… almost okay.

Almost.

Bucky moved back behind the bar , wiping down the bar counter with a rag , a nervous habit he started doing when the place opened.

 He didn’t say anything just yet , didn’t push. Just worked in the easy, practiced way he always did and knew to handle her , like he knew she needed a minute to gather herself.

She watched him , the way the fading sunlight caught in his chestnut hair, the way his shoulders moved beneath the soft flannel of his shirt. And for just a moment , she let herself believe in the possibility of their being something softer, something better.

When she finally spoke up for the first time since the couple left , her voice was quiet but steady.

 “I should probably head back soon,” she said , her fingers playing with the straw of her empty cup.

He looked up , meeting her gaze with that quiet secure intenseness she knew so well. “Okay , I’ll see you at the dinner,”  his voice soft but with a hint of asking. 

“Yeah,” she said , her lips curving into a small , real smile meeting her eyes. “I’ll see you there.”

Then he stepped forward , striding to her , wrapping her in a hug that was warm and careful , like he was afraid of breaking her.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” he murmured against her hair smelling her sweet shampoo.

She nodded , pressing her face into his shoulder for a moment. “I will,” she said softly. “I promise.”

When he let her go with that , meeting his eyes again she saw there was a look in his gaze that made her chest thump. 

It couldn't be what her mind told her it was.

Before she did or said something she would regret she quickly slipped out of their little bubble through the door leaving , stepping into the late afternoon light , it continued painting the street in warm gold hues as she stepped back into the chaotic bubble popping world that called her outside.

-end

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[curseddollfaye]

“baby can you call me back?…it’s so lonely in my mansion”

drug dealer bf! gojo x reader

✩ intro for our lovely couple , a look into the beginning of their relationship to start off! 😋 enjoy! ✩

ᥫ᭡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! ty! please let me know what you think! ^.^ requests are currently CLOSED ᥫ᭡

masterlist

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ੈ✩‧·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· *ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Mmmm I think I want…the pink one” Your eyes basically sparkled as you look at the selection of diamond earrings in front of you. Your sunglasses pushed up and out of your face. A array of bags on one arm, and a drink on the other. Iced matcha latte with caramel cold foam. Fresh French tips tapped against your cup as you hummed a happy tune to yourself.

“Of course ma’am, would you like me to take anything else out of the show case?” The jewelry sales associate offered you a wide customer service smile. Who wouldn’t with the amount of money you were charging to the black plastic card tucked away on your heart juicy couture bag. The commission the man was about to make was nearly enough to make him the happiest person in the damn store probably.

“I’ll let you know if anything else catches my eye! Thank you!”

“Don’t you think you’re going a little overboard?” Your friend Utahime pipped up beside you. She had her own set of shopping bags. But not nearly as many as you. She had watched you run that debit card the entire day and she was shocked at how it kept approving.

Well. She had an idea.

Your new boyfriend Satoru Gojo

Utahime watched you hum and tilt your head as you looked at her with a glossy pout on your lips.

“Whaddya mean Ime?”

She laughed at your response and shook her head. “I mean won’t Satoru mind with how much money you’re spending?” Utahime was never not worried about you. Haven been your bestfriend since you were in Kindergarten she knew you like the back of your hand. You weren’t the type to date any guy. So it shocked her when 2 months ago you told her you had a boyfriend. Sheepishly admitting that you had really been dating him for 3 months prior to her finding out. Telling her that she wanted to make sure he was a solid guy before introducing him to your friends. Even though Utahime was familiar with the white haired man. They both grew up in the same neighborhood, Saturo was always the kid in their street that every knew. Every wanted to be friend with Satoru Gojo. Everyone’s PARENTS wanted to make friends with his parents. They came from money, not that Satoru didn’t work for his. It’s just what comes with generational wealth.

“Satoru mind that I’m spending his money?” You snorted back a laugh and took a sip of your cold beverage. “He’s the one that gave it to me babe. And I quote ‘Whatever you want baby’ “ You grin as the associate finally came back out with your earrings wrapped and tucked in a velvet black box. He slipped it in a bag quickly and handed it to you. Your receipt tucked neatly away in its contents.

“The one day I don’t go to a dumb party that Choso throws and you’re telling me he invites his stupidly handsome rich friends?” Utahime grumbles. “I have a bone to pick with that blonde hair runway model”

“You mean your boyfriend Choso?” You tease as the two of you make your way out of the store. Finally enough having done enough shopping for the day. You truly wanted to run back to your apartment and wait for Satoru finish whatever it is he was doing so you could finally snuggle him.

And fuck him too of course.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Utahime’s cheeks got red. By the looks of the way she’s fighting that smile off you concur and give her a wide smile telling her everything she needs to know. She’s not hiding her crush on you two’s mutual friend that good.

hmm I wonder what time saturo is going to be back…

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ੈ✩‧·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Going back to your apartment went smoothly. You gladly put all your new stuff away in your very large closet (thanks to Saturo who insisted moving you into a better place. He said it suits your lifestyle more now. You nearly sunk to your knees at his confession)

You managed to eat something really quickly, shower, shave, and do your skincare with enough time to spare before-

“I’m back gorgeous!” A happy man announced as he stepped foot through your door. Keys dangling on one hand using his own spare to get inside.

You were in the middle of applying your coconut bliss body butter on your arms when you hear him. An excited smile appears on your face. You haven’t seen him since he went back home earlier in the morning and it wasn’t fair! You deserved his time more than anyone :( , it’s obvious he spoils you way too much but to be fair it’s his fault!

“Baby!” You run to him. Looking absolutely delectable in a long sleeve black shirt and some sweats you swore he’d stolen back from you. His clothes were always way too big on you; he was a tall man, not that you wet complaining. His sunglasses were still on his perfect face but the grin that graced his features was enough for you to jump into his arms. You were wearing some tight booty shirts he had bought you, stating that you looked too good in them. Resulting in the only pair you previously owned to be torn.

At least he replaces them tenfold :D

You inhale his scent. You missed him so much. Your heart feels warm. Because truthfully you loved this man. He treated you so sweetly without expecting anything. His love for you was apparent in the past few months. Indescribable feeling of cloud nine and you never wanted to get out of it. His actions, his words, and overall the way he heard you, understood you, and cared for you. Satoru Gojo was a man of his word, keeping you safe and loved was his number one priority.

In the past dealing with assholes was what you were used to, not by choice of course. But after a while you started to despise the idea of finding that someone until he came along.

“You okay pretty girl?” You open your eyes, you didn’t even realize you had closed him. His large hands had came down to hold you up by your ass. Fingers pressed snuggly into the soft skin. Your tits pressed against his chest. Your arms around his neck already scratching that spot in his scalp that always makes him melt.

“Better now that you’re here” You lift your head up from his chest slightly amd purse your lips to ask for a kiss. Satoru gladly obliges and leans down shaking his head slightly and chuckling to himself. His girl must’ve missed him so much. However will he make it up to you?

“Well thankfully your hot sexy boyfriend is here to keep you all warm again hmm? Fuck you smell so good, you know I love it when you wear that coconut shit” Satoru leans down and inhales deeply from your neck. He feels his boxers start to tighten up a little bit. That combine with the way your breasts pressed up against him. He hasn’t touched you all day!

“Take us to the couch-ahh!” You scream as your boyfriend manages to toss you up over his shoulder effortlessly. Your ass right next to his face, he wastes no time giving your left ass cheek a harsh slap before his palm rubs to smooth the red forming skin over. Instinctively you feel your legs squeeze together. Bastard.

“Nah I think we’re going to bed baby girl”

“Damn no hi, hello, how are you?” You snort as he carries you down the hall and pushes your bedroom door open.

“You think m’not gonna converse with you baby? Don’t hurt my feelings you know me better than that” He sets you down on the bed gently and looks down to stare at you.

Your pretty lips swollen from the way he always eagerly sucks your bottom lip when he kisses you.

Those fuck me eyes yours always had his head dizzy.

You slowly rose to your knees as he stood at the edge of the bed. Your hands trailed up under his shirt as you (almost) managed to reach his height. Satoru started down at you, admiring all your prettiness, of course. His hands leaned down to your ass again and he softly started to grope you.

“Take this shirt off, it’s in the way” You mumbled in annoyance.

He snickered at you teasingly.

“Patient baby, I wanna have a conversation with my favorite girl remember?”

“Boo, you whore”

“Your whore though remember?” Satoru removes his hands from you and painfully backs away from your touch. Leaning down really quickly to press a kiss to your forehead. Basically having to force himself away from your touch before he ends up pounding you to sleep in the bed.

Patience HE has to remind himself.

“How was your day today?” You watched him take off his shirt, leaving him shirtless. He then proceeded to take stuff out of his pockets, his pack of cigarettes, his keys, his familiar bright blue flame lighter you had gotten for him as a souvenir from the beach. He swears it’s the best lighter he own and states it’s lasted him so long. The last item he pulls out is a bag containing a pre rolled blunt. You’ve smoked with him once or twice but it really wasn’t your thing, you left that all for him. Despite having the best discount on some of you ever needed any (it was free, Satoru would never charge his pretty girlfriend a dollar for some shit he could cover, a man dedicated to making sure you’re straight).

You sit back still on your knees. Your hands behind you as you watch Satoru walk over to your window and crack it open. His hand already flicking the lighter to spark up his blunt. Bringing the end of it to his lips. He winks at you as he inhales and exhales. Repeating it 3 times before he finally fills his lungs with that familiar sting. Blowing it out and relaxing from how long of a day he’s had. He works hard for his shit, he deserves it.

“It was good, got my nails done, went shopping with Utahime”

Satoru scoffs and his hazy eyes look at you as he laughs.

“Be nice! You act as if she’s your mortal enemy!”

“She’s hated me since like 4th grade. I’m telling you babe I think she needs to get laid immediately before she prunes up or something”

“By who? Choso?”

“Might as well be, I’ve seen him stalking her Instagram” Satoru loves gossiping with you as well, which made your relationship that much more entertaining. Sometimes he’d listen to you talk about drama that’s going on, and he’d always join in with you. Always taking your side / perspective as well. Because Satoru agreed with you without second thought.

A personified munch , in two ways.

You store the new information tucked away in the back of your head to tell Utahime, already picturing the wide smile she’s going to try to hide whenever you tell her Choso was looking through her insta.

Satoru puts his half smoked blunt out on a tray near the window that you had just for him. His muscles relaxing and the stress of the day finally disappearing from his body.

“Enough about Utahime, I’m tryna spend some quality time with my favorite girl. Gonna show me all the pretty thongs you bought later yeah? Lemme see those pretty tits first baby…”

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ੈ✩‧·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Your lights were turned off, the window was cracked open letting in the cool cold air in as it makes its way into your warm bedroom. The only light really was the moon shine.

Your headboard obnoxiously hit against your wall, and your bed noisily creaked from the speed in which Satoru was snapping his hips into you.

You positioned on your side. A leg thrown on top of Saturo’s. Your neck and chest littered with purple marks. Your hair was a little messy, and your thin lace purple panties pulled to the side. Revealing your swollen pussy. Your boyfriend’s cock stretching you out nice and wide. Breathless whines leave your swollen lips. The man’s hands held both of your tits in his long slender fingers. The fat of your boobs slip in between his fingers from his harsh grip. Occasionally rolling your nipples in between his fingers. Pulling and tugging making them even more sensitive. As if he wasn’t just sucking them desperately 30 minutes prior as he fucked you with his fingers. The sound of your squelching pussy while he plays with your clit and curls his fingers feel inside of you just like you need. The vision is always engraved in his head every single time.

“Ahh! Fuck, ‘toru!” You look down to where you’re both connected. Your man grunts in response and lets out a hiss as he reaches your g spot just right with his swollen mushroom tip. The angry red tip bullying your plush velvety walls. He wore no condom, which you both knew that was not a good idea , neither of you were ready for a child so it was a little reckless. But cumming inside of you was his favorite part. Tied with cumming on your face or inside your mouth.

Cumming on your ass

He shivers at the thought and reaches down to grip your hips. A shudder escapes down his spine.

“Doing s’good for me baby fuck…” You feel his lips near your ear. His breath fanning down your neck. “It’s all for me? Hmm? Tell me, say it you fucking slut” Satoru demands. His right hand leaves your hip and grips your jaw to turn your head to look at him. Intense blue eyes stare back at yours. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open as your head bobs furiously while you try to keep it still. His pace is unforgiving. He needed release so much, but most of all he needed you to come for the third time.

He was a selfless lover, you always came at least twice before he even came once! Mouth, fingers, and then his cock. That the goal everytime before he pounds you into the mattress.

“It’s all for you!” You wail and squeeze your eyes shit. Pursed lips feigning for a kiss, you feel his tongue trace over your plump lips before he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth.

“Should spank that ass raw for tryna run from me earlier while I eat my pussy, should’ve played with that swollen little clit till your legs went numb” You feel your stomach tighten at his words. A band inside you is about to snap and you know he’s not that far behind.

The intensity of it all is almost too much, but just right. That perfect balance that only Satoru Gojo can provide. He was your own personal drug, and as cliche as it sounded his words flowed into your veins and released serotonin that had you almost too fucked out to speak. You respond the only way you know how;

“Should’ve fucked my tits, would’ve squeezed them around your big cock and stuck my tongue out for you-“ You gasp and toss your head back on his shoulder. Your eyes rolling back. “Ahh! S-Satoru! Please , please, please” You inhale deeply , tears prickle your eyes from pleasure. A pressure wraps around tour throat as Satoru uses you as leverage to fuck himself harder and faster into your tight cunt.

If that was even possible.

“So fucking naughty- oh fuck..s-so perfect for me. Could fuck you everyday baby…s’what you deserve for being so perfect f’me.”Saturo is pussy drunk as he keeps talking to you through the orgasm that’s sneakily approaching.

“Yes please! Wan’ you inside me all the time- ahhhhh!”

You scream and arch your back. Reaching down to your pussy and rubbing your clit , causing your legs to spasm and you swear all you see is white. Your toes are curled and you know after this you’re gonna be an overstimulated mess. You’d be surprised if you even make it past Satoru carrying you to the tub for some after care before you passed away from tiredness.

“Gonna come inside you baby, gonna claim Whats mine” He spits at you roughly. His balls tighten and before he knows if he’s shooting his hot cum deep inside you. Riding you both through your orgasm and continuing to spill his load and fuck it back inside you. Your soft pussy spurting some of it back out, not being able to keep all of it inside you.

“Fuck I love you so much” Satoru says after a few moments of silence.

“Gonna make you my wife one day I swear” He grins and lets out a breathless chuckle. His famous grin spreading across his lips. His lips find your forehead. He’s still inside of you, but it’s more comforting this way before he has to pull out and clean you up.

“6 months and you got me so fucking whipped for you , you know that? Did you do some of that witchy woo woo stuff and make me in love with you or something? That’s what it feels like when I’m around you” Satoru says honestly. Rubbing soft circles on your back. Your breath evening out.

“Whenever I’m around you I’m at complete peace…I don’t know if I ever knew what that feeling was before you….Eh, I’m being sappy because I’m tired I think” He laughs and shakes his head.

“You good baby? I’ll run a bath for you Im a few minutes” Yawning and scratching his head Satoru kisses your cheek. Slowly pulling out of you. Watching his spent leak out of you.

“Baby?”

Silence.

Then soft snores erupted into the silence. A content smile on your boyfriend’s lips.

You had heard none of what he said but it didn’t make it any less true. He meant every word, and he’d say it a million times over and over again without getting tired.

Because truthfully , you had his heart in your palm. Ball was in your court no matter what. He knew he was never leaving and he only hoped you felt the same. Maybe you would grow old with him just like he saw whenever he was sleeping.

6 months and you’re driving Satoru insane with how much he needs you already.

“I’ll just tell you tomorrow…” Reaching over to snatch his phone he watches it light up, his eyes meeting the bright light as his brightness was turnt all the way up. His lockstreen a picture of you wearing a light pink juicy couture track suit. A clip in your hair, posing in front of the Hello Kitty food truck that came to the city. He had taken you and brighten you everything you even stared at for longer than a second.

(Bought one of everything from the whole truck for you is what I’m tryna say)

He quickly sets at alarm for 30 minutes from the current time 1:30 am , so he could clean both of you guys up and maybe order some late night food.

Satoru pulls the covers over both of you and hold you from behind. His arm tucking around your entire body.

Satoru Gojo hopes he can fall asleep this way for the rest of his life, truly.

For now he looks into the present and what’s in store for the two of you.

[crushoncaleb]

Be my valentine

Rafayel x reader

Fluff

1.4k words

You try to ask Rafayel to be your valentine. The keyword is try.

A/N. First time I have written something for a holiday or event and actually managed to post it in time! Basically, I couldn't sleep, and Rafayel possessed me. Hope y'all enjoy!

My masterlist

Is this...rejection?

You'd spent some time planning it, even bribed Thomas to get Rafayel the day off. But when you and Rafayel arrived at your usual spot at the beach. He didn't seem to take note of the seagulls at all.

The seagulls you had somehow managed to train into landing in the right order so the letters you stuck to them would ask him to be your valentine. Now, you'd be the first to admit, the whole plan was a little crazy, but with your and Rafayel's history and connection to the seagulls choir, you'd thought it would be cute.

If it had been any more subtle, you might've believed he genuinely missed it. But it's quite hard to believe someone like Rafayel would not see the literal seagull choir the two of you were here to visit. So naturally, you had to assume he was letting you down easy.

Even being let down easy hurt. It completely blindsided you. You were absolutely certain something had been brewing between you and the artist. Hell, last time you'd spent time with him after wearing new perfume, he'd spent about an hour shoving his face against you to breathe you in. You were SO certain that crossed the line of platonic.

You start questioning if perhaps you'd been reading social interactions wrong your entire life, as next to you, Rafayel starts getting antsy.

"Cutie, as much as the sky is beautiful today and I would love to spend time staring at it with you, we should go get lunch now. Thomas' endless texting has tired me out, and I'm huungry. " He speaks, his tone light and whiney as always, and for a second, you consider him world's greatest actor.

You decide that what you felt for Rafayel combined with the effort you'd put into this plan was worth the risk of heartbreak, so in a final effort to get him to acknowledge you, you speak up.

"Don't you want to see your trusty choir first? They're right there behind you. I'm sure they've missed their conductor." You're not sure if you manage to keep your tone quite as light and playful as intended, desperation tinging the edges of your words, but you've spoken them, now he HAS to respond.

A pause, anticipation clogs your veins, and you practically feel your blood pressure rising. "...there's a boat ride with a buffet that might be nice today, since the weather is so nice and all."

Your eyebrows raise, the casual tone of his voice so steady that you almost start questioning if you even did bring it up at all. But the quick look he takes at you and the way he turns away tells you he is definitely doing this on purpose.

It was truly rejection then, your stomach twists and a buffet and a boat ride with Rafayel suddenly sound daunting. You could get over rejection, but maybe not within 10 minutes.

"Hmm, that sounds nice but I'm actually starting to feel a little off," you muse on your excuse "I think I might head home a little earlier than planned today, Rafayel, rain check?"

He turns to face you now, slowly. Eyes wide and brows furrowed, expression reminiscent of that time you gave him a single apple when he checked himself into the hospital. A mix between shock, offense, and a silent command to change your mind.

He grabs your wrist and starts pulling you along. His expression changes in a heartbeat, and it's like you never said anything.

"They apparently have like a super long waiting list, but I got in pretty easily. Guess being well known does have its perks after all, huh?" He keeps talking in that same casual tone of his, which is starting to frustrate you to no end.

"Rafayel, I get that a rain check for the boat might not be easy if it's like that, but I really need to go home." You plead, trying to pull yourself out of his grip but he just turns to you, gives you that same expression that you're convinced only Rafayel can make properly, and then keeps going like you never opened your mouth.

You're baffled at his behavior, and by the time you recover, the two of you are making your way onto the boat.

"Now, I'm going to need you to stop looking so surprised, cutie." He reaches out to gently smooth his fingers over the muscles of your brows, which you will admit are a little tense from how you've had them raised the entire way here. "I need you looking as cute as you always do for the pictures we're gonna take here."

It was one thing to completely ignore what was practically a confession, another to blatantly ignore your request to go home, but the audacity to tell you to not be surprised at his antics? That was too far.

He tries to pull you along again, but you hold steady. He shoots you a questioning look. As if you're the one acting out of the ordinary.

"Rafayel, I want to go home," and you're proud of yourself for standing on business, convinced there is no way for him to just ignore that. In your defense, he doesn't.

Instead, he huffs, his gorgeous features taking on that oh so familiar, annoyed expression. His response is a short "no, you don't" before he takes a step closer to you, only to link your arms and pull you along with the new leverage that gives him.

Then, before you know it, you're standing at the front of the boat as it slides through the water. With no way home except a very prolonged dive.

Rafayel entertains you, and the entire situation had been confusing enough to distract you from his blatant rejection, but now that his weird behavior seems to be settling, reality starts creeping in. You're stuck with him now, so you'll have to keep yourself together until you manage to get off this boat. How vexing.

His first cough doesn't shake you out of the deep thoughts you're in and neither does the second so, Rafayel resorts to nudging you with his elbow when a red fish surfaces with a bottle in its mouth.

You look at him, but he pointedly looks away, like he didn't just practically poke your ribs out. When you lean towards the railing, the fish jumps, and the bottle flies towards you.

You're not actually in the mood to catch it, but your hunter instincts kick in, and in the blink of an eye, the intricate glass bottle is in your hands. You can see a note neatly curled up and tied with a bow, resting inside it.

"Wow, cutie, those are some reflexes." Rafayel feigns being impressed and then presses on. "You should open it. You won the bottle's secrets fair and square once you saved its life."

You narrow your eyes at him. This could not possibly have been more obviously set up by him. Though you will say, his sheer determination to have things go his way is admirable.

You comply, already knowing the only other option was to face his huffing and puffing before then having to comply after all.

The cork takes more effort to open than you'd like, and Rafayel smiles fondly at the slight flush that rises on your face in result. Once you unroll the note, though, your eyes widen.

There, in Rafayel's eclectic handwriting are the very words you'd strung up on your seagulls.

A beat passes, and Rafayel looks at you expectantly. A cute expression on his face, and for a second, you are torn between accepting just to keep him looking like that and raining down righteous retribution on him.

You decide you'd do both. "Rafayel, of course I'll be your valentine, but did you really ha-" his lips halt yours before you could complain at all and you feel said complaints melting away.

The kiss is sweet, Rafayel brings you into his arms as he starts to deepen it, you'd always suspected he'd be a needy kisser, but he pulls away before he gets carried away.

"Sorry, cutie. Couldn't have you interfering with my plans though, you have no idea how long I've waited to make this move." His voice sounds breathy, and his eyes don't leave your lips. His words are so sweet you could almost ignore how he's pretending this was your fault. Almost.

Yet, you'll let it slide. Because as he leans in for another kiss, you just can't find it in yourself to be upset with him.

[h-sleepingirl]

Dolly in the Art Gallery: A Charmed 2025 Scene Log/Recap

“Art is how we decorate space, and music is how we decorate time.”

I first heard this Jean-Michel Basquiat quote in a rope class from Barkas, in the context of how we play within both space and time in a kink scene. I think about it frequently, especially as I feel more and more passionately about the brutally human impulse to create art.

I have been coming to hypnosis events since 2013, before Charmed existed -- my first event was packed with my own manic energy, held in a dungeon where people could hypnotize me basically at will. No hotel staff, no sneaking back to a private room. I developed a reputation as an aesthetically pleasing subject, often put on display in subtle and overt ways.

I have grown up in this community. Essentially my entire adult life has been spent involved in going to events and cons. I'm 33 now, and as Charmed celebrates its 10th year I've perhaps been unconsciously influenced to reflect on myself aging.

I feel so much older than that 21 year old exhibitionist. I'm more reserved, quieter, more selective, and certainly smarter. I like who I'm becoming, but I do miss parts of who I used to be -- that confidence, that energy. 

On Friday evening I looked at the schedule and saw there was going to be a Gallery of Living Art -- it's been a staple at Charmed for a number of years, but I'd never done more than peek inside.

I thought to myself: “Why not try to get in touch with that playful younger self? Why not show everyone who I am nowadays? Why not live out a fantasy?” 

Surely I’m not too old. Surely I haven’t grown out of this.

The time comes and I connect with my partner about it. He knows that one of my absolute favorite things is being totally frozen. We decide against anything complicated. No one will touch me or trigger me or anything like that. It’s the most “negotiating” we've maybe ever done, but I still leave all details to him. I tell him: “I was really just thinking this is an opportunity for me to sit blank and still for a long time.”

We walk into the room, and it’s overwhelming. People are setting up intricate exhibits with lots of creative interactions. There is a sheet we need to fill out to describe what our “art” is, which my partner writes on cryptically.

“Dolly can't talk. Duh…”

“Dolly is precious -- don't touch!”

Under “Artist”, where he is meant to put his name, he writes a question mark.

I am so in love with him, watching his mind work on the spot.

We find a place in the loud room and look at each other. We are a fluid force of nature in a bed together, spontaneous and wild. This planning doesn't feel like us. This hypnosis isn't a formality, per se, but it just feels sort of like “We both know how this is going to end on some level -- so how do we spend this time?”

He gingerly removes my name tag and starts murmuring to me. 

Being a dolly is such a luxurious treat that the moment he suggests it, I crumble, gripping his shirt with my weak little fingers, moaning too softly to be heard by anyone but him.

He poses me. He fixes my gaze blank and forward. He lets me practice standing and sitting. This kind of rehearsal is unfamiliar for us, and I almost relish doing something that feels a little awkward.

I am a dolly when he leaves me, frozen and posed, but I know it is going to take a couple minutes to settle in. I am a dolly getting comfortable, a dolly with twinges of self-consciousness. After a couple minutes he walks me over to a different chair, one that is highlighted by empty space around it, and I sit, and I know this is truly where I am supposed to be on display.

Finally, total stillness rushes over me like pure relief. 

I sit, and I stare, and I don’t do anything else. My mind is blank, and sometimes all there is inside my head is “I’m a dolly, I’m a dolly,” in my little dolly voice. It is pure, simple bliss.

People begin to come up to me to look at me. I am a good dolly and I am silent and I do not move even my eyes. They patiently read my sign and then observe me. I cannot change my body position to be any more or less appealing to them, I cannot hide nor flaunt myself.

Some people say things to me, little compliments and appreciations, and I can’t really process their words. The little dolly voice in my head screams in pleasure when I’m spoken to and given attention.

I have ADHD, I’m addicted to my phone, I’m a fidgeter. But there is nothing that carries the unique pleasure of being frozen and still. It reminds me of Quaker meetings, of spiritual silence and meditation that makes one feel time itself as though it has a sensory texture.

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel talks about the Jewish sabbath as proof that it is not intuitive for us to sanctify time. But nevertheless as Jews we must learn to do it to make shabbat holy every week. Shabbat is “a cathedral in time,” he says, and I’ve been thinking about how much that applies to my experience of hypnosis. Hypnosis is not a physical object. We may sometimes have props but we cannot touch trance and it leaves no marks. It is time that is the sacred dimension in hypnosis, the time that we set aside (“kadosh” in Hebrew) with another human being.

Heschel says we are slaves to space and material things. And in this moment I feel like I have gotten as close as I can to releasing that. I am not even moving my physical body within the physical world. I am just relishing each passing second of stillness, building my cathedral in time.

Of course, sometimes I think sacred space and objects are very important. After all, I am in a space that is incredibly rare, that only exists very briefly, that I had to travel at length to get to.

And I am an object -- art -- inside of it. I am literally decorating the space, as Basquiat would say.

Am I thinking all of this as I sit there motionless? No, not with any sophistication. I truly feel blank. But I am feeling flashes of this as abstract mental sensations that I will untangle later.

Something else strikes me very quickly that I observe within. When people walk up to look at me, something inside me tenses up. I realize that I am unconsciously preparing myself to talk to them. I have been coming to cons for so long, and especially since beginning to write books I always meet a ton of new people every year who come up to me to talk, which I adore. But right now I am in a space where I literally cannot have a conversation with anyone. I don’t even have my nametag on anymore -- my partner was so clever to remove it.

It is the opposite of vending books, where I sit in a chair and am helpless in the sense that I must engage in conversation with the people who come up to meet me. Now, I literally cannot talk to anyone, and they cannot talk to me, and most people may not even know who I am.

It is a hit of extreme objectification, more real than it has ever felt. I am not sleepingirl -- I am a dolly. “Who” I am doesn’t matter. I am art.

My partner also is not sitting there receiving compliments for me. He is nearby, in eyesight, just watching. But he’s anonymous too. And there is something about this mutual anonymity that makes me feel even prouder about us as a couple. There is no performance of who we are. I don’t know how to describe it, but obviously it feels more authentic than public play usually ever does. Like a little secret we are sharing a corner of.

And he looks ever the artist, sitting back and watching me. I feel very strongly that this little scene isn’t the art -- it’s me. Our relationship is what’s really on display. All the work he’s done over 7 years of brainwashing me, real work on my personality and identity, my wardrobe, every single way I express myself and who I am. The people coming by are seeing his bimbo, his dolly, his [x] -- without necessarily knowing who either of us are.

The rhythm is addicting. My mind babbles my self-given dolly mantra over and over, I luxuriate in the stillness, and I stare. I only can sort of half-see with darkened vision, though my eyes are wide. I love when people notice me sitting there -- their expressions change as they observe me. They step into my metaphorical space, which is eerily silent compared to the revelry of the creative demonstrations that fill the room. They are no longer “being entertained,” and no one can communicate to them what I am doing -- they must engage with me out of their own curiosity.

Sometimes they decide to talk to me. I can’t process most of it, but I remember a few interactions.

Someone says, “What an excellent dolly.”

Someone else notices that I’m wearing a bracelet that says “bimbo,” and says, “Even the details on this one are exquisite.”

Someone else says, “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen sleepingirl play before.”

That last one hits me in the gut with memories of a time now long past: Play in public spaces was universal at cons; I couldn’t move from one place to another without someone dropping me into trance; absolutely everyone knew what I looked like when hypnotized.

Even now as I am on display, I have a mask on, and the people can’t see my gently parted lips.

It is a rush of emotion that is very complex for my simple little dolly head, but it goes away.

For a long while, I just exist as a thing in bliss while the room -- the whole world -- bubbles with activity around me. 

Eventually even as I sit frozen and blank, a little timer starts ticking in my head -- I could sit here for much longer, but I don’t want to make him wait for me, and I have other things I want to do tonight.

Reading Heschel has been helping me release some of that odd panic that bubbles up when I awaken from trance -- the feeling that magic is slipping through my fingers, memories are slipping out of my mind, and I can take no memento from it. I sometimes write, draw, or make music to try to capture the things I feel in hypnosis with my partner. I think it is from that impulse to be able to touch and hold hypnosis, to make it a “thing” in space as opposed to something of time.

But I do think there is something else, just a human drive to create art about this transcendent experience that we engage in together. I need to create art to try to communicate the perfect way I don’t move and my eyes go glassy. I need to express my emotions, my desires, my dreams, my love. I am only human, a human blown away by this very human thing we do that we call hypnosis.

Only my partner sees it, and he does see so much into the soul of it for me. But this is exactly what I have wanted -- a chance to publicly communicate the beauty of what he and I do. To make this art by performing it, living it. To engage in a human act of creativity by having my humanity stripped away from me.

I am a bimbo, a dolly, I am art -- and that doesn’t go away when I get up to tell him I am done sitting here. I am his art. I am a manifestation of his creativity in this world, and he has a beautifully creative mind which I love so dearly.

This is serious for me, this is real for me, this is so highly personal and jealously guarded as my own precious identity.

Ten years ago I laid my head on his lap and he transformed my eyes into dolly eyes and told me that someday he would turn my whole body into a dolly body. And as we laid together in a bed after the Gallery on Friday he talked about how I had those dolly eyes again in that room. But to me, it’s not about being a dolly, or even being a bimbo. It’s about creating art together, art with a power imbalance. And fucking respecting that as sacred and exciting.

I don’t have much else to say except extreme heartfelt gratitude to Mazirian for running the Gallery, and everyone who came by to look at me and said nice things to me and joined me in my world for just a little while. 

(If you’re curious, I was sitting there for about 30 minutes.)

[rookiesbookies]

Pregnant brat reader here with a sfw req this time with the same cod men from before bc that was scrumptious

The men are in the nursery, cradling their newborn to soothe them. Reader walks behind them, kissing their cheek (or wherever she can reach) and she whispers “I just fell in love with you all over again.”

Can you tell I have severe baby fever atm

Oh its ok I get baby fever too. If I wasn’t still too young and trying to get a degree first, oh boy. I also get it every time I look at Neil Ellice’s face (Soap’s va/reference).

Lowkey you’re making me fall more in love with these boys, hope this is all you hoped for my loving anon.

To all my readers and anons- Keep requesting this account is my hobby LMAO

Price

Price is already softly crying but now you’ve made this man want to sob. He puts the baby down since it’s late, poor thing basically just got cleared to go home.

He kneels by the crib, finger still in the baby’s grasp as it sleeps and Price is just done for. He’s doing everything possible not to wake this baby. He’s so grateful he got this chance, and he’s not going to waste it.

Now Price is going to need soothing because his heart can’t take this moment. His hand is over his mouth to help him choke down sobs. Just you and him and now the kid he always dreamed of? He’s going to be the best dad and there’s nothing that can stop him.

Soap

It’s crazy how forgetting to put on a condom once can change your whole life.

He immediately plants a kiss back on your head, telling you to go get rest. He’s going to spend the first months of this baby’s life sleeping in the room with it. The faintest cry or struggle has him up. He’s already got it all planned.

Never going to make this life feel like an accident, no this child is an accomplishment of good sex and a wonderful choice to keep it. Maybe it wasn’t an accident after all, maybe it was meant to be.

He mumbles all kinds of thanks to the universe. He’s already named Simon and the rest of the 141 the godfathers, he couldn’t stop making mafia jokes. But now he has no jokes or witty comments, just love for his wife and his baby.

Ghost

Simon is scared shitless.

He lost his last family, he can’t lose this one too. He’s already updated the house’s security. But maybe he should upgrade it more. There’s so much more he can do, he can feel his heart rate rising.

He mumbled endless promises of safety. You have to remind him the live in the moment, that those are all things that he can do tomorrow.

Thats when he starts to get emotional. You can see it in how he squints before he pulled off his baklava.

This is one of two days that’s proven Simon Riley still exists somewhere in Ghost. This proves that Simon Riley didn’t die. This proves what Price told you when you married him, that Ghost was a fortress built to protect Simon.

Gaz

He’s been crying since the baby was born. It’s not sobs but to him this child is the ultimate testimony of your love. Of your marriage even. He still doesn’t believe it. His world now revolves around this baby.

He still doesn’t believe its his child. Sure it looks like him but would an angel like you truly grace him with this? After all the terrible things he’s done and seen in the midst of battle?

He plants a kiss right back, running his thumb over the cheek of the baby. He knows he has to put it to bed but can't he hold his kid a little longer?

He may just stay here, just for one night. Just with his kid. He has so many stories to tell. He has to introduce the baby to his team and his family.

He knows he has to wait, but he cant help it.

Konig

He still doesn’t believe it. His anxiety tells him it’s a trap set by the enemy, that he couldn’t be loved, that a woman wouldn’t want to have his offspring.

But that all melts away when he turns to see you. He’s holding a baby he was surprised your body could push out, he knows this child is his without a doubt because of its sheer size and weight.

He places fluttering kisses all over your face.

He mentions keeping the baby in your shared room, just so he can keep an eye on it he swears. Oh he promises it won’t disturb you he swears.

It wasn’t even an option to tell him no, he was already carrying the baby in on arm with a secure hold and the crib in another. He hasn’t taken his eyes off your baby for even a second and getting him to sleep will be another struggle.

Krueger

Sebastian isn’t crying, you’re crying. What do you mean there’s tears coming down his face? No, that's sweat, it’s really warm.

He never needed you to tell him you loved him at the start, but when you started to he realized his heart wasn’t made of stone after all.

Now he’s holding this little creature thats half you and half him and he’s just breaking down.

This is a second chance at life for him and he swears he’s going to do better than he started off with.

In your eyes, this murderer looks like an angel with the light seeping softly through the windows against him as he holds your sweet baby.

For the first time in a long time, he prays. He prays to not mess up and for protection for his family. Its soft, under his breath and you would barely hear it, but he prays.

Keegan

When the baby was born the whole team of ghosts showed up. It was a moment of pride.

He turns to kiss your lips right back as he walks over to the rocking chair. Oh he could get the baby a little mask and armor. Could be a mini ghost.

The team fell straight in love but none could love this baby more than Keegan.

And how he looks at you? Its like you hung the stars… which you did help him do, there’s lots of stars hanging from the nursery ceiling, but you gave him a baby. He would trade the sun for his little family, unafraid of turning nocturnal if it meant keeping this moment.

He mumbled about this meaning worth all the fighting. Promises to always come home falling from his mouth so easily.

Edit: im dropping this incase you havent seen it tol

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

[sukunasucker]

i was originally yuutasucker.. gotta put some credit on my boys name

yuuta (maybe (def) rika too ? aged up and grown w yuuta obvi) x STRONG, and dom!fem reader

if yall ever catch me writing a character as dominate or the reader as submissive SHOOT ME. SHOOT ME.

ugh. hes such a pretty boy.

yuuta knows, deep down inside, that you like him

and, just looking at him like a regular boy, its only natural he denies how he and you feel, chalking it up to normal friendship things

yes, when maki is a bit dominate during sparring, it awakes something deep inside of him that he's been hiding since rika

but when you completely FLOOR him, insulting him, teasing him during training, he gets sooooooo worked up, a part of him wanting to prove you wrong and have you pinned against the ground, but a part of him trying to stop all the blood in his body from immediately rushing down there when you ineveibitly pin him down.

he'll never use his full strength while sparring you, as he subconsciously PRAYS you'll have him on his knees under you, he PRAYS, someday youll make it more than it is, and make him submit to you right there and then, even if gojo, and the rest of the students are watching. it would honestly turn him on more if everyone knew how much you made him feel, and saw him committing such sinful acts against your body as a desperate release.

and when you add rika, it just gets so more messy. shes always been dominate over him, proposing herself, even as a young girl, and staying with him forever, being jealous, keeping him to herself.

she already had a FIT when yuuta experienced maki and all her control over him, but when she and yuuta met you, someone who could truly offer a REAL fight against her, things just got SO messy

yuuta already felt such complicated feelings for you, wanting you to always be over him, and in control of him, and then rika, basically the other half, piece, of his soul, was making comments ALWAYS..

she was the voice in his head, commenting on how, she didnt mind you hurting him a bit, since you were just that pretty of a girl.

when he'd get flustered over your casual dominance, leading him through the missions, a hand on his shoulder or waist, telling him what to do and where to go

usually, rika would freak out, but in his head, he just heard her giggle, and comment how she'd let you do the same thing to her

eventually, he started desperately fucking his fist, thinking of your hands all over him, threatening to harm him, but really playing easy, just how you did during all those training sessions, jerking him off, so soft, making him feel all the pleasure he oh so desperately needed.

and whats even worse, rika would whisper in his ear, how youd call him pathetic, a cry baby, she just egged him on, as in all honesty she wanted to see you take control over not just yuuta, but both of them

hes so fucking whipped. so much even rika is on board. thats the effect youve had on these poor people.

[yurinaa-world]

idk why but mr. reca REALLY gives off submissive energy… not necessarily NSFW but is like the little spoon when cuddling or the one always listening to u. its kinda hard to explain 😭

i just rlly want loser lover reca cause that fits him sm

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Reca x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

I understand what you mean, don’t worry...

He’s a total loser. I mean, he's a total loser even though he’s a famous director and has the confidence that makes people nervous when they're in a room with him alone. At the end of the day, he finds himself running back to you—always finds himself running back to you. You always take him back which makes him so happy.

He's basically like a dog, Listening to you with such intent that the normal might just think he’s zoning out while talking to you. But not at all! He’s listening while observing your face the entire time. 

Forget being a little spoon while cuddling—he is—he lays on your lap whenever you sit down, and he’s down on his knees on the floor while he’s face-first into your lap, how is it even comfortable who knows? Even when you hit his head playfully and tell him to get off since your thighs are starting to numb.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Get off already, my thighs feel numb.” 

He always does this. His knees were on the hardwood floor while he planted his face right into your thighs for who knows how long it’s been and, of course, he showed no signs of moving anytime soon. His arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, his grip firm like he thought you might escape if he let go for even a second. You sighed, running a hand through his hair, attempting to pry him away gently.

“Come on,” you coaxed, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice. “I’m serious. I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

He groaned in protest, nuzzling closer as if to anchor himself. “Just a few more minutes,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin. “I’m comfortable.”

“You’re comfortable,” you deadpanned, glaring down at him. “Meanwhile, I feel like I’m about to lose circulation in both legs.”

He tilted his head up, resting his chin on your thigh as he gave you a pitiful look, his lips pulled into a soft pout. “But you’re so comfy. And warm.”

“And you feel like a stack of bricks.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d just wounded him. “A stack of bricks? Wow. I’m hurt. Truly.”

“Not as hurt as my legs are right now,” you shot back, giving his hair a playful tug. “Seriously, get up before I shove you off.”

“I don’t mind. Hit me as much as you like, your hands will still feel amazing!”

“Get off.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

too many teens whining for validation, this blog needs more weird and stupid so...

AITA for kidnapping my friend and trapping her in the cheesebarn?

Hear me out:

The story starts about a week before my (20 at the time ftm) 21st birthday. If you live in the US you know this isnt just some lame 7th birthday or 36th birthday, this is one of the big boy birthdays, the special ones. Its when you can legal buy alcohol and are therefore truly an adult in the eyes of the law.

Naturally my friends (20s) wanted to do something Big for our 21sts. So they asked me what i wanted to do and i said i didnt really care as long as I got a road trip somewhere with friends.

Everyone thought it was a fun idea but it was a little short notice for everyone to get time off from work, but my other friend we will call C also had her 21st exactly a month after mine to the day, and the two of us agreed to share our 21sts and not do much of anything on my actual birthday. This is important, bc it was a SHARED birthday road trip.

I agree to let C pick the destination and I provide the car. We didnt have much of a plan as we were going to meet up with C's old roommate who lives in the city we picked to show us a good time.

It was 5 of us total and about a 7 hour drive altogether there with not a whole lot on the way there. We get to the city she picked and meet the roommate and honestly the rest of this part is just standard 21st birthday shenanigans. Its when we start the drive home things really start.

Remember its a long drive with not much to see? Well that was a lie. On our way back we see it, the Real "Happiest Place on Earth" as far as places with a mouse for a mascot go:

Grandpa's.

Fuckin'.

Cheesebarn.

Obviously me and the other people on the trip want to stop and see the magic, but unfucking fortunately C happens to be the only Basic White Girl ™️ in the entire world who hates cheese and isnt even lactose intolerant. This girl is notorious for making "petty" and "I hate Cheese" her entire personality. She would constantly make faces and gagging noises and talk about how gross and nasty cheese is if you so much as eat a grilt cheese near her.

Clearly she made it known that she wasnt on board with it. "NO! FUCK YOU ALL IM NOT GOING TO A PLACE CALLED A CHEESEBARN ON MY BIRTHDAY!!" were her exact words.

But i remembered i was driving, it was my car, and it was supposed to be my birthday too. So I put it to a vote. "Raise your hand if you wanna go to Grandpa's Cheesebarn!"

All hands raise but one. With C out voted we head to the cheesebarn.

Guys. This place is amazing. Its obviously making cheese its main draw, but yhere's so much more, its every shitty midwest tourist trap rolled into one glorious place. There's even a chocolate shop. We even got C's roommate to ditch work and come meet us bc shr heard "Grandpa's Cheesebarn" and knew she had to drop everything.

All in all a good visit, C even seemed like she had fun once we got there (she sure spent $300 on candies and dip mixes anyway). We go home. Things seem fine.

Then C drops off the face of the earth.

She wont respond to our calls or texts and at first we thought maybe she was giing through a rough patch or something and try to just keep reaching out but give her space. But then we find out that not only is she still hanging our with our other friends who couldnt make the trip with us. So clearly she's just pissed at us about something.

Finally one day a few months later i catch her at her job and just tell her "I dont care if you hate us, we'll never speak to you again if you dont want us to, but what the hell did we do to you??"

And she just looked me over and says "Well. You kidnapped me."

lolwut

And she yells (bc this girl loves yelling at people) "YOU KIDNAPPED ME AND TRAPPED ME AT A CHEESEBARN ON. MY. BIRTHDAY!!!!!"

And i just said "Well it was my birthday too," and havent spoken to her since. Its been over a decade and "No ragrets" as we said back in the day, but uts baffled me for years that that was her reaction. "Im just over you guys" i can understand, and its not like she was shy about telling people she hates them and their out of her life ever before. And from what i ended up hearing from our other friends she kept talking with it really was about the cheesebarn and how we "ruined her birthday".

No but srsly AITA??? For making her go to a cheesebarn???

What are these acronyms?

[hwanchaesong]

↗🏢 Entering 2nd floor: An encounter forced by fate, alcohol clouding your system, now you're drowning in his vermillion sheets. 🌌

🎧: Chase Atlantic - Slow Down

wc: 838

genre & warnings: smut, jealousy, angst if you squint, sprinkle of fluff ig, college setting, cursing, drinking and party, petnames, unprotected sex, mentions of cunnilingus and fingering, kind of toxic situationship with yj etc etc (yes, this is the same universe as Soobin's ver) mdni

a/n: this is a part of The Paradise Hotel series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

Your vision is starting to go dim, and it came to a point where the nasty noises are nothing more but static in your ears.

It was all hazy, sweaty, and hot but who could blame you but the man who was currently rearranging your guts.

The man who sees red whenever his demons turn into that of green and blue monsters, the one and only Choi Yeonjun.

In what way did you even manage to anger him? You have no idea, you were merely enjoying yourself in a party that you know he will be at, yet you chose to play with fire.

"I leave you alone for a while and you're whoring yourself for everyone to see." he rasps, gritting his teeth when your insides clenched tighter on his member that continuously bullies its way into your overstimulated cunt.

"Oh? You like getting called a whore?" he mocks, his thrusts neverending and harsh.

"I d-don't!" you cried out and he chuckled darkly at your weak attempt of fending off his accusations.

You really had the guts to be this courageous when you could've been his obedient little doll.

"Deny all you want babe." a hand of his that was formerly on your hips in a bruising grip snakes towards your collar bones, his finger traces the hickeys that he left on your smooth skin, "But your pussy says otherwise."

You whimpered at his degrading words, but you couldn't deny it.

How could you when you're basically dripping?

Every time he pushes his pulsating length into you, the more your juices squelch, gushing all over his vermillion sheets and his thighs.

Yeonjun really isn't in a good condition either. He's been holding back his release for hours now, and he did everything in his power to do so.

From eating you out until you're squirting in his mouth, letting him lap on your wetness, not stopping even if you beg him to stop because you're too sensitive from the prior high caused by his fingers. To fucking you into different positions just to feel more of you.

You are so fucking addictive and he couldn't get enough of you.

Since he met you through Soobin's girlfriend, you got him hooked, and he'll be damned if he can't have you in this lifetime.

His hawk eyes watched you flirt with some ugly asses in the kitchen of his frat house, and he deemed it proper to let you finish the bottle of beer you're drinking before dragging you upstairs and cornering you in an empty bedroom.

And now he has you crying out in pleasure whenever the tip of cock hits your g-spot perfectly. Begging for him to stop but the second he slows down, your eyes shoot wide open in panic. Truly, you are a statement of hypocrisy and that excites him more.

Rejecting him when he clearly knows that you're weak for him, that you can never sincerely say no to him.

"Yeonjun.. please." you mewled out his name, his snapping hips against your staggers for a bit as he was startled, but quickly regained his composure.

"You were saying, princess?" he tilts his head, his hand going over your tits to squeeze on the fatty mounds and tugging on your nipples.

"I want to cum." you mumbled, gazing into his hooded dark orbs, and his image burns into the back of your mind.

Insanely, utterly, and out of this world attractive. That's what he is.

With his messy hair, beads of sweat on his forehead, pink lips and fox-like eyes— he is magnificent.

"Hm? My princess wants to cum?" he mused, chuckling when you nodded your head.

Aren't you adorable?

"How much do you want to cum?" he asks, examining your desperate expression that made him crazy to no extent.

Your hands flew to his broad shoulders, nails raking on his porcelain skin, "So much. Please, Yeonjun, let me cum. Make me cum."

He hisses at the sting, his thrusts getting erratic while his dick inside you twitches in anticipation.

Yeonjun leans down, his face hovering over your own, his elbow supporting his weight, while the other one goes to your neck, lightly squeezing it.

"Tell me you're mine first." he orders, face dangerously hovering over yours, his warm breath fans across your lips.

The slight closing of your air pipe gave you a sensation of haziness, his words made you tingly, and his unrelenting fucking are making you feel a sensation of euphoria.

"Yeonjun.. Yeonjun." you chanted his name like you're in some sort of daze, dragging your hands to cup his face, "I am yours. All yours. I belong to you."

Yeonjun's heart squeezed, overwhelming feelings led to him capturing your lips in a sweet yet searing kiss, letting you two bask in the crashing waves of euphoria as the both of you reached utopia at the same time.

Surely, whatever color the stoplight shows, Yeonjun won't ever slow down when it comes to you, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

taglist:

@hyunjinheartbreakprince @lun4kazumii @once27 @purrplegyuu @yawnzsof @baeksofty @shakalakaboomboo

[dumbkitsune]

Going over the whole byler fight in S4 BUT, its not going to be serious AT ALL, BECAUSE IVE HAD IT WITH THOSE TWO, LIKE, HOW CANT THEY REALIZE THEYRE IN LOVE WITH EACHOTHER AAAA they're so stupid, I love them.

"Yeah, but you knew that she was having trouble for like a year! And you didnt tell me."

"I didnt know she was lying to you!"

MICHAEL, MY BOY, are you seriously acusing Will, of all people, after how you were with him in S2, ABOUT THE LIES, YOUR GIRLFRIEND TOLD YOU? The closet is starting to get a bit transparent

"Which is why you decided to be a douche to her all day?"

"I wasnt being a douche!"

BUT OF COURSE YOU WERENT WILL, MIKE KNOWS HE IS A DOUCHE, uh kinda, ITS MIKE QUEELER PROYECTING HIMSELF ONTO YOU. Its like in that rain breakup scene, I mean, like in the completly heterosexual discusion you had with Will in S3

"You were! You were, you were rolling your eyes, you were moping, you were barely talking. You basically sabotaged the whole day"

OKAY uh, this already is to much, like, the closet didnt become completly clear but it simply faded. I just, oh my god- OKAY, first of all you were being kind off a creep, like bro didnt stop staring at Will at any moment. Mike could describe perfectly every face Will has done through the day, he literally exposed himself. Milevens be tripping thinking that this mf is straight. AND THEN the fact that Mike's day is ruined because Will was feeling down is yet again another proof that he might like him more than a friend, like, no duh. AND LASTLY, of course Mike would only care for Will, blaming him or not, he doesnt gaf about how El might feel or about how she was bullied the entire time in Cali💀 Its just Will whats in his head.

"Well, she was lying to you Mike! Straight (i beg to differ) to your face ever since you got here! And Ive been a total third wheel all day, its been miserable. So sorry if I wasnt smiling."

"Yeah whatever man..."

WHATEVER MAN?? WHAT- MADRE MIA MIKE QUE OSTIA TIENES ME CAGO EN TODO. ITS NOT WILL'S FAULT YOU CANT ACCEPT YOUR HOMOSEXUALITY.

"What about us?"

"What?"

Oh its about to go down.

"You're mad that I didnt talk to you?"

YES HE IS

"Seems that you made it super clear that you're not interested in anything I have to say"

NO CAUSE BRO WAS LITERALLY PAYING ATTENTION TO YOU THE WHOLE DAY, HOW CAN HE NOT CARE ABOUT WHAT YOU SAY? THE FACT THAT WILL DIDNT TRY TO TALK MUCH TO MIKE IS THE THING THAT MADE HIM SUPER PISSED OFF IN THE FIRST PLACE.

"Thats just not true"

I mean, at least he is being honest about some things.

"You called maybe a couple times! Its been a year Mike. Meanwhile El has like a book of letters from you."

"Thats because she is my girlfriend Will!"

Yeah fr Will, he is trying to be undecover leave him by😔

"And us?"

Now we getting into the good part.

"We're friends. We're friends" Repeating it twice not only to convince himself but also in case if it also becomes true. Double or nothing.

"Well we used to be best friends."

'In the closet' starts playing

...

That last part was simply to much, and enough Byler proof for me. WHY DID MIKE PANIC WHEN WILL ASKED HIM ABOUT "THEM"? WHY DID MIKE HAD TO REAFFIRM THEY'RE FRIENDS WHEN ITS CLEAR THAT THEY ARE? AND WHY IS MIKE (Jesus Christ its only Mike💀) IN A DEFENSIVE TONE?? what is the justification for all of that if he wasnt a queer kid unable to face being gay in the 80's? Its either that or terrible writting and we know that the Duffers dont dissapoint with the scripts.

And also, bruh, the song, THE GOD DAMN SONG. PLEASE I truly do NEED a mileven trying to justify why is the song called "In the closet". Where Mike and Will are fighting and they bring up their feelings. Please Milevens come up to me and explain it.

Thats basically all lmao, ty if you actually red this whole silly thing. 💙💛

[daniwrld]

CHISHIYA <33

IM GONNA RANT FOR A SECOND BECAUSE I MUST GET THIS OFF OF MY CHEST. (You dont have to read this,, and tbh i wouldn't read this whole thing either.)

In chishiya' backstory (manga-based only), we found out that he was born into a family with no love and affection, right?? his parents never showed interest in him (and they didnt even love each other anymore. they pretended to be happy so the hospital where the father worked bc his father was the hospital head and they wouldn't get into any scandals if they pretended) chishiya basically grew up in a family with no feelings, and since he never got to know them, he still doesn't know them to this day. he basically wanted to figure out if he could feel anything by starting to work in his father's hospital as a student, he wanted to know if he could feel compassion toward any of the patients and if that would help him find meaning/interest in life? BUT IT DIDNT WORK, SO HE GAVE UP ON HIMSELF AND CONTIUED WORKING IN THAT ENVIRONMENT. you can SEE how he slowly stops caring about the patients after hayato (who he seems to remember most vividly, so i assume that was the first time it happened.) And he says "i wont carry it with me, sir." But STILL TELLS KUZURYU AND HAS FLASHBACKS ABOUT IT.

there was one thing that interested him (when he was a child.) it was the Mona Lisa painting. we see him looking at it, stating that he couldn't look away and that "everyone wants to be seen for who they are", it BASICALLY HAS TWO MEANINGS. first, one of the painting's meanings is a representation of happiness. looking at what he said, it could be interpreted as him referring to his family, who are actually just pretending and are "painted" happy

the second meaning refers to him, as he always felt different from others and viewed emotional people as stupid. because of that, other people couldn't understand him, reminded himself of the painting. (when he tells arisu he just wanted someone to understand him. he said the Mona Lisa, in one theory, has been said to be Da Vinci himself dressed as a woman—which refers to people actually not knowing Da Vinci, just as people do not actually know and understand him.) chishiya LONGS TO BE UNDERSTOOD. (which kuzuryu was the only person to ever TRULY understand him, but i will explain more on that in a moment.)

in the games, his first game was 6 of Diamonds (blackjack) and there we could see how intelligent and observant he actually is. he never gambled before and was not only able to pick up the rules through observation but also invented a mathematical card counting method to decide how to bet. other players there couldn’t understand how a "young man" like him could act so calm and unbothered, but he simply had no concept of living and DIDNT CARE if he died or not. (he often mentions dying in casual terms and refers to it as something bothersome.) from the beginning, he only "helped" others when he saw they might be useful, that's why he helped Karube and gave him information about the beach since he was with Arisu, who he became interested in.

HE MANIPULATES PEOPLE (which is why when meeting arisu at the beach, he seems NICER than other times,, and acts like arisu IS important to him.) even so, JUST BECAUSE HE'S MANIPULATIVE DOES NOT MEAN HE LIES. he was never untruthful about his intentions, and always specified them. Example: "You aren't my responsibility.", "if you do ____, it wont be my fault.", "I'm going to do ____, you should help me—but if you do, its your fault for trusting me."which—is also why, in his blackjack game he SO easily called out a man for cheating, and then CHEATES HIMSELF. he openly cheated, crumbling a card right infront of the woman and manipulating her.CONTINUING WITH THAT, he cas people ALOT in the manga his "pawns", "chess pieces", or "test subjects", because he sees them all as nothing more than just things he can use until he finds them unworthy. Even though he DOES manipulate+trap people, he has never actually killed someone himself (except for his attempt on killing niragi). For exmaple—he manipulated the people in blackjack, but he never ACTUALLY killed someone, the other players killed eachother.

At the beach, he paired with kuina, but they weren’t friends(unlike how the show shows.) In the beginning he planned to use HER to steal the cards, but decided against it. Instead, he needed her to get closer to Arisu (to use him for his plan) (WHICH IS WHY KUINA TELLS ARISU SO MUCH ABOUT HER PAST AND IS KIND TO HIM. THAT IS MANIPULATION.)he didn't care what was going to happen to them (arisu & usagi). AND kuina even asked him if he felt bad, but he doesn’t feel anything. (Kuina later in the manga even said she hates him just as much as she hates niragi)The difference between manga chishiya and show chishiya is that in the show, he TRUSTS/CARES for kuina ALREADY (just never admits it.) Manga chishiya, however, would KILL for the dynamic he has with kuina in the show. The reason he puts so much on her and hurts her is because he wants to know if she'll stay. (He believes all people will leave)And thats why, in his speech with arisu after he got shot—he says: "I've always loved messing with people who try too hard at life" BECAUSE HE WAS TESTING KUINA, to see what she would do and if she'd leave. (Toxic.. i know.)

IN THE 10 OF HEARTS: after the start of the game, he leaves kuina behind and tries killing niragi (he says that niragi pisses him off bc Niragi reminds him how awful he also is.) both of them don’t care about other people, or killing and betraying them. (Chishiya REALLY hated niragi) Chishiya knew there was something wrong with him, but he believed that he couldn’t change and gave up already. (The reason he wants niragi dead is so that he won’t have to face the thought of how evil he actually is) when he learns Arisu is alive, he doesn’t try to solve the game bc he knows Arisu will do it and that he doesn’t need to interfere. (he may be pretty good at heart games, but he doesn’t really like them bc he isn’t good with emotions and never really understood other people's emotional mindsets.)

IN THE KING OF DIAMONDS: there Chishiya still didnt care about his life and willingly gives kuzuryu the option to kill him. (as i said, he never cared about of his life.) The reason he finds the borderlands so interesting is bc he is LOOKING FOR SOMETHING WORTH HIS TIME. (like the mona lisa painting.) kuzuryu decides to sacrifice himself for Chishiya, which actually makes him start to think. He starts to wonder how people decide to sacrifice for others? Why do they do that? He contemplates the concept of empathy. kuzuryu's sacrifice was like a breaking point for chishiya. (before, arisu's will to help others interested him, but what kuzuryu did for him made him actually think about changing.)Thats why when chishiya leaves the king of Diamonds he says: "i'm envious of you." Because chishiya wishes to have the same ideals (where he can sacrifice himself and decide something while still feeling free.)

he was selfish, LACKING HUMANITY, and disinterested in life. so WHY did he decide to go back to the real world and why did he survive the shooting? because of arisu, usagi, and kuzuryu, he finally found a reason to live (to slowly change and try to understand what humanity is—i think that moment, him finding a reason to live, was the most beautiful part of his character.) THEY WERE HIS NEW MONA LISA. they made him interested!!!

NOW,, WITH ARISU AND NIRAGI. he decides to take usagi's bullet. He wants to do something nice in return, something "out of character" like he said. he wanted to know how it feels to help others, to do something for someone instead of for himself. he then expressed thoughts about the Mona Lisa, stating he only wanted someone to understand him, and it happened to be arisu, kuzuryu and niragi. he said that he was glad to meet them and told arisu that his own existence was just to show how empty humans can be. When arisu said “I understand,” chishiya came to the conclusion that he probably never wanted to learn about others emotions because he was too jealous of them and thought that he couldn't be like them. (Like i said, he GAVE UP and stopped trying to find humanity, because he was already convinced he couldnt.) He also has a fear that if he were to start caring, that he'd start regretting his life and feeling as if it got wasted because he could've lived like that all along.

He hated things he couldnt control (why in 99% of things, he leads and thinks ahead VERY FAR.) Because he is afraid of change. He's scared to admit how he feels and come to terms with the fact that he was holding himself back the entire time.

ALSO, TO ADD ONTO NIRAGI... another reason he hates him so much is because niragi feels EVERYTHING (i could go on a yap about niragi too but i'll spare you tonight 💜) and chishiya feels NOTHING. chishiya and niragi are SO similar, but chishiya was on the end that felt nothing and niragi was on the end that felt everything. He was jealous of niragi because he wanted to feel something too but couldnt.

Tysm for reading all of this if you did!!<33