#different parts of the house and its function

[temis-de-leon]

Cleithrophobia: the fear of being trapped

Characters: Belphie x gn!reader, Mammon and Asmo

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A/N: if the ending feels rushed it's because I was running out of time and I couldn't leave it for another moment. I'm sorry.

Prompts used: Caught staring at crush + Still awake talking to crush because of nightmare

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The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the suffocating air trapped inside the room.

It was dense, hot and heavy, and filled with the well-known stench of your own sweat mixed with yours and the brothers’ perfumes and colognes.

The scent of home and its familiarity would’ve been comforting otherwise, but you had a pounding headache that made every movement hurt, and right at that moment you wanted nothing but to cease existing and float on cotton candy clouds up in the sky.

Groaning and tossing around, you thought about ignoring the smell and going back to slumber. Your eyelids felt as heavy as concrete; surely it wouldn’t take too long, right?

But, sadly, as time went by and a distant clock ticked the seconds away, you soon realized how wrong you were in your assumptions. Not only did sleep evade you for what felt like hours, but your brain managed to give you enough energy and cognitive function to keep your eyes open and relentlessly stare into the darkness for that same amount of time. Slowly, your vision got used to the lack of light and started to differentiate each piece of furniture: the perennial leaves hanging over your head, the intricate designs on the Turkish rug, the worn-out corners of the shutters… Silvery thin threads of moonlight entered through the spaces between each wooden plank, and it wasn’t until then that it downed on you that someone must have closed the windows while you were asleep.

It wasn’t like you could blame any of the brothers, though.

You’d gone to bed earlier than anyone else, shivering like a new-born fawn and borderline delirious, mistaking the gargoyles and the skulls on the walls for real living creatures and believing the portraits to follow your every move. The last thing you remembered was seeing Beel’s back as he carried you to your room on his shoulder.

You understood the barrier between ventilating your room and cooling it down too much was a fragile one.

Whether you caught a fever or food intoxication from part the Devildom’s eccentric cuisine, you weren’t sure, but it seemed the worst part was already gone. Your joints didn’t ache anymore as you threw the drenched bedsheets away from you and neither did your internal organs when you sat up and placed your feet on the floor.

Thankfully, the hardwood chilled you a little bit, although it still took you a couple of minutes of deep breaths and convincing before you finally found the strength to get up.

Perhaps a walk through the empty corridors of the house could quiet your thoughts and help your body relax.

You never got any chance to do it, anyway: exploring on your own without a tall, demanding demon trailing behind; and while you appreciated your friends and their enthusiasm upon hanging out, you still appreciated your alone time. Besides, once you knew that nothing more powerful than your roommates roamed the halls, you finally found yourself able to walk around freely without fearing anything else.

And yet, your heart stopped and your breath hitched when a door creaked nearby.

Quickly, and maybe too much for your current health, your mind thought about every single brother and their possible whereabouts.

White Day was close, so Lucifer was in his office, thinking about damage prevention methods that would avoid the destruction of the entirety of RAD and its student body; you knew Levi was in his room because he had been talking non-stop about some event that took place in the middle of the night due to different time zones; and Satan had been glued to a new book series for days, so he had to be either in his room or in the library. You hadn’t seen Beel in the kitchen when you left your room, thanks to you barely eating your dinner plate and offering it to him, and Belphie wouldn’t go anywhere that didn’t have a bed in the middle of the night.

A deep sigh full of relieve escaped you when you thought about the remaining brothers.

Mammon and Asmo were the two most capable of sneaking out to go partying and coming back while everyone else was tucked in or too tired to care.

The only one that could say anything about it was Lucifer, but you really doubted he had the proper time to get mad at his younger brothers; which was probably the reason why they went out in the first place.

So, shoeless, dragging your feet to not make any type of noise, you walked towards the main entrance and waited in the darkness for them to appear.

Thankfully for your ill-intent, the fireplace was out and nothing but their supernatural nocturnal vision was there to help them see you.

Mammon entered first, showing once again how good of an older brother he was by being somewhat sober and dragging a plastered Asmo behind him. They were both wearing fashionable clothes, except Mammon’s seemed the most comfortable; as far as you could see, Asmo’s outfit was barely a bunch of intricately tied strings with strategically sewn sequins. They both smelled like candy and fruit, what you tasted each time you drank Demonus, and a bit of the Devildom’s version of tobacco.

All in all, it looked like they had a good time.

You heard Asmo mumble something before giggling uncontrollably, and Mammon shushed him softly. You could hear a smile in his tone.

A sharp pang of guilt went right past trough you, and, suddenly, you found yourself too fond of them to scare them for no good reason.

Although one could argue that scaring Mammon in the middle of the night was a good reason, but never mind.

Perhaps for another time.

“Hey guys” you whispered into the night, trying to sound soft and non-threatening.

It was useless.

A high-pitched yelp escaped Mammon, who jumped in place and let Asmo fall to the ground. The younger demon dropped like a sack of potatoes, making you wince at the noise, and barely let out a groan before slowly lifting his head and looking at his brother with teary eyes.

“That hurt a lot” he whimpered, words slurring together as he clumsily checked his face in search of injuries. Then, he looked up at you and let out a sob. “Am I still beautiful, MC?”

“You look amazing” you answered truthfully, crouching as slow as possible to not nauseate yourself again.

Asmo’s face was warm between your hands, and covered in sweat, glitter and different types of lipstick that already told the story of their night better than any of them could ever do in the morning.

“Yeah, right” chuckled Mammon, sitting on his knees right by your side and looking at the Avatar of Lust with a poor-hidden smirk. “Like a doll at an after party”

You punched his arm in response, but it obviously didn’t hurt him. He just swayed a little before sticking his tongue in your direction.

“He could look worse” he snickered, catching Asmo’s attention and making him imitate your sitting position.

“What do you mean…?” Asmo cried, frantically tracing the shape of his face. “Do I look bad?? Don’t look at me, MC!”

His wailing echoed inside the living room’s walls. You watched with pity as tears streamed down his face, destroying his makeup before landing on the sparkly skin of his exposed chest.

“Is my face broken? Of course it is! Why else would you look at me like that?”

A giggle came out of you before you could avoid it, and Mammon sighed, rolling his eyes before grabbing his brother by the armpits to lift him up.

“Shut it down, you idiot” he mumbled without malice. “You’re fine… Your skin’s just a little red in the face, that’s all”

But that just made Asmo cry harder. Mammon cringed at the loud noise before looking at you with urgency.

“I swear you look good” you reiterated, pointedly looking at his outfit with appreciation to distract him from his non-existent broken face, to no avail. “Your body looks hot and your face looks adorable. You look like a… erm… vision from another realm…?”

The sobbing subdued, and Mammon stared at you in silent stupor, eyebrows raised and mouth agape at your words.

“From another realm?” he repeated, incredulous.

“What, like I’m wrong?” you whispered in return, shrugging and frowning in confusion. “He’s from another realm. He looks good…”

“He’s asleep”

His interruption left you speechless, words disappearing in the air and hands hanging in the middle of nothing as your enumeration lost its meaning.

Sure enough, Asmo had found a secure place in his brother’s shoulder to pass out and lose consciousness. Although covered in tears, his face showed nothing but bliss, and his knees were close to giving up. If it weren’t for Mammon’s arm around his waist, the younger demon would fall hard a second time.

Giggling, you watched as he sighed again and rolled his eyes as hard as possible, bending down to move Asmo’s entire body and place it on top on both of his shoulders. Thankfully, the Avatar of Lust didn’t weight very much. Unfortunately, his mini skirt had risen up and now everything was visible.

“Not a very refine way of carrying him” you muttered between your teeth, looking away to avoid the view and give him some privacy, although a part of you suspected he’d be excited about the accidental exposure.

“Who’s gonna tell him?” Mammon shrugged, placing him better to be more comfortable. Then, he moved a hand and signalled to the hallway, inviting you to walk beside him. You pointedly chose to walk where Asmo’s head was. “What are you doing out of bed, anyway? Are you feeling better?”

You pursed your lips, unsure of what to say.

Whatever illness that left you out of commission earlier in the night had been definitely reduced, but you still felt heavy and slow, and your skin was sticky under layers of feverish sweat. And if that weren’t enough, if you moved your head too fast, your eyes would follow two seconds too late, and you felt like your brain was ignoring at least half of the signals it was receiving.

But he didn’t need to know that.

“I feel better” you said in the end, knowing he would only partially believe you.

“Whatever you say…” he chuckled humourlessly, proving your point. “You should be resting, though. You didn’t look too good”

You hummed in agreement, but something in his tone didn’t let his words get out of your head.

Still, you chose to stay silent as the both of you walked up the stairs towards Asmo’s room.

Thankfully, you didn’t feel like you were being observed by the portraits anymore, but the memories of those delusions were fresh and strong. It was the same as the suffocating air that woke you up in your bed, a non-consensual hug that left you with no sense of direction and no sense of security. Each eye was predatory and you were the prey.

By the time you all got home from RAD you were perfectly fine, but when dinner started a couple of hours later, you were quivering in fear and mumbling nonsense.

So, perhaps, ‘too good’ was just a nice way to say it.

“I’m sorry I made you guys worry” you finally whispered as he tucked Asmo in his bed.

He, without a doubt, would make a scene on the morning once he’d wake up with all that makeup and wrinkly clothes, but Mammon didn’t seem to care. Instead, he put an arm over your shoulders and guided you outside, softly closing the door after you.

Lucifer’s office light was off.

“Well, we were… But I’m glad your fine again” he said with a slightly reprimanding cadence in his voice, making quotation marks in the air.

You couldn’t help but giggle in response, feeling only a small twinge of guilt.

“I’ll go back to sleep eventually” you reassured him, hugging his waist in return as you went down the stairs again. “I just wanted to move a little, you know? Breathe some fresh air. Someone closed my windows while I was asleep and the room got too hot”

“Yeah, that was Belphie”

Huh?

“Belphie?”

“Yeah, he was worried sick about you. I mean, can you blame him? He…”

His breath hitched and he closed his mouth.

You waited for him to continue, even stopping in the middle of the stairs to catch his attention, but Mammon just grabbed your waist harder and made you walk the rest of the way.

What did he mean? What did his silence mean?

Belphie hadn’t been particularly vocal about your safety the night prior. Sure, he’d shown his concern, checking your temperature and choosing to sit by your side instead of Beel’s at the table, but he hadn’t said anything outside the ordinary.

Not like you could tell, anyway.

Wait…

Had Belphie said anything while they were having dinner? Had you been too out of it to realize?

“He what?” you asked Mammon, trying to pinch his side as annoyingly as possible.

“Ow-! Hey!”

“What happened with Belphie? Did he say something?”  

“No, he didn’t!” he complained, swatting your hands away. A deep feeling of disappointment rooted deep in your heart, and you tried not to act on it, but you could notice your face twisting from the sourness. Mammon observed you with pity before talking again, looking tired and just the tiniest bit amused. “That’s the thing: he didn’t say anything. He shut down”

He waited for you to answer, or do anything in general, but you stayed still on your place, face neutral as your mind rummaged through every memory.

The brothers were very predictable when it came down to you. Lucifer was stern, caring in his way; Mammon didn’t like to show how much he worried; Levi feared something permanent would happen; Satan was the first to search for the solution; Asmo was dramatic in his affections; and Beel never wanted to leave your side for long. Belphie, though… Belphie always showed he care, but you knew he acted in compensation.

Out of everyone in the Devildom, he had been the one to hurt you the most, both physically and mentally, and while the broken bones and bruises had healed without any problem as time went by, the internal injuries had needed much more to fade away, with some even staying with you deep in your subconscious.

He had lied to you, taken advantage of your good will and your trust, and betrayed you. Laughed over your dying corpse and then acted like nothing happened while seeking your companionship.

It had taken a lot of time and deep and emotional conversations before you could even consider him a friend. Thankfully, your shared moments after that had felt more genuine and intimate, ultimately nurturing a crush on him, but you were able to tell each time he acted “extra nice” to compensate for the times he severed your trust in him.

The night before, while you were staring at your plate with poorly hidden disgust and your body swaying in nausea and paranoid fear, he’d grabbed your hand without saying anything, and you’d guessed he’d wanted to offer his presence as the ultimate comfort.

Because that’s what he did.

You knew he worried and care, but the way he showed it had a hidden meaning.

Whether it was because he still felt bad or because he wanted you to feel better about him, you didn’t know.

And thinking about it gave you a serious headache.

“Look, MC” murmured Mammon, his voice raspy in the darkness of the night. “If you’re really feeling better and you want to take a walk, then you should check on him. He was worried about you”

“Beel was worried about me” you refuted, suddenly quieter than ever. “Should I check on him too?”

“I don’t know” he crossed his arms, looking at you pointedly. A classic older brother stance “Are you in love with Beel?”

You gasped, not expecting him to say it out loud.

Of course he knew; he was your best friend! But you’d never expressed your feelings out loud. Not only weren’t you sure about them, in the sense that you didn’t know if they were a good idea, but Belphie and Mammon were brothers. Not acquaintances or friends, but demons that grew up together and lived as such. If you tampered one friendship with a love confession, would it alter the other?

“Shut up!” you groaned in a whisper, leaping to cover his mouth, but he was smiling under your hand. “Oh my God, you’re so annoying”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever…” he chuckled, stepping away to disappear in the darkness of his room. However, just before he closed the door, he turned around and looked at you with a gentle expression. “He’s in the attic. At least… try to talk to him. And if something bad happens, you call me, okay?”

Something bad.

A curious choice of words.

Still, you nodded nervously and awkwardly waved your hand.

“Good night, Mammon”

“Good night, MC”

The silence after his door closed didn’t feel as threatening as you feared, yet your heart still hammered against your ribs.

There were no monsters in the house. No danger to be afraid of. When you turned around to walk up the stairs a second time, the portraits fused with the darkness, and the skulls grins morphed into what they really were: an open jaw holding an extinguished candle. The breeze of the night coming from the open windows in the hallway caressed your skin, bringing the sweet smell of nature from outside, and you finally found yourself strong enough to speed up and even jump a couple of steps.

For the first time in the whole night, you were cold.

The sight of the attic was a comforting one, and when you pushed the metal bars to open the door and saw a breathing lump over the bed, your heartbeat sped up in trepidation.

A small movement caught your attention as you moved closer: Belphie’s tail peeking from under the blanket, swaying side to side. You pondered covering him completely before finally deciding not to; if he were uncomfortable, he would’ve solved it by now.

Slowly, trying not to wake him up, you sat on an empty space and carefully peeled the bedsheet away from his face. Half of it was buried deep into the pillow and part of his hair covered his visible eye. His mouth was open, letting out soft snores that died before turning into something too loud, and his limps were sprawled across the whole bed.

It was a miracle you had found a spot to sit on.

Moments passed relatively peacefully as you watched him in his sleep, your heart settling down rather poorly; your hands felt tingly, twitching with excitement, and your breaths were shaky and irregular.

It wasn’t until you saw his frown that you actually relaxed a little bit.

Was he having a nightmare?

Cautiously, you bent down, moving closer to inspect his face better and give a sense to his previously non-existent mumbling. With trembling fingers and holding the air inside your lungs, you pushed away the strands of hair from his face.

His eye was open.

“Holy-!”

“MC…?”

He leaped forwards just as you started falling off the bed, grabbing your hand in time to not let you hit the ground and pulling you towards him with urgency. Your bodies collided, taking the air out of each other, and you both groaned in unison as the ache travelled through your bodies and eventually faded away.

“What are you doing here?” he moaned painfully, rubbing his jaw with a wince.

At the same time, you were whining and rubbing your forehead.

Now you understood Asmo.

“I wanted to talk to you, but now I’m, like, seriously regretting it…” another groan interrupted your sentence while you curled in a ball.

Belphie sat up against the headboard, looking down at you with a frown, but he didn’t look angry or irritated.

There was an urgency in his eyes.

He was worried!

“Are you okay?” he asked, rather frantically, grabbing your shoulder to catch your attention. “Did I hurt you? How are you feeling?”

Did he think he worsened your illness? A wave of sympathy ran through you, helping you sat up beside him and pushing you to grab his hand and draw circles on his skin. He was pale, veins sticking out and begging to be traced with your finger.

You forced yourself to not do that.

“I’m better” you told him softly.

His gaze softened, immediately showing relief at your words, and you felt a sudden need to cradle his face and just… absorb him somehow.

“How are you?” you asked instead, fighting to not move an inch of your body and startle him. He lifted his eyebrows in surprised, so you continued talking. “You were having a nightmare, right? Are you okay?”

Belphie chuckled, but there was no humour in the sound. The smile he’d shown you just a second ago disappeared in a disappointed expression, and his hair once again covered his eyes as he let his head hang low.

“It was a bad memory” he shrugged, turning his hand around to hold yours. Your heartbeat jumped to your throat, and you were sure he could hear you losing your mind, but he didn’t show any signs of it. “Nothing to worry about, MC”

A couple of seconds passed in silence, and none of you moved.

“Are you sure?”

He smiled again, this time more genuinely, before sliding his body deeper into the bed and letting his head fall on your shoulder. His hair tickled your chin, but you didn’t move a muscle. The tip of his nails felt nice against the skin of your hands.

“You left the door open” he noticed, and a part of you wanted to rush and apologize, but he didn’t seem mad about it.

Again, he sounded relieved.

Something in your mind latched onto his tone.

“You closed my window” you said in return, hesitantly. “I like it better when it’s open”

He hummed, nodded lightly and let go of your hand. You didn’t even have time to feel sad about it before he grabbed your waist and pulled you to his level.

“I’ll keep it in mind for next time”

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom @mia4gotcookiez

[reasonsforhope]

Pictured: Luis Cassiano is the founder of Teto Verde Favela, a nonprofit that teaches favela residents in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, how to build their own green roofs as a way to beat the heat. He's photographed at his house, which has a green roof.

Article

"Cassiano is the founder of Teto Verde Favela, a nonprofit that teaches favela residents how to build their own green roofs as a way to beat the heat without overloading electrical grids or spending money on fans and air conditioners. He came across the concept over a decade ago while researching how to make his own home bearable during a particularly scorching summer in Rio.

A method that's been around for thousands of years and that was perfected in Germany in the 1960s and 1970s, green roofs weren't uncommon in more affluent neighborhoods when Cassiano first heard about them. But in Rio's more than 1,000 low-income favelas, their high cost and heavy weight meant they weren't even considered a possibility.

That is, until Cassiano decided to team up with a civil engineer who was looking at green roofs as part of his doctoral thesis to figure out a way to make them both safe and affordable for favela residents. Over the next 10 years, his nonprofit was born and green roofs started popping up around the Parque Arará community, on everything from homes and day care centers, to bus stops and food trucks.

When Gomes da Silva heard the story of Teto Verde Favela, he decided then and there that he wanted his home to be the group's next project, not just to cool his own home, but to spread the word to his neighbors about how green roofs could benefit their community and others like it.

Pictured: Jessica Tapre repairs a green roof in a bus stop in Benfica, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Relief for a heat island

Like many low-income urban communities, Parque Arará is considered a heat island, an area without greenery that is more likely to suffer from extreme heat. A 2015 study from the Federal Rural University of Rio de Janeiro showed a 36-degree difference in land surface temperatures between the city's warmest neighborhoods and nearby vegetated areas. It also found that land surface temperatures in Rio's heat islands had increased by 3 degrees over the previous decade.

That kind of extreme heat can weigh heavily on human health, causing increased rates of dehydration and heat stroke; exacerbating chronic health conditions, like respiratory disorders; impacting brain function; and, ultimately, leading to death.

But with green roofs, less heat is absorbed than with other low-cost roofing materials common in favelas, such as asbestos tiles and corrugated steel sheets, which conduct extreme heat. The sustainable infrastructure also allows for evapotranspiration, a process in which plant roots absorb water and release it as vapor through their leaves, cooling the air in a similar way as sweating does for humans.

The plant-covered roofs can also dampen noise pollution, improve building energy efficiency, prevent flooding by reducing storm water runoff and ease anxiety.

"Just being able to see the greenery is good for mental health," says Marcelo Kozmhinsky, an agronomic engineer in Recife who specializes in sustainable landscaping. "Green roofs have so many positive effects on overall well-being and can be built to so many different specifications. There really are endless possibilities.""

Pictured: Summer heat has been known to melt water tanks during the summer in Rio, which runs from December to March. Pictured is the water tank at Luis Cassiano's house. He covered the tank with bidim, a lightweight material conducive for plantings that will keep things cool.

A lightweight solution

But the several layers required for traditional green roofs — each with its own purpose, like insulation or drainage — can make them quite heavy.

For favelas like Parque Arará, that can be a problem.

"When the elite build, they plan," says Cassiano. "They already consider putting green roofs on new buildings, and old buildings are built to code. But not in the favela. Everything here is low-cost and goes up any way it can."

Without the oversight of engineers or architects, and made with everything from wood scraps and daub, to bricks and cinder blocks, construction in favelas can't necessarily bear the weight of all the layers of a conventional green roof.

That's where the bidim comes in. Lightweight and conducive to plant growth — the roofs are hydroponic, so no soil is needed — it was the perfect material to make green roofs possible in Parque Arará. (Cassiano reiterates that safety comes first with any green roof he helps build. An engineer or architect is always consulted before Teto Verde Favela starts a project.)

And it was cheap. Because of the bidim and the vinyl sheets used as waterproof screening (as opposed to the traditional asphalt blanket), Cassiano's green roofs cost just 5 Brazilian reais, or $1, per square foot. A conventional green roof can cost as much as 53 Brazilian reais, or $11, for the same amount of space.

"It's about making something that has such important health and social benefits possible for everyone," says Ananda Stroke, an environmental engineering student at the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro who volunteers with Teto Verde Favela. "Everyone deserves to have access to green roofs, especially people who live in heat islands. They're the ones who need them the most." ...

It hasn't been long since Cassiano and the volunteers helped put the green roof on his house, but he can already feel the difference. It's similar, says Gomes da Silva, to the green roof-covered moto-taxi stand where he sometimes waits for a ride.

"It used to be unbearable when it was really hot out," he says. "But now it's cool enough that I can relax. Now I can breathe again."

-via NPR, January 25, 2025

[fozmeadows]

There's a lot of conversations to be had around the current influx of Americans to Xiaohongshu (RedNote/Little Red Book) ahead of the TikTok ban, many of which are better articulated by more knowledgeable people than me. And for all the fun various parties of both nationalities seem to having with memes and wholesome interactions, it's undoubtedly true that there's also some American entitlement and exoticization going on, which sucks. But a sentiment I've seen repeatedly online is that, if it's taken actually speaking to Chinese people and viewing Chinese content for Americans to understand that they've been propagandized to about China and its people, then that just proves how racist they are, and I want to push back on that, because it strikes me as being a singularly reductive and unhelpful framing of something far more complex.

Firstly: while there's frequently overlap between racism and xenophobia, the distinction between them matters in this instance, because the primary point of American propaganda about China is that Communism Is Fundamentally Evil And Unamerican And Never Ever Works, and thinking a country's government sucks is not the same as thinking the population is racially inferior. The way most Republicans in particular talk about China, you'd think it was functionally indistinguishable from North Korea, which it really isn't. Does this mean there's no critique to be made of either communism in general or the CCP? Absolutely not! But if you've been told your whole life that communist countries are impoverished, corrupt and dangerous because Communism Never Works, and you've only really encountered members of the Chinese diaspora - i.e., people whose families left China, often under traumatic circumstances, because they thought America would be better or safer - rather than Chinese nationals, then no: it's not automatically racist to be surprised that their daily lives and standard of living don't match up with what you'd assumed. Secondly: TikTok's userbase skews young. While there's certainly Americans in their 30s and older investigating Xiaohongshu, it seems very reasonable to assume that the vast majority are in their teens or twenties - young enough that, barring a gateway interest in something like C-dramas, danmei or other Chinese cultural products, and assuming they're not of Chinese descent themselves, there's no reason why they'd know anything about China beyond what they've heard in the news, or from politicians, or from their parents, which is likely not much, and very little firsthand. But even with an interest in China, there's a difference between reading about or watching movies from a place, and engaging firsthand, in real time, with people from that place, not just through text exchanges, but in a visual medium that lets you see what their houses, markets, shopping centers, public transport, schools, businesses, infrastructure and landmarks look like. Does this mean that what's being observed isn't a curated perspective on China as determined both by Xiaohongshu's TOU and the demographic skewing of its userbase? Of course not! But that doesn't mean it isn't still a representative glimpse of a part of China, which is certainly more than most young Americans have ever had before.

Thirdly: I really need people to stop framing propaganda as something that only stupid bigots fall for, as though it's possible to natively resist all the implicit cultural biases you're raised with and exist as a perfect moral being without ever having to actively challenge yourself. To cite the sacred texts:

Like. Would the world be a better place if everyone could just Tell when they're being lied to and act accordingly? Obviously! But that is extremely not how anything actually works, and as much as it clearly discomforts some to witness, the most common way of realizing you've been propagandized to about a particular group of people is to interact with them. Can this be cringe and awkward and embarrassing at times? Yes! Will some people inevitably say something shitty or rude during this process? Also yes! But the reality is that cultural exchange is pretty much always bumpy to some extent; the difficulties are a feature, not a bug, because the process is inherently one of learning and conversation, and as individual people both learn at different rates and have different opinions on that learning, there's really no way to iron all that out such that nobody ever feels weird or annoyed or offput. Even interactions between career diplomats aren't guaranteed smooth sailing, and you're mad that random teenagers interacting through a language barrier in their first flush of enthusiasm for something new aren't doing it perfectly? Come on now.

Fourthly: Back before AO3 was banned in China, there was a period where the site was hit with an influx of Chinese users who, IIRC, were hopping over when one of their own fansites got shut down, which sparked a similar conversation around differences in site etiquette and how to engage respectfully. Which is also one of the many things that makes the current moment so deeply ironic: the US has historically criticized China for exactly the sort of censorship and redaction of free speech that led to AO3 being banned, and yet is now doing the very same thing with TikTok. Which is why what's happening on Xiaohongshu is, IMO, such an incredible cultural moment: because while there are, as mentioned, absolutely relevant things to be said about (say) Chinese censorship, US-centrism, orientalism and so on, what's ultimately happening is that, despite - or in some sense because of - the recent surge in anti-Chinese rhetoric from US politicians, a significant number of Americans who might otherwise never have done so are interacting directly with Chinese citizens in a way that, whatever else can be said of it, is actively undermining government propaganda, and that matters.

What it all most puts me in mind of, in fact, is a quote from French-Iranian novelist and cartoonist Marjane Satrapi, namely:

“The difference between you and your government is much bigger than the difference between you and me. And the difference between me and my government is much bigger than the difference between me and you. And our governments are very much the same.”

And at this particular moment in history, this strikes me as being a singularly powerful realization for Americans in particular to have.

[vamptastic]

morrocan architecture so cool so sexy so mathematically grounded so good for tropical environment <3

[sagistrology]

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲,

𝐩𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

(the following observations are kept general)

♱ cardinals breaking free from obligation, w. firm boundaries operating from the objective. cross them and you’re out. less reliant on emotion, their virtue is gone (pluto in aquarius).

♱ lilith in pisces or twelfth house in composite; getting lost in a ‘trance’, deluded perception of time. devotion and surrender. it's about healing and grieving simultaneously. no rationality, blurred boundaries.

♱ neptune conjunct ascendant can attract obsession. wired differently, connected to the immaterial. can come with them being oblivious to their appearance and vastness because it feels 'innate', very elusive and ethereal (not being attached to an identity, which draws people in). cleansing and protection are essential, both physically and mentally.

♱ def. psychic affinities, being blind to 'obsessiveness', heightened intuition. will dream, hear, see, or feel deception while the material opposes it. can be paradoxical. they often play with variations of the 'ego'.

♱ eleventh house venus; they require adrenaline, intelligence, someone unpredictable, a conversationalist. they're cool and 'aloof' when they're bored. contrary to their demeanour, they crave connection when a) stimulated, and b) intrigued. focus on the mental, blunt, confrontational (reasonably so), very objective. def. will tease you, playful.

♱ they don't want to be restricted, but craved. yearn from a distance if deemed necessary. can separate intimacy from emotion. when there's a mental and emotional connection? best believe, they will tell you.

♱ angular houses function as one's identity, and are more 'accessible', since the energies are turned outward. can be perceived as heavier due to visibility. while this has its perks, the facetted consequences of being 'known' have to be considered too.

♱ w. visibility comes vibrancy, hence envy and projection. people wanting pieces of that power. personal planets and stelliums in these houses (first, fourth, seventh, tenth) call for protection and selectiveness. what does light attract?

part II

[mymoongirlreadings]

The Birth Chart of Japan 🇯🇵🌸

Japan Birth Chart Placements 🌌:

Rising in Virgo | Sun in Aries | Moon in Leo | Mercury in Taurus | Venus in Taurus | Mars in Cancer | Jupiter in Cancer | Saturn in Sagittarius | Uranus in Leo | Neptune in Libra | Pluto in Leo

Virgo Ascendant: One of the first impressions Japan receives is that it is a highly organized country with systems that can be considered complex because the systems are designed to be highly functional with a high degree of precision. This is evident in its well-structured government, efficient public services, and emphasis on order and discipline in daily life

Mercury & Venus in Taurus: Anime is known for its artistic beauty, deep storytelling & themes/characters that go beyond the surface. The Moon (the planet of feelings & emotions) feels exalted in the sign of Taurus, and Japan has their Venus in the sign of rulership, Taurus. Taurus is a sign associated with beauty & art. Many people watch anime in its original language, Japanese, as opposed to the dubbed-over version in their own language. Many people find the Japanese language aesthetically pleasing (Mercury in Taurus is known for having an aesthetically pleasing talking voice)

Jupiter & Mars in Cancer: Japan is generally considered a family-oriented country, with a strong emphasis on family values and tradition, and deep respect for elders is a strong foundational principle taught from a young age in Japan. Cancer is connected to ancestors, and Japan has significant practices for ancestor worship; this fosters a strong connection to present and past generations (Cancer also rules over nostalgia). Jupiter represents our values on a deep, spiritual level, and Mars represents what we exert a lot of energy towards

2nd House in Libra: Japanese culture is generally known for its emphasis on harmony, respect, & politeness, and the 2nd house represents our skills, what we value, & our habits

Uranus 15° & Pluto 13° in Leo: Japan is ranked 13th globally in innovation and is considered a technologically advanced country. Whatever planet is sitting in the sign of Leo can represent where we are naturally talented and can be one of the "main ideas." Uranus rules over innovation, technology, & the future, whereas Pluto represents power

North Node in Libra & South Node in Aries: The South Node in Aries shows off how Japan in history has had fierce troops, been extremely strategic in military, & beat up countries way larger than them (Russia & China). Interestingly enough, the North Node in Libra can also show how Japan eventually surrendered the last time it was at war

PT 2: Libra rules over popularity, art, food & aesthetics; it doesn't surprise me that Japan created new laws due to the rise of popularity and surge of tourists (this happened when Japan had its nodal opposition from 2023-2024)

9th house in Taurus: Since the 9th house represents culture/religion, I'm using this house to interpret what the culture/main religions of the country are like. Taurus is the sign that is associated with the present moment & nature. Shinto (the largest religion in Japan) is a religion that focuses on harmony with nature & the present moment

Saturn trine Sun, Uranus & Pluto | Saturn sextile Neptune: Saturn is aspecting 7 different parts of the chart, mostly well-aspected at that. Saturn, seen so heavily throughout Japan's chart, explains why Japan values structure, longevity, systems that work, harmony, respect, politeness, taking responsibility for the good of its citizens, tradition, and the blend of ancient and modern influences

[0-n-1-x]

WBC!Carl Gallagher x Rich/Northside!reader

link to my masterlist <33

Your private school requires you to do community service, and you’re assigned to help out at a youth center in the Southside. It’s far from your usual environment, and you feel a bit out of place, but you’re determined to make the best of it. You could've gone to the pet center, like the other girls your age, but you desperately needed to get out of suburbia. Carl, who occasionally visits the center for free meals or to hang out, notices you the moment you walk in. You’re clearly not from around here, and he’s instantly curious about why someone like you would be spending time in his hood. At first, Carl’s interactions with you are laced with sarcasm and teasing. He pokes fun at your clean-cut appearance and the way you seem so out of your element, but there’s no real malice behind his words— mostly curiosity. I mean remember this is still Carl, just in the body of a wanna-be gangster

You actually responded to his quips just as quickly as he spoke them, but you also spoke with interest, most of it in your appearance

I'd believe that you aren't full a nepo baby, I like to headcanon that you'd be half or part southside, having spent time there young and maybe one of your parents married rich and such

But you do know how to make your words somewhat powerful, and that intrigues Carl, in a different way than trying to scam the other kids

You’re organizing supplies in the back room of the community center, stacking boxes of canned goods for the food drive. It’s your second day volunteering here, and you’re still getting used to the place. The door creaks open, and you glance up to see the same boy from yesterday leaning against the frame, watching you with an amused smirk. “You lost or something? This isn’t exactly the country club.” he says. Crossing his arms, he saunters into the room, eyes glinting with curiosity. Without missing a beat, you straighten up, brushing the dust off your hands before replying

“I could say the same thing. You don’t look like you’re here to volunteer.”

“Nah, just checking out the new blood. It’s not every day we get someone like you around here. You sure you can handle it? This place can get a little rough.”

“I’m tougher than I look. Besides, I’m not here to play it safe.”

“Is that right? Most people like you wouldn’t last a day down here. You must really be slumming it to end up in this part of town.”

"Most people like me dont come down here, but I needed something real for once"

“Real, huh? Well, you definitely found it. But be careful—get too close, and this place might suck you in.”

“Maybe I’m counting on it. I like a challenge, I guess I’ll just have to see for myself.”

He grins, finally extending a hand "Gallagher, Carl Gallagher" You reach for his hand, “Nice to meet you, Carl. Now, are you gonna help me with these boxes, or just stand there and look all pretty?”

After a few days of volunteering, (its mostly you guys talking) he invites you out with him on a 'tour'. You visit The Alibi, his corner, and he ends the trip by taking you to his house

The Gallagher house, if you could call it that, was way different than yours. Not just in size, but in functionality, you hear 3 different people screaming talking and a baby crying with loud video games noises in the background. Luckily, when Carl takes you to the basement which of course resembles what you identify as a 'mancave' there's no one there and its mostly silent

"So.. nice family uh- ya got there?" you joke, slightly uncomfortable in the bean bag he sits you on, the pleats of your plaid skirt ruffling up and you don't miss the way his eye flicker down and the way his cheeks blush peach "Um, y-yeah, it's not always like that but it usually is"

For Carl: it's weird that he's drawn to you, southside kids are literally raised to the 'eat the rich' mindset. Especially Gallaghers, but he couldn't help but want to spill everything he knows and even what he doesn't to you. So he does, he tells you about juvie, about the dysfunctionality of Gallaghers and their shit, fuck he even tells you about Monica

You guys talk for what comes across as hours. Part of him is scared that he opened up to quickly, but surprisingly you listen, without judgement. You even mention how you find some of his life similar to yours. The feelings of being ignored, or in your case paid to go away (which Carl finds not too bad).

As you speak, he moves from his beanbag chair to yours, inching and inching closer together you eventually are a breaths away from one another. You halt your speech, all your well thought out analogies fading away as you both look between the other's eyes and lips.

Carl speaks, "is it crazy.. that I find it really hot when you talk about being rich?" you pause, a sly smile reaching upon your face as you answer "no.. is it crazy that i find it really hot when you talk about being poor?"

More silence fills the room, then Carl brings his eyes straight down to your lips. "No" he whispers, as light as humanly possible

And that's when it happens. you lean in, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the rough-and-tumble image he usually projects. You close your eyes, leaning into his touch. The kiss starting out rushed, messy, and all over the place. But it's not lustful, more childish if anything and you both have no idea what you're doing.

His hand hesitantly moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. You respond in kind, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him even closer

When you finally pull back after what feels like forever, you’re both breathless, panting as your bodies gasp for air. Carl’s thumb gently returns and strokes your cheek, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. But all he finds is a soft smile and the lingering warmth of the kiss you just shared.

“Damn,” he mutters, a crooked grin spreading across his face as he leans back slightly, still keeping you close. “You’ve got me all messed up, you know that?" you respond, fixing your disheveled look.

Then it hits you, that was your first kiss

and it was with Carl fucking Gallagher

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

The new welcome home update makes my head go burr. Here, have this set of headcanons I wrote while possessed by a tiny wizard. (The tiny wizard that makes me write)

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me or leaving a tip on Ko-fi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Julie, Frank, Howdy, Poppy, Sally, Barnaby and Wally & Reader who asked them what they think about death

Julie

★ When you first bring up the topic, her grin widens, clearly unfamiliar with the word. "Death?" she repeats. "Thats a funny word! What kind of game is that?" Her eyes wide and curious. Assuming you wanted to share some new game with her.

★ As you explain its meaning, her grin softens. “So… things just stop? They don’t play anymore? Not ever? That sounds so sad.” For a moment, Julie's playful demeanor faulters. Attempting to wrap her head around such a thing. "Are you sure that's right?" You nod, feeling some guilt for breaking the news to her.

★ But Julie, being Julie, tries to bounce back. She reaches out and places her hands on yours. “Well, maybe it’s not really the end! Maybe it’s like when the flowers take a nap in the winter, and then they wake up all bright and happy in the spring!” She says, trying to comfort both herself and you.

Frank

★ He understands death more than the other neighbors. Life cycles and food chains are critical for any ecosystem to function. That he knows well. Frank even has several books about the topic! But that's different. Animals are not people. When you bring up death, he gives you an impromptu lesson about how life cycles work.

★ Frank begins by saying "death isn’t merely an end” in that factual tone he so often uses. "It's an integral part of the natural cycle!" You already know that, but let him have his fun. Educating you on a topic you're more than familiar with.

★ However, he assumed that human lives were different. You weren't an animal, bug or plant. So why would someone like you die? The thought never crossed his mind. You'll need to break the news to him as gently as possible. Good luck.

Howdy

★ When you ask him, Howdy tilts his head and looks at you for a moment. Trying to figure out if you're being serious. "Well now, usually a question like that would cost a pretty penny." You nod. "But this time" he says, pulling out a chair for you "it's on the house." With a nervous smile, He gestures for you to sit.

★ He explains it to you in the simplest way possible, like you're a child. "Death's kinda like when the store closes for the night. The lights go out, the shelves are empty, and everything goes real quiet." While speaking, he keeps his tone soft. Again, treating you like a child.

Poppy

★ "Oh! What an... Interesting question" she says. Honestly, the topic makes her a bit nervous. Nevertheless she answers you "That's what happens if you aren't careful, and... break." As she speaks, she fidgets with her wings. Showing her discomfort.

★ Her nervousness is understandable, given her tendency to avoid risks and stay in her home. Where its safe. “But, um,” she adds quickly, attempting to lighten the mood. "We just have to take good care of ourselves, and each other. So nothing bad happens to us."

Sally

★ She knows it as a plot device. "Ghosts, ghouls and other terrible monsters come from death!" Sally explains. Waiving her arms around dramatically to emphasize the point. "Why, it's simply perfect for a spooky performance, dear friend!"

★ To her, it’s less of a sad reality and more an opportunity for storytelling. It's a tool for drama. Not something to be feared or mourned. As she goes on, it's clear that Sally doesn’t fully grasp the weight of death.

Barnaby

★ Barnaby doesn't like thinking about death. When you ask him about it, he treats it like a joke. “Death, eh? Well, that’s what they call it when somebody goes to live on a farm.” His tone is light, steering the conversation away from anything too serious. “You don’t need to worry about stuff like that, kid.”

Wally

★ When you ask him what he thinks about death, he tilts his head. Trying to recall where he's heard that word. “Death?” he repeats. "it's when someone goes away, isn’t it?" If you had to guess, Barnaby told him that.

★ He never really dwelled on death before. To Wally, life in Home had always been a continuous loop of joy and games. Death was a word he’d heard in passing, but it never stuck out as something important or relevant to his little world.

★ The more he learns, the more curios he becomes. “Does it happen to everyone?” he asks with a morbid fascination. “Do they know when it’s going to happen? Or is it... a surprise?” Despite how unsettling his questions are, it’s clear he’s genuinely trying to learn.

[unteriors]

So like, I know (or rather assume) that this blog is a commentary about old and decrepit homes being sold, and how that's due to Capitalism Bad, and how it's terrible how people live/used to live in those inhumane conditions. But what's up with the posts that just show completely normal interiors, just with some old furniture? Like, a good chunk of interiors on this blog I look at and feel like they're just regular grandma/grandpa homes. They have old furniture and maybe odd lighting in the picture being shown, but they don't look dirty or badly maintained, or even necessarily "poor". Perhaps there's something I'm missing here.

The title of the blog is more a reflection of the context we exist within while looking at its content - or finding it in the first place - rather than a commentary. If you spend enough time looking through real estate listings for imagery that goes against its intended purpose, and which contains a greater insight into the world than the narrow constraints of its institutional context would ordinarily allow, then you become pretty aware of how dysfunctional and weird the entire system of financialising housing is. I live in a country with a major housing crisis (not unusual) which has an enormous industry, with cultural backing, designed to normalise the idea of treating housing as a speculative asset, with ever-increasing value backed up by government policy. To see this as good and normal and acceptable relies on people having (I think) a very superficial understanding of the world; part of my motivation for doing this is sort of recognising that this is artificial and trying to look for the more interesting reality underneath the propaganda for a dysfunctional system.

I think part of the problem here is the word 'normal.' Like what's the difference between a normal and an abormal interior? These all exist in the world. I have images on this blog of mansions as well. What I find interesting in photos of older, unrenovated houses, and of older photos of cities generally, is how they reflect a period with a completely different attitude of how housing should be allocated and of how housing policy should work (though the seeds for our present crises have been around since the 1950s). You're made aware of the chasm between that version of the welfare state and the precarious hell that many people are forced into today. Even the interior design seems to reflect a different philosophy - an increasingly bland and naive cynicism. It's a bit like how some architects seem to design buildings in a way that functions to serve their own self-promotion - bold designs more interested in promoting their own brand than in responding to the needs of their users or the broader community. I get a similar sense when you look at what's considered normal in contemporary interior design. Grey and beige sleek corporate minimalism (not sure if that is the right term) seems like financialisation itself dictating design via marketing and house flipping. Looking back at photos of untouched European houses belonging to recently-deceased baby boomers feels like walking through catacombs by comparison.

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - five (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. four | five | six | series masterlist 🔗read on ao3 ✨across stardust pinterest board

note: part five got away from me, so there will now be a part six which will end wrap up this story. this chapter is deeply emotional and full of moments that i truly hope everyone loves, though it's a bit of a plot direction i'm not sure anyone expected. additional notes at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers. thank you all for your love and support on this fic, it means the world.

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, anxiety/nerves, lots of angst, lots of tears, mentions of functional vs. dysfunctional families, alcohol consumption (not heavy), needy/rough sex, sex with no prep, clothed sex, oral sex f!receiving, mention of handjobs, romantic af sex, lots and lots and lots of praise/ possessive petnames (i.e. 'my love', 'my baby'), overuse of jagiya, basically they're soooo fucking happy to be back together

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 15.7k

It’s been too long since you’ve had a cup of Em’s herbal tea, that you’re sure of when you take the first long sip, cozied in the corner of their sofa and looking out the window at the little greenhouse patio room where Em tends to all her plants. It’s been five days since you left Seoul, and all you’ve heard from anyone is a single text message from Iseul that made your stomach roll. 

I’m sorry - I’ll call you as soon as I can. 

You had left your best friend a voicemail while Hana drove out of the city, short but to the point. You can remember the words perfectly - The company knows, things are bad and I’m going to Hana’s for a little while. Please tell him where I am, tell him I’m waiting. 

The single text and the silence after that has left you feeling untethered for days. 

The bond with Yunho has stayed mostly quiet. You can still feel him, his presence inside you will never fade, but he feels flat, shut down. It reminds you of that day in the airport, the way you seemed to lose connection with him when he steeled himself for the experience of being mobbed by fans. You wonder how much effort it takes him to mute his own emotions like this, you wonder if he can still feel you and the way you’ve cried yourself to sleep every night since you were fired. 

A breeze passes through the open window in the greenhouse, leaves swaying and shuddering with the air, and you hear the sound of the watering can, of Em’s house slippers on the slate flooring. 

For a brief moment, you picture a little house like this in the countryside. 

Yunho somewhere in the kitchen, your flowers in the garden, and little hands beside yours in the dirt. 

Your chest throbs, and you push yourself up to your feet before the quiet of the house lets you daydream anymore about a future that feels so much farther away than it did five days ago. 

Em turns as you step down into the greenhouse, and you tap the side of your cup, “I think this blend is the best you’ve done,” 

Em smiles, her kind face always putting you right at ease, “Yeah?” 

You nod, taking another sip, “What’s in this one?” 

“A mix,” She replies, “holy basil, lemongrass, dandelion root and nettle,” 

You wouldn’t know the difference between one herb and another, but Em does and she recites the ingredients in a way that calms you and takes your mind right back to the present and away from wandering, painful thoughts of the future. 

“Oh,” She nods, gesturing towards a large pot, “and gingko leaf,” 

“Mm,” You nod. 

Em finds a pair of shears and holds them out handle-side towards you. 

“Putting me to work?” You smile, setting your cup of tea to the side. 

“Hana’s cooking soon,” She nods and gestures towards a large box of pepper plants, “we need five or six of those,” 

“Sure,” 

It’s quiet for a moment as you assess the ripeness of the shishitos and while Hana refills her watercan from a hose in the corner, but when you start to clip a few off their leafy green plant, a voice catches you from the doorway. 

 “Should we take a trip?” Hana’s brightness fills the space, your sister always one to throw an idea at the wall and see if it will stick.

“A trip?” You blink. 

“Jeju, maybe?” She offers, looking between you and Em. 

“I’m unemployed, Hana,” You know she’s just trying to make you feel better, but your heart sinks and you scrub a hand over your tired face, “I should probably get a job.” 

“It hasn’t even been a week,” She says, “what you need is a break.” 

“Han,” You sigh, “I told you, Iseul knows where I am, which means he knows where I am. I can’t just leave.” 

Em is quiet behind you, but you hear her set down the watering can and exhale softly. 

“Iseul, the girl who ratted you out?” Hana says, her voice a little sharper than it was the last time she asked this question.

“I told you already,” You shake your head, “they lied about that.” 

Your sister’s jaw tightens and relaxes, like she’s trying to keep herself from saying something. It’s been days of this. When you got to the house you poured the whole story out in a wash of tears, and ever since Hana has been upset at the wrong things and the wrong people. Em has been your calm constant, always a listener first, careful not to assume. 

“I just think he should have found a way to call you,” Hana says, sinking into the doorframe and her eyes softening to something you can only describe as pity, “and I still don’t think you can trust Iseul, but after five days how hard is it to pick up a phone?” 

“Han,” You chest aches, “Hana, I really can’t hear this,” 

“I think you might need to hear it,” She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest, “I think you’re just sitting here in pain while he could do something about it,” 

“Baby,” Em finally speaks up, shaking her head in your peripheral vision at her wife. 

“I know, I know,” Hana says, “I’m just worried about you, I’ve never seen you like this and I know he has a very important job or whatever, but you’re,” 

Your heart lurches, “Hana, I love you, but you do not know what this industry is like.” 

“I just,” 

“When they want to,” You continue, “they control every facet of your life. Yunho’s in trouble because of us, I’m not angry with him, I’m worried about him. If he hasn’t called me, I promise you he has a reason and I’m not going farther away from him while this is happening,” 

She lets out a dejected breath of air, “Fine,” 

“Iseul will call,” You add, “I don’t blame anybody but the company,” 

“And if,” Hana starts to say. 

“Let’s not,” Em interrupts smoothly, “y/n, how are those peppers coming?” 

You blink, the sheers and the peppers in your hands forgotten with the sudden presence of your sister, “Uh,” you clear your throat, “good,” 

“Great,” Em smiles widely and lightens the mood, “Han, baby, I’m getting hungry. Can we start the meat?” 

Hana’s lips close into a little line and then she exhales slowly through her nose before nodding, “Yeah, I’ll get it going,” 

“Great, we’ll be in soon,” Em says with gentle authority. 

Hana nods, disappearing around the corner and you let out a heavy sigh, letting your eyes go unfocused again on the plant in front of you. 

After a moment, Em rests a gentle hand on your back, “You know I love your sister, but when she makes up her mind about something,” 

You nod as Em trails off, “She’s wrong about this though,” 

Em hums in understanding and takes the shears out of your hands to finish clipping the remaining peppers off their vine. 

“Something isn’t right,” You explain quietly, “I can feel him, but it’s so distant, he wouldn’t be pushing me away if there wasn’t a good reason,” 

“I believe you,” Em replies. 

“I want Hana to understand,” You confess, “I don’t want her to hate him,” 

Em leans in, wrapping her arms around you in a hug and you let her, biting the inside of your lip to keep your emotions in check for what feels like the hundredth time today, “She won’t,” Em says softly, “but she loves you and needs to make sure her big sister is okay, okay?” 

You nod. 

“I’ll talk to her,” She says as she steps back out of the hug, “but for now, let’s go make dinner. Let’s open a bottle of wine and just forget about it for tonight. If you say Iseul will call, she’ll call. If you say he’s going to come for you, he will, but waiting for it is making you sick. Let’s let it go for a little while,” 

Thick emotion sits lodged in your throat, but you manage a nod, “Okay,” 

“Okay,” She smiles, cupping your cheek for a moment and wiping away a single stray tear, “come on,” 

You follow her into the kitchen, where Hana has already started laying out cutting boards and pulling ingredients out of the fridge, but when you cross into the room she drops the bundle of green onions onto the counter and walks over to you, throwing her arms around you. 

“Oh,” You hug her back, your eyes connecting with Em across the room who gives you a soft shrug and a knowing smile. 

“I’m sorry,” Hana squeezes you, “I didn’t mean to make you upset again,” 

“It’s alright,” You murmur, “I just want you to trust me,” 

“I trust you,” She sighs, “I do,” 

You expect a ‘but’, a follow up, something about how no matter how much she trusts you she doesn’t trust the people who made you feel this way, but if Hana thinks it, this time she holds her tongue. 

At the sharp sound of a cork pulling free from a wine bottle, you both separate and turn towards Em who holds up a sizable bottle of red. 

“Come on,” She says finding some glasses, “let’s get drunk,” 

The tension in the room diffuses, and for the first time in days the knot between your shoulders loosens. 

Em pours the wine, Hana sparks the flame on the gas stove, and you slide into place at the cutting board to start prepping vegetables. Within fifteen minutes, the warmth of the wine works its way into your system, Em has thrown a vinyl on the turntable and turned up the volume, and Hana is in her element with the stirfry. 

You don’t see Iseul’s first call or her second, the music in the kitchen is too loud and you’re in the middle of your first real and good laugh since the firing, your phone forgotten on the island entirely. It isn’t until you’re walking past to get a look at the recipe on Hana’s phone that you see yours light up again with Iseul’s name and you hastily wipe your hands on your apron and reach for it. 

You almost drop it as you fish it off the table, and Hana and Em go quiet as they watch you fumble to answer. There’s a single second of doubt, a moment of fear in your stomach about what she’s going to say, but you push it aside and pick up, “Hello?” 

“y/n?” Iseul sounds relieved. 

“Hey,” it’s all you can manage, and despite Hana’s nervous expression, you walk straight out of the kitchen to a quieter part of the house to finally, finally find out what’s been going on at home in Seoul. 

“I know what they told you,” Iseul starts, her voice a little emotional, “but I swear to god, I didn’t tell anyone about you and Yunho.” 

“I know,” You breathe, but you’re still relieved to hear her say it and the words come out in a sigh.

“It was Eunji,” 

That gets your attention. 

At the far side of the house you lean against the stairs until you’re sinking down onto them, disbelief in your voice, “Eunji?” 

You weren’t as close with her as you were with Iseul, but you were still on the same team. You considered her your friend, you would have never done something like this to her. 

“She saw you and Yunho together,” She explains, “she overheard us talking too, I didn’t know she had, she just… she put some things together, jumped to conclusions,” 

“And she just reported us? Just like that?” 

“It’s, yeah,” Iseul takes a breath. 

“I don’t even know what she saw, what she thinks she knows,” Your gut clenches in disbelief, in anger. 

“I think half of it was guessing, half of it lies. Saving her own skin,” Iseul says. 

“Her own skin?” 

“She’s been on a probationary action plan, apparently,” Iseul informs you, “she posted something on social media a few months ago that accidentally disclosed the members’ location, she got reprimanded and warned.” 

“Fuck,” You blink, “I had no idea,”

“No one did,” She continues, “she sold you out to make herself look better,” 

“Iseul,” You breathe, dropping your head into your hands, “what about Yunho?” 

She’s quiet for a moment, but then she says, “It’s been bad here.” 

Alarm shoots through you, “Is he alright?” 

“They took his phone,” She explains, “they’re watching him and the other members like hawks, it’s like they’re rookies again.” 

You swallow tightly. 

“The staff was told you were let go for budget,” She goes on, “which kind of backfired on them. Everyone’s speculating who’s next. With how weird it’s been… I just didn’t know what happened in the meeting, I didn’t want to reach out and make something worse if something was going on legally,” 

“Oh,” 

“I talked to Yunho this morning,” She says and you straighten up, “he told me what happened, he told me what they said about you and that I was the one who… and Eunji was acting weird, sneaky, I’m just sorry I didn’t call before,” 

“I know, it’s okay, I’m okay,” You breathe. 

“No,” She manages, “I should have called,” 

“Iseul, please,” You shake your head, “I don’t care about that anymore,” 

She sighs, and then she says something else, her voice low enough that you wonder where she is and if someone could overhear her side of things, “They’re working on a plan,” she says, “he’s not giving up, and the members are with him.” 

Relief fills your chest, “They are?” 

“Yunho said they’re moving fast,” 

Heat wells in your eyes, the start of tears, “Okay,” 

“We didn’t have much time to talk, but he said soon,” 

You nod, your hand tightening on your thigh as you get your emotions in check, “How did he seem? How is he?” 

”Not good, babe,” She admits, “he’s… it’s obvious he’s not sleeping or eating.” 

“I need to come home,” You breathe.

 “No,” She insists, “not yet,” 

“Iseul,” You massage a tight spot of anxiety on your chest. 

“He said he knows you’re far, he can feel that you’re not in Seoul,” She continues, “when I told him you were with Hana he looked so relieved,” 

Your eyes press shut. 

“Listen,” She murmurs, “I have a letter for you,” 

“A letter?” You take a deep breath. 

“He asked me not to read it, just to get it to you. I mailed it to Hana’s this morning,” She says softly. 

It feels like a lifeline.

“I know this is bad right now,” She says, “but tell me you’re okay,” 

“I don’t know,” You offer, “tell me this is going to work out?” 

“It’s going to work out,” She insists, “you’re not here, but people aren’t happy. Everyone has questions about your firing, even managers are asking questions. One of the security officers said the way KQ handled it didn’t sit right,” 

“Are you serious?” Your eyes widen. 

“People love you here,” She reminds you, “you’re family. I don’t know what happened in that room, but this is not going away like they want. You just have to stay strong.” 

You wipe the threat of tears away and nod, “I want to come home,” 

“I know,” She murmurs, “but trust him, I’ve never seen the members this serious. Something’s happening, something big,” 

“I trust him,” You breathe, “I trust you,” 

“We’ve got you,” She says, her voice stronger than how you’ve felt in days, “you’re coming home.” 

For the first time in five days, you feel a real moment of hope. 

“Babe,” She takes a sharp breath, “I am, I really… I’m so sorry,” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” 

“I didn’t tell them,” She says, “but Eunji still heard something from me, if I had just,” 

“You didn’t do anything that Yunho and I didn’t do ten times over,” You brush her guilt away, “sneaking off at the office, finding little ways to be together. We couldn’t help ourselves, and here we are. If it wasn’t her it would have been someone else, but you kept our secret, you didn’t do this,” 

She’s quiet for a moment and then she makes a soft sound to clear her throat, “You’re my best friend,” 

“You’re mine,” You reply automatically. 

“Listen,” She says, “I’ve got to go, I don’t want anyone to walk in and overhear, but look for the letter. He said the plan’s in there. Stay strong, and I’ll text you and keep you updated, we’re gonna figure this out.” 

You grab onto that thought with both hands, “Okay,” 

“I love you, girl,” She says softly. 

“Love you too,” 

When the call ends, emotion floods your chest. You're terrified, relieved, grateful, hopeful, all of it at once for the first time in days. It took a while, but you finally know the truth of what you always believed, Yunho’s fighting for you, just like he promised he would. 

Now you just have to wait. 

It takes two days, but his letter finally arrives. 

For two days you prepared yourself for what he could have written. You packed your bags for Seoul, you texted endlessly with Iseul, and you tried to find every chore under the sun around the house to help Hana and Em with to keep your mind off the impending something that was coming in the mail. 

When the post finally pushes through the mail slot in the door on the second day after your call, you run to get it, searching through the pile of papers until you see a manila envelope with your name on it. It feels like the sweetest relief, yesterday’s mail just bills and junk, a little bit of heartbreak even though you knew logically mail from Seoul would take longer than a single day.

But it’s here now, safely in your hands. You sink back against the door and tear it open, getting to the sealed letter inside, Yunho’s messy handwriting instantly identifiable. With shaking hands you let the rest of the mail fall to the floor and you pull open the crisp white envelope to get at the folded sheet of paper inside. 

y/n -

I love you, this first always. 

Tears spill over and you blink hard to clear your vision before you start the letter over again. 

y/n - 

I love you, this first always. You must hate me for this silence, for how long it’s been, but please remember I love you and I promise everything I’m doing now I do for you. You’re my heart, you are in me always. 

There’s so much to say, but I’ll do it in person. I have a plan, and the members are standing beside us. After they took you away, they made it clear that any contact with you from any of the members would mean a breach of contract. They still don’t know that we’ve already started working on negotiations, they think they caught us unprepared. Our outside attorney has been quietly advising us these past few days through Hongjoong, and we’ve put together all the plans and paperwork. It didn’t happen like it was supposed to, but we are going to push harder for renegotiation, and you’re a part of that. There’s so much to explain, so much legal jargon I’ve been researching for days, but we’re almost ready and all the risks seem worth it if you and I are together at the end of this.

I wish I could see you now, apologize for everything that happened. What they did to you was wrong, not just how they treated you as a person, but legally. I will explain it all when we see each other, but I have hope now and so should you. 

We’ve organized a meeting, and I hope you’ll come. Thursday, at ten after our schedules we will be staying late for more practice and meeting secretly with the attorney in person. Monday morning we have a meeting with our CEO. I am fighting for us, and I need you by my side. I don’t know where you are, but I feel it in my body that it’s not here, not home. I’m asking Iseul to get this letter to you, and I’m asking you to trust me. 

Please come home to me. I’m ready to fight for us, I’m ready for our story to start. 

I love you, I’ll never stop. 

Yours. 

By the time you’re finished reading, your hands are shaking, tears tracking down your cheeks.

With the letter clutched in your hand your heart feels like it’s finally beating to the right rhythm again.

“Hana,” You call into the depths of the house, scrubbing away your tears “I need a ride to Seoul!”

One more day, just one. 

Tomorrow, you’ll be back in his arms. 

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

The drive home feels longer than ever. 

It’s raining when you make it to the KQ studio space, a heavy dark downpour that leaves Hana driving slowly through deep puddles to get into the familiar parking garage. It’s fairly empty, it always is in the evening after eight or nine, so you’re able to park inconspicuously but still close to the lower access doors. 

Everything feels like the plot of a film, clandestine meetings and back door business deals. 

By the time Hana engages the parking brake, your heart is pounding in your chest. You breathe through it, unbuckling your seatbelt and hastily smoothing down your hair before pressing a hand to your anxious chest. 

Hana kills the ignition and twists in her seat, “We’re coming in with you,” 

“Yeah?” Your eyebrows raise. 

“I’m meeting him,” She nods, “and you need backup.” 

Em nods from the backseat and rests a warm hand on your shoulder, “You’re not going in alone.” 

Your phone buzzes in your hands and you nod before you see the text you’ve been waiting for from Iseul. 

“She’s downstairs,” You say, “let’s go,” 

Quietly, you all exit the car, waiting for only the briefest moment by the lower door. Iseul pops her head out as the heavy industrial door swings open and you rush forwards. 

She tugs you into a hug once you’re all safely inside and you can already feel the rising tide of emotion and nerves flooding through you. 

“Hey,” Iseul manages, her voice cracking, “I’m so fucking happy to see you,” 

“Me too,” You breathe back the rush of tears. 

“Everyone’s upstairs,” She says as you break apart, “are you ready?” 

“Ready for what?” You manage, “Yunho’s letter wasn’t clear on the specifics,” 

“Shit,” She says, “okay you’re going to want to take a deep breath.” 

“Why?” You glance to your sister. 

“There’s a lot of people here, it’s going to be fine though,” Iseul tells you, hitting the button for the elevator. 

“As long as he’s here I really don’t care if you have the entire National Assembly upstairs,” 

Iseul laughs softly, “I’ll remember you said that,” she says, and then she turns to acknowledge your family, “hi Hana, hi Em, I’m so glad you’re both here,” 

“Of course,” Hana says as the elevator doors open, “we’re here for whatever she needs,” 

Iseul smiles warmly as you all step into the elevator. 

As the doors close, you can hear them still talking - small talk about the rain, the drive to Seoul, but you can’t take it in. For the first time in days, you can feel him close again, and your heart picks up inside your chest. You don’t care what’s in store for you here, as long as you can see him again, feel his touch, as long as he’s still your center. 

The minute the doors open your feet start carrying you forwards, just a quick walk down the hall and into the studio space you know so well. Past the room where they do their dance practices is a series of smaller studios, offices, and a conference room with a large lobby in the center. You don’t need Iseul to tell you where he is, you feel the pull of him, and you follow it all the way down the corridor and around the corner into the main space. 

There’s other people here but you don’t take in a single soul except Yunho. He’s waiting for you, standing tall in the center of the lobby and watching for you, and the moment you round the corner and meet his eyes he’s moving. 

Your bag falls from your shoulder to the floor and you rush forwards to meet him.

He scoops you up like he has to touch you, pulling you into his arms in a desperate embrace, and finally the feeling inside you snaps. A relieved sob bubbles up from your throat and you bury your face into his shoulder, clinging to his sweatshirt. 

“You’re here,” He manages, his head pressed against yours. 

You nod, tightening your arms around his shoulders, “I missed you,” 

He makes a small, shuddering sound, his hand cupping the back of your head tenderly, and then all at once whatever walls he had maintained for days crumble to the ground. You feel him, his emotions, his mind, it all crashes into you. You know in a rush what he’s been dealing with for days. Unadulterated fear for you, shame in himself, betrayal, grief, and all encompassing anger. But beneath that, laced through every inch, is fierce determination and love, full and timeless for you. 

He breathes out in a shudder of relief before pulling back so he can see your face, smoothing back your hair to look at you, to love you, “Hi,” he murmurs softly. 

“Hi,” You touch his cheek as a smile spreads over his face. 

He looks tired, like stress has run him ragged since you’ve been gone, but he’s real and he’s solid under your touch. 

Behind you, Iseul gently clears her throat, and it breaks the spell. Glancing to either side you realize for the first time you’re not alone with him. 

“Yunho,” You murmur, “what’s going on?”

He nods, “Right, of course,” 

He’s hesitant to put you down, that you can feel, but he sets you back on your feet and chooses to hold your hand instead, fingers laced together tightly. 

His skin feels so right. 

Yunho straightens up, “Um,” he exhales, “okay there’s a lot to tell you,” 

“Hey, y/n,” Wooyoung says from a few feet away and you grin when you see him and all the members off to the side, looking a little emotional themselves. 

“Hey,” You feel so dizzy with happiness to be back here, to see so many faces you’d spent the last five years with. 

You look past them and around the lobby and your chest tightens, it’s more than just the members. You recognize managers, and you hear additional voices down the hall where you know there’s a kitchenette. You hear the sound of the espresso machine, and to the right of the hall, you can see more figures behind the frosted glass walls of the conference room. 

“Yunho,” You breathe. 

Iseul said there would be a lot of people here, and she wasn’t kidding. 

“I’ll explain everything soon,” He says, running his hands up and down your arms, “but everyone here is here to help us, to support us,” 

“Your managers,” Your eyes dart that way again. 

“Don’t agree with what’s happened at all,” He says firmly, “they’re like family to us, they didn’t want all of us to be treated this way,” 

“Everyone knows?” Your eyebrows raise. 

“Everyone here does,” He nods, “it’s all part of the plan for Monday,” 

Your head is spinning already, “I don’t,” 

“I promise I’ll explain,” He reiterates, “do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” 

“Then trust me,” He murmurs, “I promise, we’re going to be okay.” 

He’s so solid, so confident, and you blink back a hazy mist of tears, nodding to him. 

Yunho squeezes your hands and then he nods towards the doorway, “This must be Hana,” 

You remember yourself then, pulling him over, “God, I’m sorry,” you tell her, “yes, Hana and Em, this is Yunho.” 

Yunho bows deeply, and tight emotion catches in your throat, “Thank you both for taking care of her,” he says, “it’s… I’m honored to meet you. y/n speaks of you so warmly, I’m so glad to have you both here for us.” 

Em smiles widely, nudging her wife, “We’re so happy to meet you,” 

Hana nods, looking between the two of you, “Same,” he says, her eyes watering, “oh fuck, I’m going to cry already,” 

Yunho smiles. 

Em squeezes Hana’s shoulders and smoothly takes over, “It looks like you have a plan?” 

Yunho nods, “Yes, the short version is that we’re all set to do the final review of the renegotiations and prepare to speak with our CEO on Monday,” 

Your eyes flick to the board room, “Your attorney’s here?” 

He nods, “Ready to walk us through the paperwork and confirm the plan,” 

“And y/n’s involvement?” Hana clears her throat. 

“She’s part of everything,” Yunho says calmly, turning to you, “we’ll go over it in detail, but we want things fixed for you too, not just our contracts.” 

You nod. 

“There’s more to it than that, but,” He looks a little nervous, a brief flicker of it in his chest, but he shifts his attention back to your sister, “will you both stay? I know it’s late, but,” 

“We’re here,” Em nods. 

“Thank you,” He smiles, “there’s a kitchen that way, bathrooms down the hall to the left, and plenty of couches. Can I get you anything?” 

Hana and Em both shake their heads. 

“Yunho,” Hongjoong’s voice breaks your attention and you both look to the side, “we’re ready to start,” 

The members are filing into the boardroom and your heart seems to pound faster in your chest. 

“We’ll be right here,” Hana assures you, “come get us if you need us,” 

All you can do is nod. 

“Ready?” Yunho wraps his arm around you, this time steering you in the direction of the board room.

”As I can be,” You admit, “I still don’t know what’s going on,” 

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, “and there is something else,” 

You look up to him and he grimaces lightly. 

“My family’s here,” He says softly. 

“What?” Shock spreads through you. 

“They came up when I told them what was happening, and they brought some paperwork I needed from home,” He sums up quickly, “a lot is going to happen over the next few days, and I needed them here,” 

“You’re scaring me a little,”  

“It’s okay,” He smiles, “I swear, trust me, remember?” 

Anxiety tumbles in your gut as you round the corner into the conference room. Too much was happening, an overwhelming wave of information and whatever this meeting was would be no better you’re sure of that. 

But Yunho’s hand is in yours, his heartbeat steady. 

If nothing else is true in the world, you trust this man. 

The conference table is a long, expensive looking walnut right for a business meeting, and Yunho walks you to two middle seats saved just for you both. The members circle on either side of you, and across the table you’re face to face with Hongjoong and a sharp looking man in a suit who you can only assume is their attorney. Their managers sit in extra office chairs that have been wheeled into the room, and you’re acutely aware that every pair of eyes in the room is on you and Yunho. 

“Alright,” The attorney begins, “you must be y/n, I’m Attorney Choi,” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” You nod your head. 

“And you,” He smiles, and there’s genuine warmth in it, “everyone’s told me good things,” 

Heat pricks at your cheeks. 

He slides a few folders in front of himself and takes a quick sip of water. Your stomach tightens, remembering the folder packed full of lies from the last time you were in a KQ office. 

Yunho’s hand smooths up and down your spine. 

“Now,” Attorney Choi says, “let’s get started, we have a coup to plan,” 

Your hands clasp together under the table, and you swallow nervously. 

“Joong,” Yunho prompts softly, and you watch Hongjoong nod. 

“Right,” He says, “y/n, I’m sure Yunho told you this part but Monday we are meeting with the CEO and we have some options.” 

You nod, and Yunho’s hand continues the slow comforting line up and down your back. 

“We have adjusted contracts ready,” He explains, “it includes everything we’ve agreed on as eight members. I’ll let Yunho talk you through those details later, but the most important thing for this conversation is that all romantic entanglement clauses are to be dropped immediately.” 

“With everything you’re negotiating for,” You glance between Hongjoong and Yunho, “do you expect they will agree or not?” 

Attorney Choi interjects smoothly, “They won’t, but we have a prepared list of changes and adjustments. Companies need to feel like they’re winning, like they’re getting the best part of the deal, so we’ll make them believe that.” 

You nod. 

“We also have separate documentation that concerns you,” Yunho says. 

Attorney Choi once again jumps in, “Miss y/n,” he says, tapping a small stack of papers on the tabletop to line them up before sliding them over to you, “please review these. We intend to assert on your behalf that your termination was not only harassment, but unlawful.” 

Your eyes skim the page at rapid speed and you can’t take in everything, but certain words jump out at you - misogynistic language, discrimination, libel, unfounded accusations, the list goes on. 

“This we want you to explicitly agree to,” Hongjoong says, “we won’t pursue it if you’re not comfortable.” 

Quickly you flip through the pages, glancing at Yunho, “You’ve read this?” 

“Carefully,” He assures you. 

You swallow, letting the papers fall closed so you can look up again, “I don’t want this to interfere with your ability to get a positive outcome in the negotiation.” 

Hongjoong shakes his head, “You getting your job back is a positive outcome,” 

“When push comes to shove,” Their attorney offers, “the courts don’t rule favorably for women in cases like these, I won’t lie to you.” 

Yunho turns to watch you, his eyes studying your expression, but you simply nod, “I know.” 

“That being said,” He continues, “no company wants this kind of story in the media or to spend time in court arguing the finer points of sexism. We use this to get your job back as part of the negotiation, and to give your relationship status with Mr. Jeong immunity,” 

“I’ll do it,” You nod. 

“You should read it through,” Hongjoong starts but you shake your head, turning to Yunho. 

“You’ve read it, what do you think?” 

He takes your hand, “It’s not without risk,” he says honestly, “but it’s our best option for keeping your name and your job in the negotiation process. I don’t want you left behind by whatever this this turns into,” 

You squeeze his hand, “I trust you.” 

He nods, the weight of that trust not lost on him, his thumb grazing slowly over your knuckles.

You turn back to Hongjoong, “I’ll do it,” 

He smiles a little and then nods, “Alright,” 

“What happens if they say no to everything?” You ask, “What happens if they don’t want to negotiate at all?” 

Hongjoong looks around the table at his members, and then finally back to you, “We are prepared to walk away from KQ if that happens.” 

Your stomach drops like lead, “What?” 

Hongjoong clears his throat, “For a long time, we’ve discussed the future after this company. KQ has taken care of us up until now, but we won’t tolerate a hostile work environment.” 

You grip Yunho’s hand harder.

“Mingi and I have talked about our own label since before debut,” He says and your eyes widen, “we always planned to do it someday, but if these negotiations go poorly, we are prepared to walk away as a group and rebuild under a new label, our own label.” 

“But,” You flounder, “The money,” 

Hongjoong nods, “It’s no small thing,” he agrees, “you’re right, but we’ve run the numbers. We can pay the debts we owe, and wash our hands of this company if we have to.”

You look to Yunho. 

“Our families,” He says softly, “many of them have agreed to become primary investors in the label,” 

Your eyes sting with tears, “But, that’s… this is too risky,” 

“It is risky,” Hongjoong says, “but it is a risk we are all willing to take together for the sake of all of our happiness and success.” 

You cover your mouth with your free hand, shock in every inch of your system. 

“In all likelihood,” Attorney Choi offers, “your CEO is a pragmatic man. At the potential of losing their only senior group publicly, they will meet our demands. Their wallets would not easily recover from that level of revenue loss, that is a risk I am confident they are not willing to take.” 

You let that sink in.

”They need us more than we need them,” Hongjoong says, “that we are all sure of.” 

You nod, your voice a little hoarse from the shock, “What more do you need from me?” 

“Right now, nothing,” Their attorney says, “be available if we need you to speak to KQ leadership directly, but otherwise your signature on a few documents will be enough.” 

“You won’t need to talk to them,” Yunho asserts. 

“I’ll do whatever it is you need me to do,” You tell them honestly. 

Attorney Choi nods, “Then let’s begin and review the plan for Monday,” 

Everyone nods, and you look at Yunho to see if you should leave, give them space to discuss the minutiae of contracts, but he holds your hand steady. 

The review takes over an hour, and the plan is layered and detailed. Their attorney will do the talking in the meeting, and state their intent to renegotiate immediately. He’ll cover the high points of their requests, and position things carefully where your firing and mistreatment is concerned. Management will be present to lend their support, all members will be there to personally state their own commitment to renegotiation or termination, and you will be patiently waiting by the phone. 

By the end your head is throbbing, every facet of the plan peeled open and examined to ensure the right outcome, but where they’ve all had over a week to come to terms with this plan, you’ve digested it at lightning speed. 

“It’s late,” Attorney Choi finally says, “this weekend get some rest where you can, this may be a long fight ahead.” 

It’s nearly midnight, and your head is fuzzy. You have an overwhelming urge to just sink into Yunho’s chest and beg him to take you home, but everyone’s still discussing little details amongst themselves and your head spins from all the information. 

“I feel good about it,” San says, standing and stretching, “not to be too confident too soon,” 

“Optimistic,” Seonghwa offers. 

Yunho nods in agreement, but you watch his hand nervously tighten and release as he stands. 

“Tomorrow we’ll,” Mingi trails off and then clears his throat “well, you’ll let us know,” 

Yunho nods, eyes flicking to you for a brief second, “I’ll text you,” 

Mingi smiles, “Alright,” 

Yunho’s hands slide over your shoulders and he gives you a squeeze, “Ready?” 

“Yeah,” You have to fight back a yawn, but you thank the attorney profusely before you turn to follow Yunho. 

When you make it to the door though, he pauses and wraps an arm around you, “Listen, I know it’s late, but I have a few people to introduce you to,” 

For a split second you don’t make sense of his words, but as you come out of the conference room and back into the lobby with the wide couches, it all clicks back into place. Sitting in the center of the room is Hana and Em on one couch, with Iseul perched delicately on the arm, and across from them on the opposite couch is an older couple and a young man in his early twenties that looks so similar to Yunho you think for a moment your sleepy brain is playing a trick on you until you remember his family is here. 

Iseul looks to you, and smiles, gesturing as subtly as possible for you to take a deep breath. 

Your eyes widen a little, and then Yunho steers you right into the conversational fray. 

“Baby,” He squeezes your shoulder, “I want you to meet my family,” 

You would have known it without him telling you. Now that you’re right in front of them it’s even more obvious, Yunho is the near spitting image of his father, though he’s a few inches taller, and Yunho’s brother is a younger, lankier, and tanner version of him, all three of them with the same kind smiles. His mother, though, you see Yunho’s eyes the moment you look at her. 

“Oh,” You breathe, and suddenly you wish you had worn something different or done absolutely anything to your hair. 

Those thoughts barely last though, because Yunho’s mother pushes her son aside to wrap her arms around you. 

“Eomma,” Yunho chastises softly, “let her breathe,” 

“Shush,” She says leaning back to look at you, her hands on your cheeks, “I’m meeting my new daughter,” 

Hot tears rush up in your eyes, spilling over onto your cheeks, “I don’t know what to say,” you manage, “I’m so happy to meet you,”

“So are we,” She smooths your tears away, a motherly gesture that makes your heart lurch, and then she nods, “he said you were pretty,” 

“Eomma,” Yunho’s arm wraps around you again, effectively shifting you back into his embrace, “give her some air,” 

“It’s good to meet you,” Yunho’s father nods, “Yunho’s been talking of nothing else,” 

Gunho snorts a laugh at his big brother’s expense, and when you glance up you see the pink blush on his cheeks, the redness of his ears. 

You open your mouth to respond, but Yunho gives your shoulder a squeeze, “I see you met y/n’s family, I’m sorry, I should have done introductions before,” 

Yunho’s father waves his hand, “We’re fine, how was the meeting?” 

Yunho nods, “Productive,” 

“You all have a consensus?” He asks. 

“We’re set,” Yunho replies. 

“That’s good,” Yunho’s father replies, “any contract changes?” 

Yunho shakes his head, “All the same as before,” 

He nods and then meets your gaze, “How do you feel about the language for your suit? Comfortable?”

“Oh,” Your eyes widen a little. 

“Ah,” Yunho interjects, “I had our family attorney look everything over too, just to make sure I understood everything,” 

“I see,” You smile, warmth in your chest at how attentive he’s been, but you look back up to his father, “but yes, I’m good, I’m comfortable with everything,” 

“Good,” He nods, “if you have questions during the process, we can help with that too.” 

“Thank you so much,” You hope you don’t seem too surprised at the overwhelming kindness of his parents, but you are, despite all of Yunho’s stories about them. 

“For tomorrow,” His mother interjects, but Yunho smoothly cuts her off. 

“I haven’t gotten to talk her through everything yet,” Yunho says, “but I’ll let you know,” 

Her lips close in a small smile. 

Gunho glances up from his phone at his brother with a look on his face you can’t place. 

“Actually,” Yunho’s father turns to his wife, “yeobo, can you check something for me?” 

Yunho’s parents turn to each other briefly, but Yunho turns his head towards you and keeps his voice low, “You okay?” 

“I thought the meeting was Monday,” You ask your question as softly as possible, “why does everyone keep asking about tomorrow?” 

He gives you a fast, close lipped smile, “I have to talk to you about something,” 

Your heart gives a little lurch, “Yunho,” 

“Just,” His eyes dart from your face back up to his family, “one second,” 

He steps away, leaving you feeling suddenly adrift again, but as soon as he’s gone, Hana steps into your space. 

“Hey,” She says, “Em and I are going to head to your place,” 

“Okay,” You blink, “yeah,” 

“You’re staying with Yunho, right?” She checks. 

“I don’t,” You stumble a little over your words, “we didn’t talk about tonight, really,”

“We can wait,” Hana says. 

“No, it’s late,” 

Hana nods, but looks hesitant to leave if you need her. 

“Go,” You tell her with a smile, “I’ll be fine, there’s extra bedding in my linen closet upstairs just make yourselves comfortable. If I end up coming home I’ll crash on the couch.” 

“And you’re okay?” Em checks as she slips her jacket on. 

“I’m good,” You promise, “Yunho said there’s more for us to talk about, but you don’t have to wait for that.” 

Hana hesitates, and then she nods, “Call me if something’s up,” 

“I will,” 

They start to step away, Yunho still close to his family and talking to his parents quietly, but Hana interjects smoothly with a quick tap to Yunho’s arm. 

“We’re heading out for now,” She says and nods in your direction, “you’ve got her, right?” 

Yunho smiles widely, and you can see the clear potential for a fast friendship between them in the natural ease they have together, “Got her,” 

“Alright,” She smiles and bows to his family, “it was wonderful to meet you,” 

They exchange pleasant goodbyes, and you give Hana and Em one more hug before they go. 

“Well,” Yunho’s father smiles at the lull in conversation as your family leaves, “we should get back to our hotel too,”

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Yunho’s mother wraps you in another hug, “we’ll get to know each other a little better,” 

“Tomorrow,” You start to say, but you’re sure you sound confused at yet another person who knows plans that you still don’t. 

“Alright,” Yunho breaks through, pulling you back, “drive safely,” 

Yunho’s father gives him a wry smile and then nods, “Come on, yeobo, give the kids some room,” 

Yunho’s mother makes a dismissive noise in the back of her throat but smiles goodnaturedly and gives Yunho a parting kiss on the cheek. 

You catch Gunho’s affectionate eye roll, a mirror image of Yunho’s and you stifle a laugh. 

Yunho’s family makes their way out of the lobby towards the elevators, and finally he lets out a tense breath. You can feel the stiffness through the bond, the locked up intensity of his shoulders. 

“Yun,” You lean into his side, “what’s tomorrow?” 

“I’m sorry,” He says, “you must be so confused.” 

“I trust you,” You remind him, “but so much is happening, I’m just trying to get my feet under me,” 

“I know,” He murmurs, glancing around to see who’s left in the space. 

“There’s more to the plan that we have to do tomorrow,” You search his face, “is that it?” 

“Not here, come with me,” Yunho says softly, pulling you by the hand down the hall into one of the smaller, more private conference rooms. 

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” You let out a nervous exhale, “I don’t know how you pulled all this together in a week,” 

“Most of it was already in progress,” He shuts the door behind you. 

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” You look up at him, “what’s happening tomorrow?” 

“I’ll explain,” He nods, “but first,” 

His lips collide with yours and you see stars, your bodies snapping together like magnets, and you make a soft, happy sound against his lips. Yunho stumbles back with you in his arms, bracing himself with one hand against the frosted glass wall of the conference room and you melt into him, clinging to his broad shoulders.

“I missed you,” He says between kisses, “I’m never letting you go again,”

You nod into a kiss. 

“I’m so sorry,” His breath hitches, “it shouldn’t have taken me so long,” 

You brush your fingers down his cheek, pulling back just enough to see his face, “Don’t,” you murmur, “we’re here now.” 

“I’m trying so hard to fix this,” He confesses, leaning back from the wall and cupping the back of your head. 

“You are,” You brush those thoughts of his away, “Yunho, I love you,”  

You feel all the tenderness, the overwhelm, and he swallows tightly, “I love you too,” 

Pressing up on your tiptoes you kiss him again, gentler this time as you rest your hand over his soulmark, feeling the tender thump of his heart under your palm. 

Breaking the kiss, Yunho touches your hand and holds it to his chest, straightening up to his full height and taking a deep, steadying breath, “Okay,” 

You nod, encouraging him forwards, rubbing a soft line over his chest with your thumb. 

“I need to ask you something,” He confesses, “but I’m nervous,” 

“Nervous?” You shake your head, “Baby, it’s me, you can ask me anything,” 

He smiles, his shoulders relaxing just a little. 

Soulmate bonds are such funny things. Six months ago, this man was a coworker, someone you thought about sometimes or someone that would make your stomach flutter, a little crush you were sure would fade. But a soulmate bond changes everything. If your parents had ever felt this, such an absolutely pure and transcendental love, you’re sure they would be believers too. That sudden click within you, the truth, potential embers of love suddenly stoked by the universe into a roaring flame, it’s not something you could fabricate. 

You watch as Yunho nods, almost pushing himself towards saying whatever it is, and you think to yourself that no matter how awful this week has been, anyone would be lucky to find a soulmate as good and kind as he is. 

“It’s me,” You murmur when he nods to himself again, “it’s just me,” 

“I know,” He sighs, “fuck, okay, I’ll just say it,” 

You watch him shake out his arms and take a deep breath before running a hand through his hair, finally facing you again properly and taking your hands in his. 

Anxiety knots in your stomach and you’re not sure if it's his or yours. 

“This is going to sound like a crazy idea,” He smiles a little nervously, “but I promise you I’ve thought about it, a lot actually, and this isn’t as impulsive as it’s going to sound, I promise,” 

“Yunho,” You can feel the nervous energy pouring out of him, “I trust you, just,” 

“Marry me,” He says in a breath, his hands coming up to catch your cheeks, “be mine in every way, be my wife.” 

Your words die off on your lips, your heart beating harder in your chest. In a million years, you never would have thought that was the question on his tongue, “Y-Yunho,”  

His smile widens at your shocked expression, but his thoughts keep pouring out, “We’ll have a wedding later, anything you want, as big as you want,” he says, “but come to the district office with me tomorrow. Marry me tomorrow,” 

Words don’t make it to your lips, but tears flood your eyes and you just can’t stop yourself from smiling.

Yunho leans in and kisses your forehead, “Please,” he murmurs, “they can choose not to believe the bond is real, but they can’t doubt a marriage license,” 

Your frantic heart stutters, and you wince. 

“We’ll be together,” He continues, another kiss against your hairline before he leans back to look at your face. 

You reach up, catching his hands and bringing them to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles, “Baby,” you murmur softly, “I love you, but I want you to want to marry me for the right reasons, not because we’re backed into a corner.” 

His eyes widen as he realizes his words, “That isn’t what I meant,” 

“Okay,” You nod slowly, pushing him to say more. 

Yunho laces your fingers together and gives you a squeeze, “When we renegotiate on Monday, whatever happens will happen, but people are going to find out about us,” 

You nod. 

“It’s only a matter of time, the more people that know, the faster it will get out there for everyone to see, for everyone to pull it apart.” 

He’s not wrong, not at all. 

“I know,” You nod.

“Jagi,” His voice is low, rough with emotion, “I want you safe. I want you to be able to come back to work, I don’t want you to make yourself smaller because I’m an idol.” 

You kiss his knuckles again, breathing out a shaky sigh. 

“I love you so much, and I want to be with you in every way. I want everyone to know who you are to me, and I want them to know there is no me anymore without you. Not at this company, in public, in private, it’s us,” He presses. 

You soften at that.

“Let me give you my name,” He murmurs, “let me love you the way you deserve. Marry me, y/n, please,” 

For the briefest moment, you think there isn’t a person alive who’s fighting harder for their soulmate than him, you feel that truth in every inch of your body. 

It doesn’t change the facts though, you’ve done all the research, you’ve seen what a mere whisper of romance will do to a career, to a public opinion of an idol and their partner. 

“Yunho,” You manage quietly, “there are no married idols, not our age. Think about your career, the group,” 

“Then let’s go first,” He says, uncoupling your hands and cupping your cheeks again, his face determined, “someone has to. If not us, then who?” 

You think of the airport floor, of screaming fans, of posts online full of hate. 

“I don’t want to wait for someone else to get up the nerve,” He insists, “I want you,” 

Your eyes flood with tears. 

“We’ll do it together,” He murmurs, wiping away a stray tear with the soft pad of his thumb. 

“Yunho,” You whisper. 

“I don’t have a single regret about meeting you and I have no shame in loving you,” He confesses, “the only thing that would break my heart is knowing that I’m hurting you.” 

Tears spill over, faster now as you take in his words. 

His brow creases at your tears, his own eyes shining, “Sweetheart, you’re not meant to be an afterthought to my career,” his voice cracks gently, “you’re my partner, and I would risk everything I am for you,” 

You know he means it, in each and every cell of his body. Some men would have buckled under all this pressure, would cling to their fame and their want to have both, and you know exactly where you would have ended up. Packaged away, made small, fearful of your own day to day life. Would today be the day you were photographed and exposed or would it be the next? Lies upon lies.

Even the strongest bond could buckle under all that weight.

You think of KQ’s attorney, smugly boasting about how he’s dealt with bonded couples before. Your gut feeling all those months ago was right, you aren’t the first idol soulmate bonds, but if you’re brave enough you can be the loudest. You can change things for the next couple, and the next after that. 

You think of Hana’s fear, how she stood up to your parents and chose Em despite it all. 

Your answer bubbles up from deep inside, “O-okay,” you say in a rushed breath, nodding, “okay, let’s get married,” 

He exhales sharply, a wide grin spreading over his face, a relieved laugh on his lips as tears track down his cheeks, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You told yourself once before that you would hold onto him with both hands, so you do, “yes, Yunho, yes,” 

He folds you into his arms and then hoists you up, hitching your legs around his waist and pressing his lips to yours in another, tender kiss. 

You’re a mess of emotions, both of you hidden away in this little conference room, but you’re together. 

After a moment though, a thought occurs to you and you break the kiss, “Did everyone know you were asking me?” 

His cheeks grow pink, “Define everyone,” 

Your eyes widen, your voice running high, “What if I had said no?”

“I was really, really hoping you’d say yes?” He grins. 

“Everyone knew,” You bury your face in his neck, heat blooming in your cheeks and chest. 

“Hey,” His hand runs up and down your back, “really, it’s just my parents and the members, and I guess our attorney, but if you said no that would have been okay, I swear, I would have just proposed again when you felt ready, it’s not,” 

You laugh into his shoulder and shake your head, “I’m not upset,” 

“You’re not?” He turns, his cheek resting against the top of your head. 

“A little overwhelmed,” You admit, “and embarrassed that I met my future in-laws wearing a hoodie and looking like I just spent the past week crying my eyes out, but,” 

“Hey,” He murmurs, “look at me,” 

With a slow breath in, you lift your head and meet his eyes. 

“I love you,” He says clearly, “they already love you too, they’re happy for me.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” He says, unequivocally. 

“What do the members think of this plan?” You ask him quietly. 

“They understand why I want this,” He replies smoothly, “and what it means for all of us,” 

You nod, and there’s nothing more to say. You trust him, so you trust this. 

“Let me take you home,” He finally says, “it’s late, and we have to be up early now,” 

“To get married,” The words sound so strange on your tongue. 

“Yeah,” he smiles, “to get married,” 

“God,” You laugh, “I have to tell Hana and Em,” 

“I have to tell everyone you said yes,” He presses a peck to your lips before he lets you slide down from his arms, “and what time to get to the district office tomorrow,” 

“I want Hana there,” You grab his hand. 

He nods, lacing your fingers together, “Of course,” he says, “let’s get in the car, we’ll call her on the way home I’ll make sure she has everything she needs,” 

“Okay,” You breathe.

Quietly, you slip out of the now empty offices and make your way to Yunho’s car. Your head feels like it’s spinning, your soon-to-be-husband’s hand in yours is the only thing keeping you grounded. 

You tell your sister in a fresh wave of happy tears as the car weaves through the blocks of Seoul. 

You listen as Yunho tells her every detail of how to get to the district office,  what time, and what false name to give at the front desk so they’ll take her back to the right office. 

Your eyes can’t help but find the clock, your heart picking up, in less than twelve hours you’ll be his. 

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

For the first time in weeks, you wake up warm. 

The room around you is unfamiliar, but his body is solid and comforting, his leg hitched up over your hips and pinning you in place like a weighted blanket. If he wasn’t here, draped over you, it’s possible you would have thought the night before was a dream. The long anxious drive, the way you felt when you first saw him again, and all the paperwork, all the plans. 

Lying on your back you study the ceiling as the first threads of early morning light start to stretch through his room, Yunho’s voice asking you to marry him playing on a loop in your mind. 

You’re not sure how long you’ve been thinking, but his gentle fingers on your jaw softly directing your face to the side is what brings you out of your head and back to the present. 

“Hey,” You say softly when you meet his eyes, “did I wake you?” 

A small smile spreads across his face and he shakes his head, “Mm-mm,” he murmurs, “you okay?” 

“Yeah,” You nod, “just thinking,” 

He shifts in the covers, body curling around you even more until you’re properly eye to eye in the middle of the mattress, “About?” 

“Everything,” You confess, “yesterday doesn’t feel real,” 

He hums thoughtfully, cupping your cheek, “I know what you mean,” 

You let out a slow breath, rolling towards him, “Did I make up the part where we’re getting married today?” 

He grins, a little blush in his cheeks, “No, you didn’t make that up,” 

A nervous thrill bubbles through you, “This is so crazy,” 

“Maybe,” He says, covering your hand with his, “are you still saying yes?” 

“Yes,” The word leaves your lips before you can even process his question. 

He dips forwards, kissing you tenderly before he laughs softly and pulls away.

“What?” You smile up at him. 

“I just realized something,” He says with a smile. 

“Hmm?” 

“In a few hours, you’ll actually be my wife,” He grins wider. 

You laugh, a nervous, elated sound, excitement and anticipation spreading through you in equal measure, and you shift forwards to catch his lips in a kiss, “Husband,” you murmur, “that suits you,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” You nuzzle into him, pecking his lips again, “my husband,” 

He nudges you gently, nose to nose, his plush mouth to yours as he lazily kisses you, savoring every breath, “I like that,” 

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you pull yourself closer, deepening the kiss before disconnecting your lips for a breath, “Are you sure I’m not dreaming?” 

“Not dreaming,” You can feel the upturned curve of his mouth as he kisses you again, rolling you onto your back as he slides his hands up your sides. 

You sigh pleasantly, body softening, “I missed you,” 

He nods, “Me too, baby,” 

“Married,” You laugh softly again, looking up into his deep brown eyes, “are we ready for this?” 

He studies your expression and then replies, “Probably not,” 

You blink, not expecting such blatant honesty, but he continues.

 “But,” He kisses you again, gently, “all the best things that have ever happened to me, happened when I didn’t think I was ready,” 

He’s right, it’s the same for you. You were hardly ready for him that day in Berlin, but nothing in the world would ever make you go back and give that up. 

You nod, sinking back into his kiss, your legs tangling together under the duvet. 

He makes a soft, happy hum against your mouth and slides his hand up to find your hand, lacing your fingers together. 

His hand in yours sparks something in your brain and you pull back with a little suck of air, your eyes widening, “We don’t even have rings,” 

He laughs, pecking your lips, and then leans back, “Actually,” he rolls off you, his expression suddenly a little sheepish, “we do,” 

That gets your attention, and you lift up your head to get a better look at him, “We do?” 

“Yeah,” He smiles, sliding away from you in the bed and leaning over the edge to pull the drawer of his nightstand open, “I meant to show you last night,” 

Your stomach does a somersault. 

When Yunho rolls back, he’s holding a small slate blue velvet box. You can see the box is vintage immediately, the velvet worn away on the corners and the front clasp an intricate brass clip, something companies wouldn’t bother manufacturing as nicely as this nowadays. 

“Oh,” You breathe. 

He places the box on the bed between you and takes a breath, “They’re simple,” he says, “I’ll get you an engagement ring later, but, well, these were my grandparents,” 

Your eyes flick up to his face, the tenderness in his expression hitting you right in the chest, and then you gingerly pick up the box and flip open the front clasp. He’s right, they are simple, but the delicate details of the two white gold bands aren’t lost on you in the slightest. His band is slightly wider, but both of them are etched with little stars, a few of the stars encrusted with tiny diamonds. 

“Oh, Yunho,” You sigh, your fingers gently tracing the rings, “they’re so beautiful,” 

“They’re very special to me,” He nods. 

You reach for his hand, “Is this why your parents are here? Did they bring these?” 

His lips close in a thin line, the tips of his ears reddening, “Not exactly,” 

“Not exactly or,” 

He looks down at the box, cleaning his throat, “I’ve had them,” 

For a moment you think he means that his grandparents left him the rings, that they’ve been in his possession the entire time, but you feel the start of his embarrassment through the bond. 

“Baby,” You murmur, “how long have you had them?” 

He smiles briefly and then sighs, looking up at you, “Since Paris,” 

Your eyes widen. 

“After we talked that night on the bridge,” He brushes your cheek, “I called my parents and told them I met you. I told them I wanted to have these for when it felt right,” 

You melt, “You grandparents were soulmates?” 

He nods, “Yes, they were together for sixty years,” 

“That’s beautiful,” You murmur. You wonder what it must have been like to grow up in a household full of that much love. 

“I want that for us,” Yunho says honestly. 

All you can do is nod, emotion thrumming in your chest. 

“God,” You grin, dipping into his broad chest with a laugh, “we’re so crazy, but I love you so much,” 

He chuckles and wraps you up again, “Me too,” 

“For today,” You say against his shoulder, “let’s just pretend everything is normal,” 

“What do you mean?” He looks down at you. 

“For today, you’re not an idol,” You smile, “we’re just us. We’re just two people in love,” 

He smiles at you tenderly, “Just us,” 

With your hand on the back of his neck you pull him down to meet your kiss, sinking into each other. In the early morning light  you kiss like the past week was a dream, no fear or doubt, just each other. Nothing hanging over your heads except the promise of a life together. 

Yunho shifts over you, dipping you back into the mattress, deepening the kisses with his tongue languidly probing your mouth. You sigh, your body feeling pleasant and warm, the first threads of your want and his starting to tangle together between you. 

Yunho’s hand tightens on your hip as he shifts over you a little more, the weight of him above you making you dizzy, and he hums happily, “I missed these lips,” 

“Mm,” Your fingers tighten in his hair, “me too,” 

“Missed you under me,” His kisses peck across your jaw and back to your swollen lips. 

A pulse of arousal beats inside you, but you shake your head. 

“So pretty,” He murmurs, hands searching your skin. 

As much as you want him, you push gently against his chest, “We have to get ready,” 

“We have time,” He nuzzles you, nipping your lip. 

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head again, your lips still locked to his. 

Yunho’s hand slides up your body slowly until he’s cupping your breast, squeezing you a little suggestively and brushing his thumb over your hardening nipple.

Warmth blooms in your belly, but you pull back and shake your head, “Yunho, we’re getting married in like two hours,” 

He grins, “I know,” 

You laugh, “I mean, traditionally we wouldn’t even see each other the morning of the wedding, we really shouldn’t be having sex,” 

Yunho looks at the clock, “How long do you need to get ready?” 

“At least an hour,” 

“Then we have fifteen minutes,” Yunho meets your eyes, a cheeky look on his face. 

You sigh, about to protest, but then his thumb passes over your lips. 

“No sex,” He agrees, “but you’re here in my bed, and I haven’t touched you like this in weeks. Let me take care of you,” 

Your core flutters, nipples hardening and pebbling through your shirt. 

He takes in the change in your expression and nods, “That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down your body and tucking between your thighs to push them open. 

You let your legs fall slack, your breath warm against his cheek. 

“Missed you so much,” He presses a kiss to your forehead as his fingers travel slowly up your inner thigh to the seam of your underwear. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

“Just stay nice and quiet for me, okay?” He shifts, his body sliding down in the bed as he slots between your thighs. 

“Yun,” You murmur, “what about you?” 

“Shh,” He tugs your underwear to the side, wasting no time getting his mouth on you. 

You gasp at the sudden connection of his tongue to your clit, your hips jerking. 

He glances up from between your splayed legs, giving you a look, and you slap your hand over your mouth in response, letting your head fall back into the mattress. 

“Mmhm,” He hums. 

You melt into the pleasure of his mouth. 

It takes thirty minutes, your bodies so hungry for one another that one orgasm isn’t enough. He worships you with his tongue, makes love to your cunt with his hot mouth, and by the second dizzying wave of pleasure you’re quietly begging to touch him too. The clock forgotten as you stroke him to his own release, the taste of yourself on his lips as he kisses you into the sheets. 

You’re a giggling mess by the end, frantically trying to get ready between needy touches. After your lightning fast showers, you’re making the most of every second, but he just can’t keep himself away from you. 

He kisses your neck while you apply your makeup, squeezes every plush inch of your skin while you root through your suitcase for something to wear. When you’re finally ready, he kisses you again, hot and hard, nearly toppling you back into the bed and ruining your perfectly applied lipstick. 

The moment he gets the text from his brother though, he sobers and gets himself together, the ring box tucked safely in his pants pocket. 

You quell the dizzying heat between you with a cool glass of water, and by the time you’re walking to the car, all of this morning is forgotten in a haze of nervous energy. 

The trip to the district office is strategic, both of you wearing hats and masks and scarves for a good measure of anonymity as you travel covertly in Gunho’s car to keep things as quiet as possible. At the district office, the doors open for you once you arrive, and it dawns on you that the offices aren’t properly open to the public yet. 

You distantly imagined a courtroom and a judge, perhaps one dedicated to weddings, but you’re ushered into a modest office with a kind looking older woman who tells you both to take a seat like it’s any other meeting. 

It turns out, when you don’t have a wedding dress or a big party, marriage is mostly paperwork. 

Yunho’s family stands behind his chair, and Hana and Em stand behind yours. 

You’re her first appointment of the day, early at only eight in the morning, and your district officiant offers you a cup of coffee before you sign yourself to each other in the eyes of the Republic. 

“Ah,” Ms. Kim, the officiant, says with a laugh that says this happens all the time, “this is the wrong form, let me print off the right copy,” 

Your chest feels tight, your palms suddenly clammy. 

“This is the 609C,” She explains, gesturing to the paper in her hands, “but this is for divorcees, I need the 609A for you two,” 

Yunho makes an affirmative sound, laughing along with the bureaucratic mix up, but you can only crack a smile. 

Ms. Kim navigates to the file on her ancient computer, adjusts her glasses and leans closer to the screen, and then nods before hitting print. 

“Alright,” She says, “let’s get you two married, yes?” 

That lightens the mood a little, and you release the taut breath in your chest. Hana squeezes your shoulder, and you rest your hand over hers for just a moment. 

Fishing the paper out of the printer, she checks the form’s number, nods, and then leans forward, “Bride, you fill in the top sections here and here,” she points out with a pen where to look, “and groom, you’re down here.” 

“And then?” You say as Yunho takes the paper and starts to skim through it. 

“I’ll take a copy of your documents, you’ll sign the bottom of the form, one of each of your witnesses will also sign, and then I’ll sign,” She recites, “I’ll stamp it with my very official seal, and then that’s it. You’ll be legally married,” 

“That’s easier than I thought it would be,” You manage. 

“Getting married is the easy part,” she smiles, “getting divorced has a lot more paperwork, I don’t recommend it.” 

Everyone chuckles at that. 

“Okay,” Yunho grins, picking up the black pen, “let’s do this.” 

“If you’ll provide your birth certificates and identification cards, I’ll just go get those photocopied while you fill things in. Wait to sign until I get back,” 

You produce the documents from your bag and pass them over to her, and then within a moment you’re alone with this form and your new family. 

Yunho takes his time writing things out to keep the form legible, and you lean forward to see, “What does it ask?” 

Without glancing up from the paper, Yunho reaches with his free hand, resting it on your knee and giving you a comforting squeeze, “The basics, nationality, family names,” he murmurs, “it’s alright,” 

He can feel your bubble of anxiety, from all your witnesses watching to the strange sense of dread that you might get something wrong on the form. 

You rest your hands on his, “Sorry,” you breathe, “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” 

Yunho turns, but his mother speaks first, surprising you all, “Yesterday morning you had no idea you were getting married,” she points out, “I had months to prepare for our wedding and I was still a nervous wreck,” 

“You were?” The words slip out. 

She nods warmly, “I was, but you’ll do fine,” 

Yunho smiles and slides the paper to you, “Your turn,” 

He rests his hand on our back as you fill in the form, and it’s hardly as scary as it seemed a moment ago. You fill in your details, double check that you both didn’t miss any boxes, and by the time you’re done Ms. Kim is back and your nervousness has started to morph into excitement. 

You’re a few signatures away from being a wife. 

You had never really imagined that for yourself, not in the way that other little girls did. You’ve never picked out dresses, or thought of your dream venue. You don’t know what kind of engagement ring would look best or if you’d want to write your own vows. You had never let yourself dream that far ahead, always stunted by your parents' sharp expectations and your own inability to slow down and let yourself picture something better, happier than their marriage. But now, in the span of a few hours, you’re about to be someone’s wife.

“Ready?” Ms. Kim says, handing back your documents, “Let me take a look at things,” 

She skims the form with precision and then clips it to the front of your photocopied documents, and for the first time in your life, the thought of being married doesn’t fill you with panic. 

You slip your hand into Yunho’s, a smile tugging at your lips, and Yunho gives you a squeeze. 

“Perfect,” Ms. Kim says, “now, if you’d like, we can get those signatures and be done, but some couples like to say a few words and exchange rings if you have any. I’d be happy to talk you through that,” 

“We have rings,” Yunho reaches into his trouser pocket and produces the velvet box. 

His mother presses a handkerchief to her lips, and you see both of his parents’ eyes shining with tears. 

Ms. Kim nods warmly, “So, please face each other,” 

Yunho stands, drawing you up with him, and you face each other in the little space between the chairs. He’s handsome today, in a way that nearly stops your heart, dressed simply in dark charcoal gray trousers and a white button down, his dark black hair still a little tousled from his cap. He looks right for a wedding, and selfishly, you think he looks right for you too. 

“If you have any words for each other,” She prompts gently. 

You take Yunho’s hands, giving him a soft squeeze before dropping them, and then you turn to his parents, “Mr. and Mrs. Jeong,” you feel your throat tighten with emotion, but you continue, “I will never be able to thank you enough for raising Yunho,” 

His father wraps an arm around his wife. 

“For giving him the kindest home, the warmest love,” 

You hear a sniffle behind you, no doubt Hana crying. 

“You taught him to be a good man, and a good partner,” You continue, the honesty of it flowing out of you, “and I will work hard to deserve his love for the rest of my life, thank you,” 

You bow as deeply as you can in the small space, and they thank you softly, the weight of the makeshift ceremony finally sinking into everyone. 

When you turn back to Yunho, he’s hastily wiping away his tears. 

Your parents aren’t here, and even if they were you wouldn’t expect him to do more than a short, perfunctory statement, so you glance towards Ms. Kim, “Alright,” 

“Wait,” Yunho shakes his head, “hold on, my turn,” 

Ms. Kim laughs quietly, and so do your witnesses. 

Yunho holds your gaze, taking your hands in his. “y/n,” he exhales a deep breath, gathering himself, and then he speaks, “I can’t thank your parents for making you the woman that you are today, I think you did that all on your own, but I do have someone to thank.” 

Your throat closes with emotion as he turns to your baby sister. 

“Hana,” He smiles, eyes shining again, “from the first moment y/n talked about you, I knew your relationship was a special one. I am so grateful to you for being her sister, her friend, and her safe place.” 

Hana takes in a sharp, wet breath behind you and you smile. 

“We may not have it easy,” He continues, squeezing your hands, “but I know you will always be standing beside her, and I hope you know that I’m doing my best to live by what you said,” 

Tears track down your cheeks.

“I’m putting her first,” He smiles, “today and always,” 

He bows deeply, and when he rises up you’re both crying.

There’s a moment of silence while you collect yourselves, but sensing that the speeches are over, Ms. Kim interjects. 

“Yunho,” She says softly, “do you promise to take y/n as your lawfully wedded wife?” 

His eyes flick to yours, and you feel nothing but warmth and overwhelming love coursing through the bond, “I promise.” 

“y/n,” She turns to you, “do you promise to take Yunho as your lawfully wedded husband?” 

“I promise,” You nod. 

“Please exchange rings,” She says. 

Yunho takes the box and gently pulls out his grandmother’s ring. 

Slowly, he slides it onto your left ring finger, “I love you,” 

You take his grandfather’s ring from the box and follow him, the band slipping into place on his finger, “I love you too,” 

“If you’ll both sign,” Ms. Kim places the paper back down on the desk with a pen, “you’ll be married,” 

Yunho turns, his smile widening as he writes out his signature. In a haze of dizzy elation, you sign your name too. 

“Congratulations,” She says, “you’re husband and wife.” 

A giddy laugh bubbles from your lips, and without a moment’s hesitation or thought of anyone else in the world, he pulls you into his chest and dips low to capture your lips in a kiss. You can feel him smiling against your mouth, feel his overwhelming happiness, and you rest a hand over his heart, his soulmark. 

When you break apart, you realize everyone’s clapping, and you hide in Yunho’s chest for a moment before stepping away and facing the room. 

Hana barrels into you, squeezing you tightly. 

“Han!” You laugh. 

“That was a good speech,” She says, but it’s not to you.

”I meant it,” Yunho says. 

Hana nods, but Ms. Kim interrupts once more.

“Last bit of paperwork,” She says, “I need two witnesses to sign off,” 

Yunho pulls Gunho forwards and Hana unwraps herself from around you so they can both step up and sign. 

“We’ll get these filed today,” Ms. Kim adds, “I got the check for the expedition fee, so you should be able to pick the official license up on Friday at the front clerk’s office,” 

“That’s perfect,” Yunho nods, “thank you for agreeing to that,”

She smiles, a little knowingly, “It’s not the first time we’ve gotten the request from someone famous,” 

Yunho clears his throat, “Right, well, we’d prefer to,” 

“Ah,” She holds up a hand, “my lips are sealed. If you only knew the couples I’ve had in this office,” 

You smile, “Oh?” 

She takes the paperwork back and adds her own signature and stamp, “I could cast a reality show of my own,” she nods, and then makes the motion of zipping her lips closed, “but you’d never hear the details from me,” 

“Thank you,” Yunho says earnestly, “for everything.” 

“Mhm,” She smiles, “now, there’s a back entrance to the building if you’d like some privacy,” she checks her watch, “now that the building is open, if you go right out of this office and down the stairs to the garage.” 

“Thank you,” 

“Of course,” She nods as you all get your facemasks and hats, “congratulations again, you both have the real thing. Make sure to cherish it,” 

Looking up at Yunho, you soften, “We will.” 

The rest of the day is what you can only describe as a whirlwind. 

Yunho’s parents have arranged a private lunch, just family, and you spend hours getting to know them better and being quietly celebrated as a couple, even though you still maintain your distance in case anyone from the restaurant or on the street recognizes him. 

By the evening, you’re spent. A few glasses of wine combined with the crash after a week of drawn out stress leaves you feeling a strange mix of wired and exhausted. 

Quietly, Yunho communicates to his manager that he won’t be coming home tonight, but that he will be back on Sunday and ready for work. 

Hana and Em leave early to pick up their things from your apartment and check into a hotel, promising to stay close for the next few days as whatever unfolds, unfolds. 

When Gunho drops you both off at your apartment building, you slip into the elevator without seeing another soul despite the early hour. 

The hallway to your door is blissfully empty too. 

You trade little glances with him, strange newness to the sensation of him beside you. 

Your body thrums in the anticipation of being properly alone with him again. 

You key in your door code, fingers trembling with anticipation as you push over the threshold. 

The door is still swinging shut when Yunho yanks you into his arms, stumbling into the mirrored sliding closet door in your entryway, lips crashing onto yours, tongue dipping into your mouth to deepen it as your back flattens against the cool mirror. 

You fold into him, the bond between you hot and humming, and you moan against his lips. 

“God,” He clings to you, arms banded tight around you as he dives in for another kiss. 

Arousal pumps through you, and you suck in a sharp breath as your fingers pull at the buttons of his dress shirt, “Need you,” 

He nods, kicking his shoes off without missing a beat and walking you a little deeper into your apartment until he’s pushing you onto the kitchen counter. 

Your fingers drop from his shirt to his belt, tugging at the leather until it’s free, your eyes glued to the clear hardness straining through his dress pants. 

“Fuck,” He curses as your palm coasts over his clothed cock, and his hands push up the length of your silky dark green skirt, fabric pooling around your waist as he caresses your bare thighs.

You moan, both of you breathing heavily, the only sounds in the room your shared, heady pants and the zipper of his trousers as tug it down to free his cock. 

He pulls your thong down over your legs, letting them hang slack around one ankle, and pushes your thighs open wider. His fingers slide up your thigh and brush against the bare lips of your sex, but your head is pulsing with need, an ache so real you feel like you might scream if you don’t feel him in you, and you push his arm away. 

“Inside me,” Your hands anchor on his hips and you drag him forwards, “please,” 

He groans, the bare head of his cock nudging your soft center, “Let me make you come first,” 

You shake your head, “Can’t wait,” 

He swallows tightly, his hands hard on your hips as you angle yourself on the counter, opening up wider to him. 

“Mm,” He bites back a moan as his cock slides over you, “w-wait, I need to prep you,” 

You surge forwards, capturing his mouth and shaking your head, “No you don’t,” you pant, “please, just fuck me,” 

He chokes against you, a shudder through his whole body at the feeling of your raw need, and with a groan on both your lips, you feel his velvet cockhead catch deliciously on your entrance. 

“Baby,” He breathes, his last soft protest, resolve crumbling. 

Your fingers hitch onto his belt loops and pull him in again, his cock pushing inside you just an inch from his slight shift forwards. Your nails skate down his neck, your body trembling with need, “Please,” 

With a soft curse, his hips snap forward at the same time as his wide hands tug your hips towards him, spearing you open on the full length of his thick cock. You gasp against his mouth, he’s stretching you wide, and while it’s not painful it is an aching adjustment and your fingers grip down on him tightly. 

Yunho groans, a hot pant on your skin, “God, fuck, jagiya,” 

His forehead drops to yours, your bodies connected in every possible way, but you stay still together, just feeling each other and adjusting to the sudden sink of him inside you. But your body needs him, and in a moment you feel yourself slicking up and clenching around him. 

This time, he doesn’t wait for you to ask, doesn’t wait for you to beg. Fully in tune with you and your body, he moves. With one hand cupping your hip and the other holding your head, he starts to thrust, firm snaps of his hips that drag his hot length against every needy, aching spot inside you. 

Pleasure arcs up your spine with each rhythmic connection of his hips to yours, until you both lose yourself to deep, insatiable need. 

Your legs hitch onto his hips, your flats slipping off your feet and clattering to the floor, “H-harder,” 

His breath catches, but his body complies, forehead hard against yours as he drives into you again and again. 

“Ah,” His nails dig into your hip, “god,” 

“Y-Yunho,” You moan, head dropping back into his hand. 

Your combined pleasure starts to meld, after days of separation and weeks of not being able to touch like this, he feels your orgasm starting to build at the same time you feel his, and it spurns you both into frantic jerks of your bodies, needy moans. 

“C-close,” You whine. 

“Yes, yes,” He grits his teeth and groans, pumping into you, a sheen of sweat across his skin. 

One of your hands slips off his shoulders to brace yourself on the counter, heels digging into his back, and your orgasm crests over you in a sudden uncontrollable wave, fast and unexpected. 

You gasp sharply, nearly losing your hold on him, and he moans as the pleasure takes him under alongside you. Collapsing forwards, he rocks you back onto the counter, bracing himself fast with a hand against the backsplash to keep you from falling back into the tile, and with two more sharp thrusts he spills his release deep inside you, his cockhead pressed hard against your fluttering cervix as your walls spasm around him. 

You’re both sweaty, half dressed and a mess, eyes locked on each other as you breathe through one of the most intense orgasms of your life. 

“Oh my god,” You manage, voice hoarse. 

His chest is still heaving, heart hammering, but he grins and flicks his head to move the dark hair that has fallen into his eyes, “Y-you okay?” 

“Uh-huh,” Your legs finally start to relax off the anchor points of his hips, your muscles weak. 

“Love you so much,” He says in a single, sated breath. 

You nod, your smile spreading wide. 

Slowly, he straightens up and draws you back up to a seated position, easing his cock out of your wet center with deliberate slowness. 

You hiss at the sensation change, your hips sore from being spread so wide open and taken so roughly, but the hurt is deeply satisfying after so long apart. 

“Are you,” He starts to say. 

“Can we go to bed?” You interrupt, relaxing onto his broad shoulder. 

“Let’s go,” He rights his trousers just enough so that they’re not falling down his hips, and then he pulls you into his arms, “are you sore?” 

“Only a little,” You assure him, still breathless, as he starts to take the stairs, “the bed’s softer than the counter,” 

“Mm,” his hand cups your ass, kneading the soft flesh, “I’ll kiss it better,” 

You smile against his chest, his skin radiating warmth through the fabric of his dress shirt. 

At the top of the landing he drops his head to avoid your low ceiling, and then walks you back to the bed, gently placing you on the edge of your mattress before dropping down to his knees between your splayed legs. 

Yunho cups your cheek, kissing you tenderly and smoothing your hair back over your shoulder, “So beautiful,” he says, almost to himself.

You soften. 

He leans back to get a look at you, his hands slowly tugging your black shirt out from the top of your silk skirt, pushing the fabric up to reveal the plane of your abdomen, your soulmark, the underside of your bare breasts. 

You ease back on your hands, letting him touch you how he likes, his eyes studying your body as he reveals inches of skin. 

Sinking back onto his heels, he pushes your skirt up around your hips, his lips, swollen from starving kisses, part at the sight of you half dressed and full of him. 

Yunho’s hand passes over your thigh, the top of your sex, resting on your stomach as he looks up to meet your eyes, “My pretty wife,” he says softly. 

The air feels thin, and you feel almost dizzy at his attentions, the sweet praise of his words. 

You expect him to touch you more, strip you bare, devour you whole, but he looks at you with something you can only describe as awe, and takes a shuddering breath. 

On his knees for you, he gives you a tender confession, “I’m yours,” he whispers, “you know that right?” 

Yours. 

His letter echoes in your mind. 

“I know,” You murmur.

“No matter what happens,” He takes your left hand, pressing a kiss over the ring, “you’ve changed me, forever, and I’m yours,” 

He breathes into your skin, and you brush your other hand over his hair, “Yunho, I’m yours too,” 

He nods, head still bowed. 

Emotion bubbles up in you, and you cup his cheeks, drawing his eyes up to your face, “Baby,” 

There’s something in him you can feel but you can’t name, a guarded tightness, some kind of anxiety in the shadow of his heart. 

He looks at you and waits, a little crease between his brows. 

He’s told you every way he loves you, and you need him to know the same. 

“I married you today because I want you, forever,” You swear to him, this more of a vow than your promise and shaky signature, “I didn’t marry you for the contracts, or my job, or because you asked.” 

He swallows, his throat bobbing as he listens, really listens to your words. 

“I belong to you,” 

He blinks away a sheen of tears. 

“Our bond, our marriage,” Your fingers brush over his face, ghosting over his lips, his jaw, “I’m here, I’m fighting for you too. I’m yours too, in every way that you’ll ever have me,” 

His breath hitches. 

You pull him in, drawing him closer, “Make love to me again,” 

He sighs, the last piece of his guarded tension falling away. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, “Yunho, please,” you kiss him softly, “love me again,” 

You tumble back into the sheets, his kisses reverent on your skin, his touch gentle. 

“My baby,” He sighs, lips traveling down your neck, “my love,” 

You sink into the sensation of him, one body, one living soul. 

“My wife,” he says softly, like a prayer. 

You answer him with your body, with the untethered openness of the bond. Together you move, connected once more, rocking into one another with slow, deliberate motion. 

One breath passed between you, slipped from his lungs to yours and back as you move together. 

Dizzy sensation, an echo of your first time together, of your bonding. 

Here, in every way, your story begins. 

______________________________________________________________ end note: as i mentioned at the top, one thing i wanted to mention without spoiling was around the idea of marriage/weddings. in my research i found out that korean weddings are pretty different to american weddings, or at least what i'm used to, but i also didn't want to overly assume customs or traditions and get it wrong. what i went with was a bit of a blend to keep things semi-accurate but lean romantic. i.e. it's a 'district office' not a courthouse, but i actually don't know what those weddings are like outside of some youtube videos i watched from the pov of foreigners marrying a korean-born person, which may have unique aspects just because of immigration. as far as the vows, i did find that korean vows more accurately translate to "I promise" rather than "I do", which i went with, and it's more common (according to reddit threads and google and like three weddings i watched on youtube lol) to thank your partner's parents for raising them vs. custom vows to one another. i found some inconsistencies on whether or not women in korea take their husband's last names and also generally some mixed information about other customs, so i kept it simple and romantic. if you're korean or more familiar with those customs, please suspend a bit of disbelief for me on this one, i'm doing my best.

lastly, if you're interested, i wanted to note the kind of tea blend that em prepared for reader was actually specifically chosen, and is a real tea blend that i have irl. i picture em slightly green-witchy, so i thought this might be a fun tidbit to share;

holy basil for purification, luck, and banishing negative energy lemongrass for open lines of communication and emotional cleansing dandelion root for resilience, growth, and transformation nettle for banishing unwanted energy and protection of the spirit ginkgo leaf for promoting longevity of the mind, body, and soul

[girlatmirror]

anyone but you | jeon jungkook

one shared bed, a tempting agreement and a wedding halfway across the world - what could possibly go wrong?

fake bf! jungkook x fake gf! reader

warnings: not rlly anything yet, mentions of sex, the next parts will most probably be explicit, heavily inspired by the movie anyone but you, i did not proofread this ( please forgive me if there’s any mistakes), this is just an introduction, the next parts will be much more interesting i promise. love uuu 😘

part two

_

The moment you met Jungkook, you did not like him. Lily was your trusted friend, but to this day, you held a grudge against her for introducing you to Jungkook.

Cocky. Annoying. Infuriating. Those were the words you would use to describe him.

He had just gotten back from a semester abroad in Australia when you first met him at a function organized by Lily. You immediately thought he was handsome, of course.

He had that glowy tan that couldn’t possibly have come from Chicago.

Your fiancé, Tariq, wasn’t free to attend the event with you, so Jungkook assumed you were single and hit you with the single most embarrassing pickup line you had ever heard.

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

You practically shoved your ring finger in his face and told him something like, “And even if I weren’t engaged, do not think for a second that this line would’ve worked on me.”

You had to admit, this mutual dislike—or ‘beef,’ as Lily would call it—was more one-sided than anything; Jungkook didn’t dislike you; he simply enjoyed teasing you.

The more you hung around each other, the more you never knew if he was simply trying to get a reaction out of you or if he was genuinely flirting.

It was always a push and pull with him.

You didn’t give it too much thought, though; you were with Tariq during those times, and you couldn’t have cared less about Jungkook’s opinion of you.

But ever since you called off your engagement, you had been… different. Your whole life had been structured, planned out, leading toward a future that, for the longest time, you thought you wanted: a house, a stable marriage, the predictability of it all. But you realized there were other ways to lead much more fulfilling lives. So you broke it off.

And now you tried being freer, more open to new things, and more inclined to say yes to things you wouldn’t have before.

That’s why, when you locked eyes with Jungkook that night at the club, you didn’t feel like looking away.

So, you hooked up. One minute you were still in the club, playing your usual game of push and pull, and the next, he was playfully tugging at the hem of your dress while trying not to get into a car accident.

Then, you found yourself pressed against the wall of his bathroom, his hands gripping your soft waist with a sense of urgency while he kissed you hard.

“This is a bad idea,” you whispered against his mouth.

“Probably,” he murmured before kissing you again.

He was good, and you hated it, but you hated even more that you shared moments of intimacy beyond sex that night; after the sex, he made you a late-night snack, and there was something about him that made you feel like you could tell him anything and everything.

So, you did. And you felt a connection, you weren’t going to lie, but it scared you.

The next morning, you remembered waking up before him and just fleeing.

No goodbye. No explanation.

But since he had not texted or called you afterward, you assumed he did not care.

It was just a one time thing.

---

Your good friend, Lily, and her long-term fiancée, Sophia, were finally getting married.

Not in good old Chicago or some other easily accessible city, but in Australia.

Australia was never on your travel list. Not because you weren’t convinced it was a beautiful place, but because its beauty couldn’t distract you from the heat, the bugs, and the disgusting, undiscovered creatures they have down there. Not to mention how far away it was.

You understood the sentiment behind their choice; Sophia grew up in Sydney, and her parents owned a beach house there.

But it wasn’t just that.

You could already guess who was invited, given your close friendship with Lily, and while you were okay with most of them, there were a few candidates you would rather not see.

Like Jungkook, for example.

And though you hoped they would leave the topic alone for those two weeks, Lily’s parents, who had known you for a very long time, were entirely too invested in your decision to break it off with Tariq, and that worried you.

But you were just going to accept it and see what awaited you.

---

Tariq was your first everything. Somehow, every memory you had of your childhood included him. It was as if you could not escape him, yet you also did not want to.

He was always going to be a part of who you fundamentally were. He was the man who made you believe that you deserved to be loved fiercely. He was the man who introduced you to new things and pushed you to be your best.

He was the only thing you ever knew.

From when you were both just six years old, your parents would tell you that you were going to get married. Tariq was your neighbor, one of the only ones your age, so naturally, you gravitated toward him; playing outside and sharing secrets in his little treehouse.

You did love him, and your dream since childhood was to marry him, but you never accounted for dreams changing. Nobody ever told you that dreams could suddenly shift. That feeling of change scared and stressed you deeply.

You did not know what to do; the things that you used to love doing with him became exhausting, and the things that used to excite you didn’t anymore. Your entire outlook on life and your relationship completely changed. Your relationship was healthy; he treated you well, and during the time leading up to your decision to end the engagement, you tried to tell yourself you needed nothing more than that—that you were ungrateful for wanting something different.

You were supposed to be married within a couple of months after finishing college, but one day, you interrupted Tariq’s rant about your wedding venue with a sudden, “I don’t want to marry you.”

From then on, it was pure awkwardness and constant justifications; after the breakup, you avoided him and his family as much as you could, but somehow, that wasn’t the hardest part.

It was your own parents who really did it for you, constantly bringing Tariq up and faulting you for not staying with him, barely trying to understand your feelings and reasoning.

It affected you more than they knew.

So perhaps a trip to Australia, far away from home, would do you good.

---

The house was gorgeous.

A sprawling estate with a massive backyard, a view overlooking the ocean, and more rooms than you could count. You had to admit, Sophia’s parents had taste.

“Yn!! Heyyy,” Lily came running up to you, immediately pulling you into her arms as soon as she saw you. “How are you? How was the flight? You must be starving.”

You put your luggage down. “I’m good, the flight was okay, but I really need a shower.”

Lily immediately nodded in understanding but pointed to the other room.

“Just come greet the others, and then I’ll take you to your room,” she said, taking your hand and practically dragging you to the rest of the guests who had already arrived.

You recognized most of the people in the room.

Lily’s parents, her sister, Sophia, and another older couple whom you assumed were Sophia’s parents. You greeted them all charmingly, even though you were dying for that shower.

Lily had mentioned that the house was reserved for the most important guests and the rest of the guests were staying at nearby hotels.

But there was a girl standing there whom you did not recognize. She was beautiful.

“Hey,” you offered her your hand and smiled, which she immediately shook. “I’m Yn.”

The girl smiled sweetly and said, “I’m Chaerin.”

---

When Lily finally showed you to your room, you took it all in first; it was gorgeous, huge, and it had an in-room bathroom. You truly did not need anything more than that.

You immediately hopped into the shower and scrubbed off the 20-hour flight.

Clad only in your underwear, you exited the adjoining bathroom and saw a relaxed Jungkook lying on the huge bed, flipping through channels.

What the heck was he doing there, in your assigned room?!

You knew he was going to be attending the wedding and staying at the house, but not like this.

“What are you doing here?” you asked in a shocked tone, immediately covering yourself with your hands.

Jungkook simply smirked at you, his eyes not leaving your curves. “I guess we’re sharing a room… and you can drop the hands; it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

You were just about to respond to his smug comment when you realized what he said before.

“What??” you exclaimed. “What do you mean we’re sharing a room? There’s literally only one bed in here.”

You put on an oversized white shirt and put your hair in a quick ponytail before putting your hands on your hips and looking at Jungkook accusingly.

“Relax,” was his reaction. “It’s really not that big a deal. I don’t have a problem with it; we slept in a bed together before.”

Irritation started rising in your body; you hated his nonchalant attitude. In fact, you hated him. It was annoying how he suddenly showed up out of the blue, how he was able to handle every embarrassing situation by not being embarrassed.

The fact that he didn’t contact you after your night together crept its way back into your mind, leaving a bitter taste.

Yes, you had left before he even woke up, but that was just a fuckboy move, and everybody knew that it was the guy who had to text the girl first.

You didn’t make the rules.

He was just not your type of person. You often felt like you were polar opposites, and that was the reason you disliked him. You envied that carelessness.

You hated that his presence took you back to the night you spent together when his skilled hands were all over your body, refusing to let go.

“It’s amazing and great that you don’t have a problem, but I definitely do,” you countered, huffing slightly. “I’m going to talk to Lily about this.”

As soon as you said those words, you exited the room, Jungkook surprisingly following behind you.

You found Lily in the kitchen, making coffee while happily humming.

“Lily… we need to talk to you,” you approached her. “I think there’s some sort of mistake because he thinks we have to share a room, but I’m sure you just gave him these keys accidentally.”

Lily’s stance suddenly became awkward, and her face told you everything you needed to know.

“I’m sorry, Yn,” she started after taking a sip of her coffee. “There’s not enough room for everybody, and I thought since you two hooked up before, you wouldn’t have a problem sharing a room.”

Her logic irritated you greatly, but what truly aggravated you was the fact that she didn’t care to ask you beforehand.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “That’s not how it works, Lily. Just because we hooked up once doesn’t mean we’re suddenly comfortable sharing a bed for two whole weeks.”

Lily gave you an apologetic look, but you could tell she wasn’t going to budge. “I know, I know,” she said, setting her mug down on the counter. “But we had to make some compromises. My parents insisted on inviting a few last-minute guests, and there’s just… no other option.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Jungkook beat you to it. “Wait, last-minute guests?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lily hesitated. “Yeah, um…” She glanced between you two, as if she was debating whether to say it.

You narrowed your eyes. “Lily.”

She sighed. “Tariq’s coming.”

Your stomach dropped.

You weren’t sure if it was because of the jet lag or the sheer absurdity of the situation, but for a second, you thought you misheard her. “I’m sorry—what?”

Lily winced. “My parents invited him.”

You blinked, your mind going blank. “Your parents… invited Tariq?”

“As a last-minute guest,” she clarified weakly.

Your ex-fiancé. The man you had nearly married. The man you hadn’t spoken to in months. The man you were definitely not prepared to see here, on the other side of the world, while you were rooming with Jungkook of all people.

“What the actual fuck, Lily?”

“I know, I know,” she groaned, rubbing her temples. “Trust me, I tried to talk them out of it. But you know how they are! They’ve known Tariq forever; they still think of him as part of the family. They just… thought it’d be nice to have him here.”

“Nice?” You let out a humorless laugh. “Nice for who? Certainly not for me.”

Jungkook, who had been silent up until now, let out a low chuckle. “Damn,” he muttered. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

You shot him a glare. “Oh, shut up.”

He smirked but didn’t push it. Instead, he leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “So, when’s he getting here?”

Lily hesitated.

“Lily.”

“…Tonight.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. Of course. As if the universe wasn’t already hell-bent on ruining your peace, you had less than four hours to mentally prepare for seeing Tariq again.

“Look,” Lily said gently, “if it makes you feel better, I doubt he’ll be weird. I mean, from what I heard, he’s been doing fine.”

Your stomach twisted at that, but you forced yourself to act indifferent. You left him, so you should be glad that he was feeling fine. “Good for him.”

Lily eyed you, unconvinced, but mercifully didn’t press the issue.

Jungkook, however, was watching you with an unreadable expression. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way he was assessing you. Like he was trying to figure out just how much this actually bothered you.

And the worst part? He probably could.

“Well,” he finally said, clapping his hands together. “Sounds like we’re in for a fun time.”

You shot him another glare, but your stomach was still a mess of nerves, your mind racing with everything that could go wrong.

Tariq was coming.

And you had no idea how you were supposed to handle it.

---

Despite your irritation, the house and the wedding atmosphere were undeniably beautiful. The warm sun, the sound of waves in the distance, and the way everyone lounged around in swimsuits made it feel like a dream vacation.

Two weeks without work and the busy streets of Chicago were simply what dreams were made of.

Which is why you were now in a tiny bikini that barely concealed anything, sprawled out on a sunbed, trying to relax and ignore the fact that Jungkook was shirtless only a few feet away.

You weren’t going to let him take up space in your mind. You had enough to deal with—your ex-fiancé would be arriving very soon, and you weren’t ready for that confrontation.

But then, Jungkook had to ruin your peace.

“So,” he began, speaking in a way that let you know he was about to say something irritating, “you talk about me?”

You cracked an eye open, frowning at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Lily,” he said, lazily dragging his gaze over your curvy body. “You told her we hooked up.”

You scoffed, your face heating up involuntarily. “I do not talk about you. For your information, it is very normal to tell your girlfriends about these types of things. You wouldn’t get it, XY chromosome.”

His smirk deepened as he let out a loud laugh. “Still. Just admit you talk about me a lot.”

You huffed sassily. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re fun to tease,” he replied easily, tilting his head back to enjoy the sun.

You tried to ignore him.

Tried to focus on the warmth against your skin and not on the fact that he looked fine as hell shirtless.

---

To Jungkook, Chaerin was the sun.

She introduced him to feelings he never knew, made him look at the world through rose-colored glasses. She was his motivation and his dream girl.

Chaerin was always the life of the party; she knew exactly what to do to cheer him up and make him forget all his troubles. She was so sweet, so pretty, so perfect—something he always wanted to protect, someone he could never get tired of, even if he tried, which he never would.

If comparing her to another girl came in question, Jungkook would laugh. There was truly no girl that could compare to his Chaerin.

They met through Lily when he was studying abroad in Australia. Chaerin was Lily’s roommate at the time, but she moved back to Chicago with her now fiancée, Sophia, which led to Jungkook taking her place as Chaerin’s roommate.

After that, they became closer and closer.

Chaerin immediately knew about Jungkook’s infatuation with her. She loved that he had a soft spot for her. She loved that his eyes lit up when he would see her. She loved the way he treated her as if she were the only person in the entire world. She loved the fact that he loved her.

Jungkook loved so very deeply. He put all his energy and effort into making sure she felt safe and loved. He was never caught lacking.

They became a couple, but that was short-lived. At one point, Chaerin went back to Korea for a while, leaving Jungkook alone with his thoughts in Australia for the last few months of his semester abroad.

He loved Chaerin when she was in his arms, and he loved her when she was gone. He loved her when she was distant, when she was unsure, and when she gave him nothing to work with. Nothing Chaerin could do would change the way Jungkook viewed her.

She was an angel.

She never called back after. He would see her posts on social media; she was happy, glowing, and living her best life. He was happy for her, but it hurt him to be so trivial in her life that she so easily forgot him.

A long line of unopened text messages was Jungkook’s last straw; he would not text or call her again.

Over time, his feelings for her weakened, and his attempts to forget how she made him feel were semi-successful.

But somehow, seeing her in front of him again, any leftover anger dissolved into thin air; he was just happy to see his Chaerin again.

“Hi,” the simple word left his lips, but his eyes spoke a thousand words more.

Chaerin softly smiled at him before unexpectedly throwing her small body into his. He immediately wrapped his strong arms around her and inhaled her peony scent.

“Hey,” she whispered against him. “I missed you, Jungkook.”

Those words meant more than the world to him.

As they broke off the hug, his hands were still on her shoulders.

“I missed you too,” he admitted sheepishly. “So… what have you been up to?”

“I’ve been good…” Chaerin spoke, her usual sweetness evident. “I got bored of Seoul, so I thought I’d come back to Sydney for a while.”

Jungkook was not surprised by that; he knew Chaerin was an indecisive person.

“Well… it’s really good to see you again,” he stated before removing his hands from her shoulders.

Chaerin simply smiled, but that was enough to make Jungkook melt.

---

You were all ready for dinner; you had put on an elegant blue dress that beautifully pronounced your body and stepped out of the room with newfound confidence.

Lily and her dad were setting the table while her mom watched over them, making sure everything was perfect for Tariq.

“Yn, you must feel weird attending a wedding after everything,” Lily’s mom spoke, not particularly taunting, just very audaciously.

Lily’s parents had always felt like you were their own daughter, which came with immense love and warmth that you always appreciated, but it unfortunately also included their entitlement to your privacy. You loved them regardless, but it did annoy you.

The tension was thick; Tariq could enter at any moment, Lily’s parents couldn’t stop mentioning how “Tariq is the perfect guy for any girl,” and you sat silently, not allowing yourself to say something that you might regret later.

“Yn was actually the one to break it off, so… I don’t see how she’d feel weird,” Jungkook suddenly defended you, irritation evident in his voice.

You froze at his words. They didn’t shock you, per se; it was simply a little unexpected. The rest of the people in the room exchanged looks of something unexplainable.

Chaerin looked between you and Jungkook with questioning eyes before reverting her gaze back to what she was doing.

Lily’s mom wore a puzzled expression on her face, confused as to why Jungkook felt the need to defend you so harshly. “It’s not about who broke up with whom; it’s about the principle. I know yn has always dreamt of being a bride.”

You knew she didn’t mean any harm, but your cheeks warmed in embarrassment at her statement. Jungkook looked at you from the side with slightly furrowed brows, while Chaerin awkwardly coughed.

“People change,” you pointed out, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. “And I’m truly okay; I promise. I do not regret my decision, but I kind of don’t want this topic to come up again, especially when Tariq gets here.”

Before Lily’s mom could respond, the doorbell rang, and Sophia quickly got up to open it.

“Perfect timing,” Sophia mumbled as she brushed her hands on her linen pants and walked toward the front door.

You sat up straighter in your chair, pushing a loose strand behind your ear again just to do something. Your stomach tightened as you heard the familiar, polite tone of Sophia greeting him: “Tariq! So good to see you.”

Then the front door closed, footsteps echoed down the hall, and suddenly, there he was.

Tariq stepped into the dining area with the same composed, polished energy he always carried. Tall, clean-cut, his curls a little longer than you remembered, with that annoyingly perfect posture. He smiled when his eyes landed on you; somehow, that made you feel worse.

“Yn,” he said, warm and casual, like no time had passed, exactly like he used to say it. “You look beautiful.”

You stood up halfway, lips curving into a polite smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Hey. You look good too.”

Your eyes darted toward Lily, who was nervously fiddling with the edge of a placemat, and then to her parents, who were beaming as if their own son had returned.

Jungkook muttered something under his breath that you didn’t catch, but you felt the heat of his eyes grazing over your chest again. You didn’t even need to look. You could feel it: slow, deliberate, amused.

You subtly turned toward him. “Eyes up,” you murmured.

He just smirked, leaned in slightly, and whispered, “Can’t help it when you wear that.”

You rolled your eyes and sat back down, but your face betrayed you with a small smile. You hated that he always managed to get a reaction out of you; you hated it even more that part of you didn’t hate the attention.

Tariq took the seat across the table from you, and for a moment, the room fell into a stiff, formal kind of silence. Lily’s dad tried to break it by pouring wine; Sophia made herself busy adjusting place cards that didn’t need adjusting. Chaerin kept sneaking glances at Jungkook, her expression unreadable.

“So,” Lily’s mom said, trying to brighten the mood. “Tariq, how was the flight?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “Everything went smoothly. This house is beautiful, by the way.”

“Oh, stop,” she blushed, clearly delighted. “We’re just glad you could make it, you’ll be sleeping in the room facing ours. And yn—” she turned back to you, and your stomach braced again, “You and Jungkook are sharing a room, yes?”

You hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. Apparently, there weren’t enough rooms.”

Tariq raised his brows at that but didn’t comment. You knew he was itching to say something.

Chaerin, though, lifted her gaze. “Wait, you two are… sharing a room?”

There it was. That slight tilt of her head, the flicker of something you couldn’t place in her tone.

Jungkook leaned forward lazily, resting his elbows on the table, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “Yeah. One bed. Cozy setup.”

You shot him a glare beneath your lashes, but he looked entirely unbothered—smug, even.

“That’s.. interesting,” Chaerin said, her voice tight but controlled.

“It wasn’t our idea,” you replied quickly. “It’s just logistics.”

“Really efficient logistics,” Jungkook added, taking a sip of his wine.

Sophia raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. She was the only one at the table who seemed to genuinely enjoy the mess, as she wasn’t involved in it.

You rubbed your temple and murmured, “You are not making this easier.”

“Didn’t realize I was supposed to.”

The next ten minutes dragged; small talk, wine refills. Lily’s mom kept trying to get you and Tariq closer together. It made you think that maybe you should have stayed back home.

Chaerin smiled too tightly at things Jungkook said. Tariq was polite, maybe too polite, and you couldn’t tell if it was his usual charm or calculated calm.

You were certain there must at least be a little bit of anger toward you brewing inside him.

And Jungkook? He kept leaning toward you, knees brushing under the table, glancing over whenever you spoke. It was as if he wanted to send a signal.

You just couldn’t identify what exactly.

---

Later that night, when things had calmed down and most of the house was either asleep or winding down in their rooms, you stepped out onto the back patio to get some air.

The noise and forced small talk from dinner had given you a slight headache, and you needed to breathe somewhere quiet.

You heard the sliding glass door open behind you, followed by footsteps.

Jungkook.

He walked up beside you, holding two glasses of water. He offered you one. You took it.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low.

You sipped your water and gave him a side glance. “Peachy.”

He smirked a little. “Dinner was awkward.”

“Yeah…”

A brief silence stretched between you two. It wasn’t awkward.

And then you just asked, casually yet obviously curious: “So… you and Chaerin?”

Jungkook went still beside you—not in a dramatic way, just quiet. Then he let out a short breath. “Yeah.”

You nodded slowly, processing it.

It made sense; they could look good together.

“We met when I was here for that semester abroad. Lily introduced us,” he added, voice careful, almost like he was making sure not to dwell too much or share too much information.

Not because he didn’t want you to know, but because he didn’t want to look pathetic in front of you.

You didn’t say anything, just took another sip.

“She broke up with me before I left for Korea. Said she didn’t want to do long distance, but she came back here once I went back to Chicago.”

His tone wasn’t bitter by any means, but it wasn’t quite neutral either.

You turned toward him slightly. “Are you still into her?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked out at the dark water, jaw tense. Then, “It’s not that simple.”

Which, to you, meant yes.

You nodded again. “Hm.”

Something about that revelation planted a seed.

Because now it made sense why he stood up for you and flirted with you right in front of her. Why he didn’t seem to care about you two sharing a room—about the proximity. Why he kept looking at you like you were some sort of useful distraction. It was all a ploy to make her jealous.

Or at least you thought so.

And you weren’t offended; you were cooking up a brilliantly ridiculous idea in your head.

He wanted to get her back—or at the very least, get to her.

You needed Tariq and his fan club to back off.

You looked over at Jungkook again. “Thanks for sticking up for me at dinner.”

He tilted his head, squinting slightly. “Didn’t like how she was talking to you.”

You let the silence hang for a moment, then turned to walk back inside.

This could actually work.

You didn’t say anything yet, but the idea was there, ready to be implemented.

---

You couldn’t sleep. To be fair, you weren’t trying to; you were lying on your side, trying to gather the courage to tell Jungkook about your idea.

He wasn’t sleeping either; his breathing wasn’t even, and he wasn’t snoring, and you knew for a fact he snored when he slept.

The only light that was on was the moonlight shining through the window.

“Jungkook,” you simply said, which warranted a “hm?” from him. “Are you awake?”

He turned to you, now facing you. You could tell he was a little sleepy. “Yeah… everything all right?”

You nodded, your lips slightly pouty. Jungkook’s eyes were studying your face, like they often did, but this time you felt a little smaller than usual; it was more intense for some reason.

Your legs were touching a little, his hands very subtly brushing against your waist before he removed them.

Jungkook suddenly sat up straight, prompting you to do so as well. He looked over at you.

“What are you thinking about?” he broke the silence, his head resting against the headboard and glancing down at you.

You sighed, mimicking his movement.

“Nothing,” you replied softly, your eyes now focused on your hands that were resting in your lap. “…Actually, there is something.”

Jungkook nodded, encouraging you to continue with a look in his eyes.

“So…” you hesitantly continued. “I was thinking… Tariq is here, and… Lily’s parents are just… ugh, and Chaerin… and I-”

He chuckled lightly at your confusing sentence. “Are you going somewhere with this?”

You sent him a pointed look. “Yes, ugh, just let me finish.”

Jungkook held his hands up in surrender, that lazy smile tugging at his lips.

You took a breath before spitting it out, “I think we should fake date.”

There was a semi-long beat of silence.

He blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Rolling your eyes, you said, “You heard me.”

He stared at you for another couple of seconds, his facial expression a mixture of confusion and amusement. “Did I fall asleep and miss the part where we turned thirteen again?”

You groaned, shoving his shoulder. “Please don’t be annoying.”

“I’m not! I’m just surprised,” he said, laughing softly now. “You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You just… annoy me sometimes.”

His grin widened. “Right. And now you want to date me.”

“Fake date you. Besides, I could tolerate you. I’m a great actress.”

Jungkook tilted his head, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Why?”

You glanced down at your lap again, picking at your fingers. “Because Lily’s parents won’t stop talking about Tariq, and Tariq is here now, and Chaerin is here, and everyone is either watching me or watching you. I just thought maybe we could make it easier on each other.”

You paused. Then, a little quieter, you added, “You want Chaerin to regret dumping you, right?”

That caught his attention. His playful expression faltered, if only slightly. You continued.

“She’ll see you moving on. With someone else. Someone you know from back home,” you added, flicking your eyes toward him meaningfully. “Believe me, it’ll drive her crazy.”

Little by little, he slowly looked like he was considering the offer.

“And,” you added, “you’ll be allowed to kiss me and touch me. Whenever you want. Wherever you want.”

He didn’t say anything for a long second.

Then he blew out a soft breath and shook his head, laughing under his breath. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

You smiled sweetly and unbothered, batting your eyelashes at him. “Is that a yes?”

Jungkook’s eyes dropped to your lips. Then lower. The shirt you were wearing had shifted slightly when you leaned forward, exposing a bit more of your chest. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than it probably should have. Then he looked back at your face.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “Okay. I’m in.”

You both sat in silence for a moment.

“We need rules,” you said firmly, shifting into a more business-like tone.

He groaned dramatically. “Oof… alright.”

“Rules are what will make this believable, you idiot.”

He smirked. “Fine. Hit me.”

You raised a finger. “Number one: no unnecessary touching.”

Jungkook gave you a look. “Define unnecessary.”

“You know what I mean.”

“See, I feel like what you define as unnecessary, I define as method acting,” he said with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Gotta stay in character.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You just want an excuse to get handsy.”

“Not true. I’d get handsy regardless.”

You huffed. “Fine, but no touching when we’re alone.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because that’s where people catch feelings,” you deadpanned. “and it defeats the purpose of the act.”

He raised both hands again. “Alright, alright.”

“That’s rule number two,” you said. “No catching real feelings.”

“That won’t be a problem for me,” he confidently spoke. “For you, on the other hand…”

You hit him on the shoulder, which immediately shut him up, but not without a chuckle.

You continued, “We don’t tell anyone it’s fake. Not even Lily.”

Jungkook simply nodded. “Okay, my turn.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You have rules?”

“Just one,” he said, shifting a little closer, voice lower. “You don’t get to flinch when I touch you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You act like my hand is made of fire every time I go near you. Doesn’t exactly sell the whole ‘crazy about each other’ thing.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Fine. But don’t be weird about it.”

“I’m never weird,” he said with a wink.

You looked at him pointedly.

“Okay, rarely weird.”

There was another moment of silence, your knees brushing as you sat facing each other, before you both lay back down.

“Goodnight, baby.”

You didn’t say anything to that, at least not right away.

“Don’t call me that,” you finally muttered, turning onto your side to face the other way.

“Get used to it,” Jungkook said, his voice already muffled by the pillow. “We’re in love now, remember?”

You could hear the smile in his voice.

And then, silence again. A comfortable one, strangely.

You fell asleep smiling.

---

hey babes, college is beating my ass rn sigh 🙃 i have like legit no idea what to do with my already existing imagines (if you have ideas or suggestions for any of them, send them my way), so here’s a new one (a thousand years of absence) 😛 hope you enjoy this 😇💗

[loveemagicpeace]

🏹Astrology Notes 🛼

People with many aspects of Neptune, especially Neptune Square North Node, can get into bad paths (alcohol, drugs...) many times they look for a solution by running away from problems. In life, they struggle with many difficult, incomprehensible, strange things. They may come across many people who deceive them.

Pluto opp chiron - can illustrate that you never really get over your traumas that were inflicted on you when you were little. Many times you can carry a swordsman's side inside you and never really let it go.

Mercury opp chiron- you have a hard time expressing or talking about your pain. It can often take a really long time to talk about what's bothering you.

Mercury conj Pluto- you can always be secretive about what you say. It could also be that a part of you is always hidden behind words.

The aspect of the moon and Saturn indicates the relationship the person has with his mother. People who have very strong aspects with the moon and saturn can be very attached to their mother and the mother has a great influence on them. It also shows that this person is not emotionally open and can always keep their feelings inside.

Dynamic aspects (opposition, square, inconjunction, semi-square) between Saturn and Jupiter indicate that a person can be full of hope at one moment and completely desperate at the next. These aspects are often associated with suicide. Because people can hardly bear such strong energy.

There are differences: Sagittarius is much more changeable than Jupiter, more freedom-loving and irresponsible. Sagittarius is less likely to symbolize the acquisition of material goods. Also, being a sign and therefore a less powerful symbol than a planet, it is less likely than Jupiter to operate at an excessive level. Sagittarius is less likely to signify waste, excess, or arrogance. Sagittarius gets along best with planets like Mars, Uranus, and the Sun, which are fast-moving, energetic, and not resistant to change.

Strongly emotional planets do not do well in Capricorn because the sign tends to repress emotion in favor of discipline. The Moon is particularly difficult here, because Capricorn will not allow the Moon to enjoy being dependent on others, a mode of relationship that is absolutely essential to the Moon’s functioning at some point in life. Venus is also not at its best, because its emotional criteria for choice are likely to be subordinated to practical criteria. Venus in Capricorn can also indicate an attraction to older persons who can serve as authority figures as well as lovers.

The Pisces symbol is two fishes swimming in opposite directions, and like Sagittarius and Gemini, Pisces is traditionally referred to as a dual sign. There are two types of Piscean: the advanced (Pisces as the last stage in the evolution of the archetypal ego or self) and the primitive (Pisces as the stage just prior to a new beginning in Aries).

Pluto in the 3rd house can represent a very strong bond with a sister. So separation with your sister can very difficult if you live far apart. You can create a beautiful and strong bond with your sister.

Mars in the 5th house indicates a difficult birth and problems with children. Children may be restless, aggressive or angry. It is important to look at aspects.

Jupiter in the 9th house often indicates good intuition and prophetic dreams. So it is important to remember your dreams.

Virgo rising people are so beautiful. I notice that women have beautiful faces and skin. Men, on the other hand, have well-developed eyes and bodies. I would say that virgins can have more beautiful beauty than technical ones in the subsign. Otherwise, it depends on where Mercury falls in the house, but still, their beauty is very naturally beautiful.

Moon in the third house indicates sensitive emotions and feelings. Moods change quickly.

The Moon in the fifth house indicates great success for children. Also a  person very dedicated to fun.

Moon in the sixth house can mean too much strain in terms of health. Lots of public contact. It can also mean insecurity and health problems in the first 7 years.

Mars in 7th house can mean that the individual is too open in relationships and dealings. It can also mean that he is jealous, intense and controlling.

Mars in the 11th house means you can be argumentative and want things your way. Many times the need for freedom is strong.

Mars in 12th house- the individual is interested in hidden things. You can join things that are secret. You like to work in the shadows. And you present your things when you are sure of them.

Uranus in the first house often shows that your personality is very unique and special. You have an energy that others find rare and interesting. You are a person who does not like drug treatment and prefers to find a different way (natural way of treatment). You want a job that is free and you don't like being controlled by others.

Uranus in the seventh house indicates premature engagement or marriage. It also means inharmonious relationships (if the aspects are not good). It also indicates a relationship in which one is ingenious and clever.

Uranus in ten house people are prone to emotional or physical loss through one parent. It is said that people with this position are also inclined to have two professions at the same time. It is important for women to check if her Uranus is in the 10th house of a man. Because this can indicate that the man is more focused on his career than her.

A person with mercury in the 9th house will always know at least 2 foreign languages, if not more. These people learn foreign languages very quickly and quickly understand others. They often prefer foreign languages.

Mars in Libra -A person can be quarrelsome and inharmonious. But it's not always like that. It depends on what aspects the person has. Person can be very passive aggressive and hides a lot of their energy. Many times they do something, but in reality they want something completely different. They can place the blame on others in many cases unless the person has Venus in good stabile sign.

Chart ruler of 8th house in 5th house -if it is  in bad aspects, it can indicate the possibility of miscarriage, loss of a child at birth or in youth.

Chart ruler  of 8th house in 8th house symbolizes benefit from the dead. Interest in immortality, spirituality. If the ruler is in an bad position then there can be problems with dying.

Chart ruler of the 9th house in 4th house travel is necessary for family matters. Property comes from relatives and partner.

Chart ruler of the 9th house in 6th house means handling due to travel. As well as good success abroad. If the aspects are in an unfavorable position, it can mean illness while traveling.

Chart ruler of the 9th house in 7th house means marriage in a foreign country or marriage with a foreigner. It often symbolizes a person living in another country. If it is in an unfavorable position, it may mean that relatives oppose the marriage.

The ruler of the 10th house in the 1st house- can mean a lot of ambition and talents. But it can mean loss due to father.

The ruler of the 10th house in the 6th house- symbolizes a humble position in society. Treatment can be an important part of an individual's life. If the aspects are bad, it can mean loss of career due to health.

Ruler of 10th house in 7th house- indicates benefit from public. Lawsuits are positive and marriage can bring fame.

Ruler of the 10th house in the 11th house - symbolizes the fulfillment of dreams. Strong and influential friends help the individual.

-Rebekah🧚🏻‍♀️🦋

[alrightieaphroditie]

wipe my tears away | j.m.

*:·ﾟ✧ series masterlist | previous part!

pairing *:·ﾟ afab!reader x joel miller wc *:·ﾟ6.6k  warnings *:·ﾟ18+! minors please do not interact!! talk of period pain, hormonal emotions, crying, kissing, some manhandling (if you squint), sad attempt at dirty talk, period play (lightly), fingering, maybe some degradation (not really sure), clit stimulation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f receiving), squirting/messy cum, p in v penetration (not protected, do better!), one mention of blood… please let me know if i’m missing any major ones!  an *:·ﾟthis is for the girlies who get over emotional during their periods (they are me, i am them). this is a bit longer than intended, but once i got in the zone i literally couldn’t stop, so i hope y’all will enjoy it! kind of unedited, so if anything major jumps out feel free to comment lol. i also wrote this with correct capitalization, where all my previous fics were lowercase bc i couldn’t be bothered to turn on auto caps, so let me know if y’all prefer this format!  check the series masterlist for the series tags!

synopsis *:·ﾟ joel comes home to find you laying in bed, crying because of period pain. he may not be a full gentleman, but he wouldn’t let you suffer when he has a trick up his sleeve to help sooth the cramps. 

The pain that begins in your lower abdomen, the feeling that radiates throughout the rest of your lower body with enough force to make you wince, isn’t entirely new. It’s a monthly occurrence, actually. One that you feel like you should be used to by now, considering it’s plagued you for more than half your life. 

But the outbreak had already happened when you first got your period as a teen, and for a while, your body wasn’t receiving the nutrients it needed to sustain that kind of function. It was a double-edged sword, the way you were appreciative that you haven’t had it this bad your entire life, while ruminating on the losses that occurred due to the infection. 

Because it was a different story, now. 

Now, you were eating more than you could ever remember before. Jackson was a thriving community, after all. And you were beyond blessed that you were one of the lucky ones who got to reside within its gates. Now, your body was properly fed and being taken care of for the first time in years, and that double-edged sword reared in your mind again; thankful for the safe space you’ve landed upon, but God, at what cost? Your period pain took you out for days each month, making you feel like a burden even though you physically couldn’t help it. 

Your toe stubbed against a chair in your living room as another cramp worked its way through your body, causing you to cry out for more than one reason. Tears filled your waterline, and a heavy sigh escaped past your lips. The rough material of your jeans was digging into your waistline, your hair felt heavy against your neck and each strand that brushed against your cheek made you want to cut it off, and you just felt so useless. Some logical part of your brain realized this wasn’t really you feeling this way, it was just the hormonal shift, but that didn’t provide any sense of comfort as the tears continued to glide down your face. 

In some ways, you were lucky, as today had been your day off from helping around Jackson. Otherwise, that sense of being a burden to everyone would’ve increased tenfold. You couldn't stop feeling like a burden to yourself, though. You had made a perfectly organized to-do list that was hanging on your fridge of things you wanted to tackle today. 

Your sheets needed to be washed. The floors needed to be swept and mopped, especially after the rain, as Joel and Ellie continued to trek mud through your house by accident. Maria had given you some of the spices that grew in abundance, and you wanted to make one of those simmer pots on the stove that she kept mentioning. 

But doing those chores was the last thing on your mind right now, as another cramp racked its way through your body. Now, you just wanted to go lay in bed wearing nothing but Joel's shirt that you had thrown on earlier and cry while hugging a pillow.

 And so, that’s what you did. 

Your vision was watery as your fingers swiftly worked to unbutton your pants, your feet carrying you out of the living room and into your bedroom before you really even realized what you were doing. Once you hit your bedside, you tugged the jeans down your legs, letting them pool at your feet and leaving them on the ground as you crawl into bed, feeling about as pathetic as you probably looked. Curling up on your side, you reach out blindly and grab onto Joel's pillow, tucking it against your body and letting it provide you a false sense of comfort. After that, the tears start flowing freely. 

You didn’t know how long you laid there, didn’t know how long the sound of your sniffles had filled the room or how long you pressed the pillow against your abdomen. The cramps were still relentless, and it wasn’t like you even had any medicine you could take; expired Tylenol did absolutely nothing anymore. You wish you were more used to this feeling, this pain. But it seemed like the longer you were at Jackson, the worse the symptoms became each month. You had yet to figure out the remedies that were foolproof for this feeling. 

Continuous tears turned into lonely, stray droplets as you held onto the pillow. The room was silent except for the occasional sniff. You had zeroed in on an undone thread on the pillowcase, not paying attention to your surroundings, so you didn’t hear the sound of the front door being pushed open, or the sound of Joel's work boots stomping across the wooden floors. In the corners of your mind, you recognized the voice that was muttering to himself outside your room, but your eyes stayed focused on that singular thread. 

The thought of it being lonely, being apart from the other threads holding the fabric together, made your eyes water again. You could put yourself in its position, the ever present fear of being alone daunting you even now, and that was enough to send the tears over your waterline, racing down your cheeks and onto the pillow once again. The hiccup that came from your inhale was the noise that had the footfalls move towards your room, and through your blurry vision you saw the outline of Joel standing in the doorway. 

“What's wrong?” Through your sniffles, you could sense his urgency, his rough voice filled with nothing but concern, and maybe a little worry. His gaze swept over your body, checking for any possible injury. This was the first time he’d seen you break down to this level, and the sight of you curled into a fetal position, tears streaming down your face with his pillow in your grasp… he prayed to God that another person wasn’t involved with making you feel this way.

It would be a shame to lose his good reputation amongst Jackson because he had to beat some fucker up. 

Your gaze swung up to his face, and you made yourself blink harshly to expel the lingering tears. His face came into focus, the worry lines on his forehead becoming more clear to compliment the frown on his full lips. He had a spot of dirt streaking across his forehead, and his clothes were dirty from spending the day working outside. For whatever reason, the fact that Joel had been out working in the heat for most of the day while you couldn’t even manage to get up and wash your bedsheets made your emotions spiral even more. What is wrong with me? you wondered, hugging the pillow tighter to your body. 

The sound of his work bag hitting the floor echoed through the room, soon followed by the shuffle of his boots being kicked off his feet. His hands were gently pulling the pillow away before you could even register that he was in front of you now, but you felt the bed dip under his weight as he perched himself at the edge. His broad hand rested on your elbow before sliding up your arm, gently caressing your skin until he reached the side of your face. The calluses on his thumb scratched against your skin as he swiped the digit under your eye, wiping away the tears that had pooled. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” his voice was softer this time, comforting you in a way that had you feeling alright for the first time today. You leaned up on your elbows, and Joel helped guide you into a sitting position across from him, your hands holding on to one of his while his other cupped your face, thumb swiping against skin. The action of sitting up had your cramps rearing their ugly heads again, and your wince was subtle but extremely obvious to Joel, evident by the furrowing of his eyebrows. 

“My uterus is what’s wrong,” the scratchiness of your throat had you coughing slightly, and you worked to clear it before trying again, voice nearly as weak as you felt. “I'm on my period.” Joel's eyes widened in surprise at your admission, but he quickly schooled his features.

This wasn’t his first rodeo; he’d been with you for awhile now, but noticed that each month your symptoms were different. Sometimes, your sudden anger at everything gave away the fact that it was that time of the month. Other times, it was your sweet tooth and your cravings that gave it away. Rarely was it your tears, though, and his heart lurched at this new response. 

When your hands went to wrap around your stomach, applying pressure lightly to help ease the throbbing, his free hand came up to the other side of your face. “‘m sorry, darlin. Know that ain’t the best feeling in the world,” his thumbs were doing a stand up job at wiping away the tears on your cheeks, and soon the only sign that you had been crying was the red glaze surrounding your pupils. 

And the occasional sniffle. 

You leaned into his touch, eyes closing at the surprising amount of comfort that you felt from a pair of hands. You always felt at peace with Joel, though, so you weren’t surprised that his hands had this effect on you. You focused on the rough pads of his skin against the smooth texture of your own, taking in big breaths of air through your nose as your crying spell passed through you. Now you were thinking a little more clearly and felt a little embarrassed by the fact that Joel had walked in on you crying over a thread on a pillow case. Not that he’d ever know that’s what you were crying about. 

“It's okay. I'm sorry if i scared you or anything,” you started, opening your eyes to meet Joel's dark gaze. You offered him a small smile. “I really just need to learn how to deal with these cramps without them taking over my day. They seem to be getting worse and worse each month.” Your hands trailed up to grip his forearms, squeezing them affectionately as a wave of exhaustion flitted through your body. 

Joel's eyes squinted slightly. “Cramps, huh?” he mused, the corner of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. In the far corner of his mind, he recalled a younger Tommy swearing by a foolproof activity that helped one of his girlfriends with her cramps when medicine didn’t cut it. He wasn’t sure he believed Tommy then, or even now, for that matter. But he knew how much you struggled with the pain, and he’d feel like a real jerk if he didn’t at least give this a go. 

“Think I know somethin’ that could help with that.” He pulled your head forward, pressing a chaste kiss on top of your forehead before dropping his hands and pushing off of the bed. You were slightly dazed, partly at the display of affection but also at the quickness in which Joel was walking to the bathroom. When he came back into the room with an old towel, you couldn’t help but look at him suspiciously. 

“Joel…”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, tossing the towel on the bed and leaning down to look at you, eye to eye. His demeanor was calm, but his eyes shined with a hint of mischievousness, and the smirk on his mouth was nothing but trouble. It made him look younger, almost. Like the gray in his beard and around the temples of his hair was there prematurely. You wondered if he was like that more before the outbreak, and you reveled in this glimpse of his past self that he was allowing you to see. 

“Of course I do.” Your answer was absolute, eyes showing no signs of distrust or wariness as you maintained contact with Joel’s. He reveled in the sureness of your answer, in the fact that it didn’t even take you more than a second to respond to his question. The smirk became a full blown grin, and you couldn’t help but mirror it on your own face as you wondered what the heck this man was thinking. 

“Good. In that case, I'm gonna go clean myself up,” his lips pressed against yours in a swift kiss before he backed away, fingers stretching to the hem of his t-shirt. “You’re gonna strip out of those panties, spread that towel out underneath you, and wait for me to come back. Okay?” One of his eyebrows notched up, awaiting your response. 

“Sir, yes, sir,” you teased, sending him off with a mocking salute. It earned you an eye roll, something he had been picking up more and more from Ellie's influence, no doubt. The sound of your giggle followed him into the bathroom, where he quickly worked to discard his dirty clothes and rinse off. The thought of you laying in bed with just his t-shirt on had him adjusting himself underneath the water stream. 

Meanwhile, you were working at a slower pace. 

You gingerly took the threadbare towel between your hands, kneeling up on your knees to place it where you thought would work best. You were starting to get an idea of what Joel was planning, and while you’ve never done anything like this before, you weren’t absolutely hating it. After you had smoothed the fabric out, you climbed back against the pillows, hooking your thumbs under the waistband of your panties and sliding them down. The pad on the inside showed slight signs of blood, so at least you weren’t bleeding too heavily right now. Usually that came after a day or two of the cramps. 

You were combing your fingers through your hair when Joel walked back into the room, pausing at the threshold while you both took each other in. His hair was damp, droplets of water occasionally dripping on his forehead, brushed back at the edges and the tops to keep it out of his face. He had been growing it out a little longer, though you knew when summer fully came around, it’d be time to clip it. 

He’d changed out of a plain, gray t-shirt into another plain, gray t-shirt - clearly a staple in his wardrobe - and you had to admire the way he was filling it out. The sleeves hugged the middle of his biceps, straining against the pure muscle that had been building up. The shirt fit loose around his chest, but you could see the way it was snug around his tummy area, the small pouch of his stomach highlighted by the thin material. 

You weren’t the only one who had been eating better since arriving at Jackson; Joel was starting to bulk up and you were loving it. 

Having ended his workday earlier, and foreseeing spending the rest of the day in bed with you, he had pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants that clung to his thighs and offered very little to the imagination when it came to the thick imprint between his legs. The sight of him had your thighs clenching together automatically, heat racing through your body like a fever. 

And he knew it, too. You could tell by the smirk on his lips, the way his gaze strayed from your eyes to your legs. He loved having that affect on you, loved seeing how needy you became by just the thought of being with him. 

He walked to the other side of the bed, his eyes focused solely on you in his red shirt, the way your legs were crossed at the bottom, giving him just the smallest peak of bare skin underneath. You listen to him so well, he couldn’t help but admire. You gave him your trust so easily, and that was one of the few things that Joel considered to be precious in this world. He'd never make you regret that choice. 

Leaning up on your elbows, your body naturally turned towards him when he finally settled himself on his side next to you. One of his arms slipped behind your head, tucking you into his body as the other came up to guide your face to his. His lips were soft against your own, and all the tension you had felt from crying earlier completely disappeared. 

Your hands clung to his arm as he kissed you, a soft sigh escaping through your lips. Joel took the opening to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip before dipping it into your mouth. Your mind was growing fuzzy, and you simply let Joel manipulate you how he wanted, eagerly offering yourself to him. 

His mouth stayed on yours, your noses brushing against each other with every tilt of the head, but his hand strayed from your cheek. It paved a path to the collar of the t-shirt, where he fisted the material and tugged it towards himself, halfway pulling you on top of him with the movement. Your hands flung out to his chest to stop yourself from completely crashing into him, and a groan sounded against your mouth as Joel felt the tips of your fingers dig into the skin. 

He soon abandoned the collar, letting his palm slide down the expanse of your torso and bunching the shirt up a little before settling it right over your lower abdomen, fingers splayed out wide against your bare skin. The heat radiating from his palm on your skin was like your own personal heating pad; the soreness that ebbed from your cramps seemed to dissipate the longer his hand rested against your skin, the action making your head spin as you focused on breathing through your nose as Joel’s tongue traced along yours. 

Joel’s mouth trailed from your lips down to your jaw, down to your neck. The stubble growing on his face scratched at your skin when he nuzzled himself in the crook of your neck, causing a combination of a laugh and a moan to flutter past your lips. You could feel him smile against your skin before nipping at it gently, using his lips and tongue to ebb the slight pain away. You could feel him sucking at your skin, and you knew in the morning you’d regret the red and purple marks that would litter your skin, but right now, the feeling was absolute heaven. 

“Spread those legs for me, baby.” The words were whispered against your skin, accompanied by a quick tap to your thighs. You didn’t hesitate to obey; your left leg fell to the side while you rested your right leg on top of Joel's. His hand slipped from your stomach to your upper thigh, gripping the fleshy inside as he helped adjust it higher on his body. 

The cool air from the fan had you shivering as it made contact with your bare skin, emphasizing the wet slick that had formed between your legs. Joel's mouth found itself back on yours, his kiss turning punishing, almost, as his hand slowly moved down your inner thigh; his teeth were biting and pulling at your lower lip, his fingers were digging into your skin as he kneaded and gripped your thigh. 

“Joel,” you mewled, stretching up slightly to angle your hips closer to his hand. You were settled in the crook of his elbow, and his arm came up to bare against your throat ever so slightly. He essentially had you in a headlock, and you were helpless to anything he administered. Goosebumps prickled along your skin, and you whined once more when his fingers brushed against the crease of your leg. 

“Shh, s’okay, baby. Let me take care of you,” his words were soothing, soft. A complete contrast to the way he was handling your body, and it was all you could do but nod in response, eyes wide and trusting as they held contact with him. His pupils were so dilated that you could barely see the rim of brown, even this close. 

Another sharp tap to your inner thigh had you gasping, and Joel's mouth formed into a smirk as his calloused fingers eased the spot. You’d like to blame the hormones fluttering around your body for the desperation you were feeling for Joel, but part of you knew that he simply just had this affect on you. You always grew so needy for his attention, for his touch. Being with him was the only time your brain truly shut off and allowed you to feel safe, relaxed. 

His fingertips were stroking the inside of your thigh like it was the strings on one of his guitars, a slow but firm sensation that had you humming; he was playing a different kind of instrument with you. You could feel yourself growing slicker, the bubble in your chest expanding as he teased you, touched you. 

“Joel, please…” you trailed off, turning your head to the side and bumping the edge of his jaw with your nose. His gaze had slipped to where his fingers were caressing your skin, basking in the suppleness of your skin that so vastly compared to the roughness of his. You felt like a dream. 

“Such pretty manners,.” he mocked, grinning to himself before meeting your eyes once more. “Since you asked nicely, though…” The kiss he pressed on your nose was soft, but your focus was on how his fingers were finally crossing over the crease in your thigh, finally trailing down to your core. 

The first swipe of his fingers through your folds had a small moan emit from your mouth, and a curse came from Joel’s as he felt how wet you were already. “Shit, baby,” he muttered to himself more than anything, watching his fingers as he lifted them up into the light to see the shine. Chest heaving, you watched as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, watched as he placed them on his tongue before closing his lips around the digits and sucking on them while he pulled them out. 

His fingers were now wet with his spit, evident by the thin strand of saliva still connecting his mouth to his fingers. The sight alone had your toes curling against the mattress, your mouth open slightly as you watched him bring his hand back down to your pussy. Your breath left you as his second swipe was firmer, the tips of his fingers passing along your clit for a brief moment before moving back down. 

His forearm flexed slightly against your neck, his free hand moving down to brush against the top of your chest. One of your hands moved to grip his arm, nails digging into skin ever so slightly as Joel’s fingers brushed your entrance, swirling around slightly to gather the wetness that had formed. A soft sigh left his mouth as he felt you, and the next moment, two of his fingers were swiftly pushing inside of you. 

“Joel!” You gasped out, back arching into his touch as he pumped his fingers into you once, twice, three times before pulling them out. Joel huffed out a laugh at your whine from the loss of contact, glancing down at you to see your reaction to him circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. He was rewarded with the softest of sighs, and the sight of your eyes rolling shut while your mouth parted open. 

He didn’t hesitate to capture your lips with his, his mouth against yours as firm as his thumb on your clit. The kiss was quick, and Joel’s nose brushed against yours as he pulled back ever so slightly. “Such a pretty girl, achin’ for me to fill you up. My fingers feel real nice against your pussy now, don't they, baby?” 

A short and snappy nod was your form of a response, as you were solely focused on the way Joel’s middle finger was circling your clit now. Your hips bucked up as waves of pleasure wracked your body, Joel’s expert fingers bringing you relief you so desperately needed. The action had Joel smirking above you, had his hips grinding slightly against your thigh in a sad attempt at getting some friction for his now hard cock. 

Joel pulled back from his admissions on your clit, sliding his middle finger through the center of you before slowly inserting it back inside you. The gasp that left your mouth was music to his ears, and he began moving it in and out, curling it up once it was fully inside your wet pussy. Head falling back against Joel’s arm, your legs widening even further as Joel picked up a steady rhythm with his one finger. 

“So good, Joel,” you rasped, voice breathless as Joel’s finger curled against the spongy part inside of you that had your body jerking in response. Licking your lips, you pulled the bottom lip into your mouth, teeth sinking in as the pleasure continued to build up in your body. Your right hand moved to rest on his wrist, while the other stayed gripping his left forearm. 

Basking in your praise, Joel withdrew his middle finger and, when he pumped it back inside, added his ring finger. The addition had you groaning, feeling his two fingers stretch you out slowly as he pushed them inside and pulled them out. You felt Joel’s lips press against your forehead as he worked to pick up the pace, and soon all that could be heard in the room was the wet sound of your pussy being fucked by his fingers. 

“God, I could listen to you all night,” he mumbled, curling his fingers in a “come here” motion inside you and marveling at how drenched you sounded. “So fuckin’ wet for me, sweetheart. Haven’t even taken my cock yet, either, you needy thing.” 

His words only sparked the fire inside your chest even more, and soon you were moaning his name over and over again in some kind of sick prayer as he filled you with his fingers. Your mouth dropped open as his thumb moved to glide against your clit, pleasure radiating throughout your body. 

Your fingers dug half-moon indentions in Joel’s tanned skin as the waves of pleasure finally crested. 

Your body went rigid in his hold as your orgasm peaked, his fingers never ceasing in motion as your hips began to shake against his hand. He muttered soft praises as you came, moving his arm from across your chest and intertwining your fingers with his. You gasped for air as you came down, thighs twitching ever so slightly as you soon became putty against Joel’s body. 

Only then did he pull his fingers out from inside of you. He kissed your forehead once more, cupping your drenched pussy with the palm of his hand. Your chest was heaving still from the orgasm, body feeling tired once more but for a completely different reason. Resting your head back on Joel’s arm, you glance up at him, expecting him to move his hand away and maybe help you clean up. 

Instead, Joel’s dark gaze was solely focused on your pussy again. Instead of moving his hand away, he slowly moved it up your center, stopping only when his middle finger brushed against your clit. He moved his hand to the side slightly, letting the tips of his other fingers brush against the sensitive nub, before sliding it the other way. His action was slow, methodical even. 

“Joel,” you ventured, squeezing his hand that rested in yours. His jaw twitched, but that was the only response you got. He leaned up on his elbow, your hand moving up along the mattress as he did so. Now, your interlaced hands rested above you, on the pillow, as Joel’s upper body hovered on top of yours. 

Ever so slowly, Joel resumed the movement of his hand, sliding to one side before moving it to the other. His fingers all brushed against your clit, and the overstimulation you felt had your thighs closing together. 

“Keep ‘em open, baby.” Joel admonished, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. His free hand pushed away your left leg before returning back to your clit, and you swore you could feel the wetness lingering on your skin from him doing so. The roughness of the towel underneath you prickled at your skin as your hips twitched from the continued pleasure. 

“Joel,” you ventured again, this time more of a plea than anything. Tears formed on your waterline when he picked up the pace, his hand firmly rubbing against your clit each time he moved it. That bubble of pleasure formed more quickly in your chest, the feeling fiery and almost suffocating as Joel’s movements were relentless. 

“Give me one more,” his voice was rough, distant. “Just one more.” His hand dipped to cup your pussy once more, gliding up through your folds and moving the wetness from there up to your clit. The added lubrication and friction as Joel increased his pace had you crying out, body arching forward at the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your orgasm approached much faster this time, and you could feel your slick dripping down your skin onto the towel. “Oh my God,” you whimpered, your hand painfully holding onto Joel’s while the other, which had moved to rest on his hip, gripped his t-shirt. “Oh, God.” 

This time, when you came, the bubble dropped from your chest and to your stomach and your body went limp as soon as your orgasm tore through you. Your mind was a haze of euphoria, and if you were more cognizant you would have been embarrassed at the feeling of your wetness squirting out from you, would have felt heated at the way Joel praised your body. Instead, you were blissfully gone, basking in the sensation that only Joel’s fingers knew how to bring you. 

Joel’s hand slipped from yours as he pulled his arm up from underneath you, and before you were even aware of the shift, he was up on his knees, moving in between your legs and tugging his flannel pants down. “Gotta fuck you, baby. Jesus Christ, you came so good for me.” His hands bracketed your head as he leaned up against your body, the head of his leaking cock pressed against your wet slit. 

You hummed at his praise, wrapping your weak arms around his neck as you shifted your thighs a little wider to accommodate for his hips. You weren’t entirely sure you could handle another orgasm, but you knew you were desperate to have him inside of you. His head ducked down to yours, and you enthusiastically pressed your lips against his, enveloping his hips with your legs in consent. 

With a nip at your bottom lip, he slowly pressed the tip of his cock in between your folds, gathering the wetness that had accumulated near your entrance before moving his hips even further. The head of his cock pushed into your pussy, stretching you out even more than his fingers did previously. Joel groaned into your mouth as he pumped his hips slightly, pulling out of you before sinking just the tip inside you again.  

“Fuck, sweetheart. My fingers didn’t stretch out your pussy enough, huh? S’fuckin’ tight as hell around my cock.” One of his hands came to brush aside your hair, cupping the side of your face gently while his hips snapped into yours. You cried out against his mouth, the feeling of being filled so suddenly causing you to wince slightly. You welcomed this pain, however, as it quickly gave way to pleasure the more Joel rocked his hips against yours. 

Joel rested his hips against yours for a moment, his head falling down to your chest as he reveled in the tightness surrounding his cock. His breaths came out in short pants, the hand laying next to your head turning into a fist against the mattress. Your hips move up slightly, seeking out the pleasure even after coming twice before, and it brings Joel in further, causing you both to curse. 

“So desperate for me to fuck you,” Joel’s words are accented by short, quick thrusts up inside of you. He pushed up off of you, your arms falling to the bed beside you while your legs fall open as they untangle from his waist. His hands grip the inside of your thighs, and he leans his weight forward a little, pinning your legs to the bed. 

“I am, Joel. P-please fuck me,” you beg, gripping the sheets between your fingers as your hips meet his thrusts. Joel starts off slowly, implanting you fully on his cock before slowly pulling back until just the tip presses against your pussy. His bruising grip on your thighs holds your legs open while he works himself in and out of you, eyes cast on how your slick coats his cock, the occasional red streak coloring his flesh. 

A stray curl of hair falls from his previously brushed back hair, and you itch to swipe it back into place, but his pace quickens and your hold on the bed keeps you from banging against the bed frame. The sound of his cock entering your wet pussy fills the room, the indecency of it causing your skin to flush with heat. Joel’s groans start to find time with your whimpers, and soon the noises of sex are emitting throughout the bedroom, throughout the house. 

Joel’s hands move away from your thighs, traveling up your stomach and pushing up his red t-shirt to see your boobs bouncing with each thrust. He admires the peaks of your nipples, the way goosebumps arise on your flesh as it’s exposed to the cool air, before bringing both hands to grip onto them. His thumbs and forefingers pinch at your nipples, the pain mixing in with the pleasure seamlessly. 

Your eyes fall shut on a moan, body arching into his touch as you clench around Joel, causing him to curse. The familiar sensation of heat fills your body, that third orgasm floating slightly out of reach. You move one of your hands down to your pussy, resting it on your mound. Your fingertips brush against Joel’s cock every time he withdraws, and you moan at how slick he feels before bringing your fingers to your clit. 

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself come on my cock,” Joel encourages, gaze focused on the way your fingers nimbly play with your throbbing clit. His hands squeeze your breasts roughly one last time before he leans up, gripping your ankles and bringing your legs to rest on top of his shoulders. Your thighs press against his cock as he fucks you, adding in another level of pleasure for him as he fights back his orgasm. 

“Just like that, Joel. Just like that…oh!” Your cries fill the room as he pounds into you, your fingers increasing the pace against your clit. Your movements are shaky, not precise in the slightest, but you’re still sensitive and wound up from your previous orgasms that it doesn’t take much to get your third one going. With a few clumsy swipes of your middle finger against your clit, and Joel’s cock ruthlessly hammering in and out of you, your final orgasm floods through your body. 

Joel curses as he feels your pussy clench around him, making his movements stagger with how tight you become. He gives a few more deep thrusts, his own movements becoming shaky and less precise, and he soon slips out of you, rubbing the length of his cock along your pussy lips as you gush with your orgasm. With a grunt, he follows soon, his own cum spurting out of his red cockhead and on to your lower stomach. 

Your legs fall meekly to the bed again, and Joel’s body sags forward a little before he props himself back up with his hands. The sound of you both panting is all that can be heard as you both come down from your orgasms; you, eyes closed and mouth open. Joel, eyes open and mouth closed, nostrils flaring slightly as he regulates himself. 

It takes a moment before you both get back to yourselves, but when you do, you become increasingly aware of the wet feeling underneath your lower body, which causes you to giggle. “Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get around to cleaning my sheets today, huh?” 

A snort comes out of Joel, his head shaking slightly as he moves to brush back his hair. He takes in the sight of you, freshly fucked and thouroughly spent, and can’t help but grin. He might be older, but he relishes the fact that he can still please you like this. That you actually want him to do so. Makes him feel like a god among men. 

He sees the tears around your lash line from your last two orgasms, and he leans forward slightly to wipe them away with his thumb, triggering in his mind the conversation you both had before this all started. “Feelin’ alright?” His gaze moves around your body, checking to see if he hurt you in any way. He notes the red marks against the side of your neck, the cum on your lower stomach and the beginnings of many small bruises along the inside of your thigh from where he gripped them to keep them open. 

He’d be more worried about those if he didn’t know how much you loved having him mark you up. 

“Just peachy,” you grinned at him, propping yourself up on your elbows to take in the mess below you. Joel leaned in to meet you, his kiss soft and soothing as his lips slid against yours. After a moment, he pulls away again, awkwardly shuffling to the edge of the bed before standing up. Hiking up his pants, he moves to the bathroom to get a washcloth to start cleaning you up. 

After wiping away his cum and your wetness, he gently helps you off the bed, holding your arm as your legs fumble when your feet hit the ground. His pride grows then, and you smack his arm playfully when you catch sight of his grin. “Sorry,” he mutters, pressing a kiss against the side of your head before moving to gather up the dirty towel from the bed. He tosses it into the hamper before leading you to the bathroom. 

There, he draws you a hot bath, guiding you in the tub and before pulling his clothes off and joining you. It’s a cramped space, the bathtub not technically suitable for two, but you make it work. You lean your head against Joel’s shoulders, sinking into his body as his arms wrap around your middle. You know you should do something with your bedding soon, should make sure you have the guest room set up so the two of you can sleep somewhere remotely comfortable tonight, but for now, you bask in his presence. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Joel.” You say softly, closing your eyes and letting the hot water ease away any lingering soreness your body has. His arms tighten around you as you trace mindless shapes against his thighs. He tilts his head to the side, kissing your forehead before resting his on top of yours. 

“Anytime, baby.” His breathing evens out with yours, stubble rubbing against your forehead as he speaks. “I’ll always be here to wipe your tears away.” 

taglist *:·ﾟ @hiroikegawa

[olderthannetfic]

hi, as someone who is tragically gen Z and only ever read AO3, can I ask: what was so great about LiveJournal? Like, I know that there were fics posted there (and I've even read about the "purge", so I get why it isn't used anymore) and that it was sort of a forum-type thing. But what I don't understand, wouldn't Tumblr fill in the latter function? How was that site any different? I see a lot of people reminiscing about it and I'm confused

--

A big factor in LJ's greatness is timing and nostalgia.

It was genuinely great, but it wasn't quite as great as all of the Lo, shall the Golden Age ne'er come again? posts suggest.

LJ arrived at a pivotal time in the development of the internet both in terms of technical stuff and how many people had access. Many fans who are now in their thirties to fifties first discovered fandom through LJ and many were at a time in their lives when they were feeling energetic and up to making lots of new friends—and to figuring out how to make a site work for them.

I got on LJ in 2002 when it required invites. Fandom arrived in droves in 2003, first via coordinated campaigns to get invites to key people and then when LJ opened up free account creation to everyone. Back then, LJ's features sucked. It was impossible to search properly, among other things. At its height (2005-7, let's say), there was a reasonable site search, and fans had developed all sorts of community resources for finding each other.

People often remember this phase but not the early days of suckitude.

This development parallels how Tumblr used to not have that private chat feature and how a lot of fuckyeah[whatever] type tumblrs have helped curate the site and make it much more usable for fans. Fandom draining away from LJ after strikethrough also parallels people draining away from Tumblr after the purge.

There are people who talk about Tumblr the way my cohort talks about LJ...

And to the shock of no one, they are people who came of age on Tumblr, who found fandom via Tumblr, who were on Tumblr during pivotal times in their lives and ones when they had energy to make friends and figure out how a site worked.

Those same Tumblrites are now making all the same geriatric-sounding posts we LJers do about how other sites lack the required features to be good for fandom while missing that 90% of tumblr's "features" at its height (2012-2016, let's say) were actually fan-created and were basically the same as any fandom newsletter or links page or all the versions of this kind of personal curation stretching back to long before the internet existed.

What life phase you hit a site at matters.

--

With all of that said, no, LJ was not a forum. It was a blogging site with threaded comments.

The key point to understand is that conversation was always happening in a specific person's space. Unlike on a true forum, people were in the comments on a particular post in a journal owned by another fan. (On a forum, there's the first post in a thread, but it's still more of a communal space with less of a hierarchy.)

Overall, the LJ format can have a feeling a bit like you're over at someone's house for tea. There's more of a sense of intimacy and also behaving yourself in front of community members.

Tumblr being obscure and impossible to find anything in does give it some of the same vibe relative to Twitter, but it's still part of modern social media that tries to shove every rando into the face of every other rando.

But it wasn't just vibes: LJ also had robust privacy features where you could lock a post to this or that group of friends. You could moderate your comments section properly. Tumblr has far fewer controls to force people to behave or leave on a technical level.

--

The biggest thing many people miss about LJ is the threaded comments. At least by late LJ and on Dreamwidth, you can expand and collapse threads, making it far easier to deal with a massive comments section. But more than that, things are properly threaded with multiple levels of hierarchy that are all easily visible in the same place.

On Tumblr, it used to be extremely difficult to find all of the actual commentary on a post. Nowadays, it's far easier, but you still have to scroll chronologically, and multiple versions of a post with a long chain of commentary may be much more divorced from each other than what would happen in a LJ comments section.

--

But could we use Tumblr pretty much how we used LJ?

We could.

I do.

--

The key things that people tend to miss about LJ, aside from the younger and more excited version of themselves or the friends they've lost since then, are:

Heavily text-based

It may sound odd on the modern internet, but there are a lot of people whose brains don't like or handle an image-heavy site well. They were everywhere in SF book fandom. They were everywhere on the early internet. Today, they're hanging out on Dreamwidth and still going to their SF cons. They're usually not on Tumblr.

You could follow the discussion

Threaded comments help, but a lot of it is about having some place you can check for updates. It wasn't actually that easy to follow big LJ discussions unless you were subscribed to comments and reading along as things were happening instead of coming along after the entire mass of comments had been left.

The tone of the discussion is intellectual and one's enemies are "idiots", not "problematic"

All this requires is a penchant for longwindedness and an itchy blocking finger to remove anyone slinging ad hominems from the comments section.

On tumblr, it's as simple as conversations happening in the replies on a popular account and that person not tolerating suibaiting and threats.

(And make no mistake, a lot of LJ discussion was in the comments on popular accounts, not spread equally between everyone's.)

It does require that multiple people like that tone and want to engage in that way, but lots of people do want to.

--

These days, I interact with tumblr by checking my askbox and reading my activity page. The vast, vast majority of my posts are ones where I'm the OP, so if I block someone, they're booted from the discussion entirely.

For me... yeah, Tumblr functions almost exactly like LJ.

Also like LJ, while I'm hosting the conversation, if you hang around, you'll see the same people again and again in the comments. They may or may not also host that kind of conversation in their space, and there's a larger pool of lurkers who have some notion of which people count as regulars. Other people are watching from the shadows, enjoying or deriding the takes of the usual crowd.

People presumably do like reading my lengthy commentary or they wouldn't be here, but my tumblr wouldn't be popular like this without a healthy pool of other people who chime in regularly. It's not just that there are more people: it's that you see the same people over time. There's a bit more sense of place and community than on some parts of the internet.

--

So, in my opinion, the failure to just recreate LJ fandom on Tumblr was a skill issue.

Threaded comments were great, but LJ culture came from mailing lists, and mailing lists had the same issue as tumblr with the diverging threads.

We solved that back then by clipping out only the parts we wanted to respond to (you'd write "snip" around the quotation to show it was incomplete). We solved the smaller LJ issue by linking to other posts we were referencing and doing discussion link roundups. We solve it on tumblr by, again, linking to what we're talking about and even quoting multiple reblog chains in our own reblog of just one chain.

--

Tumblr's technical features and even general crap-ness aren't really the problem. 90s and early 00s sites regularly went down for periods of time unthinkable today.

The missing piece is people.

When one is in an active fandom with others who curate or with friends who let one know what's up, a site with imperfect features is easy to figure out and retrofit for fandom's needs. When one already feels out of touch and is between fannish passions—or at least fannish passions anyone else cares about—seeing the potential in a new site is hard.

--

Threaded comments are different and better.

LJ's built-in way to see everyone's blog in your own style was better. The automatic timestamps and the ease of seeing a paginated archive of an entire blog was better than tumblr's endless scroll and lack of clear date labeling. But some of that can be fixed with xkit or knowing your way around tumblr well.

A lot of it is nostalgia for the lj era and a refusal to take the time to figure out how to use tumblr in an oldschool internet way.

--

So by all means, people, weigh in about what made LJ great or how the culture felt at the time...

But if I see one more god damn response going "You can't have a conversation on tumblr!" in reply to my tumblr, which contains nothing but conversation, I am coming for you.

[benisbeaaaaans]

Fragmented

Mirrors always made him uneasy.

The villagers who were aware of that always assumed it was because of his eye, the injury that was deemed so severe upon his arrival that he was given a patch to keep the non-functional socket clean and protected. He’d be lying if he said that wasn’t at least partially true, so he’d nod somberly every time it was brought up.

But it wasn’t the whole truth. No, he’d much rather they not have the burden of knowing the rest of the story.

It pained him to be reminded of what he was, and what he had left behind on Beast-Yeast.

It was the dead of night, the only night outside the window broken by tiny pinpricks of light, the moon gone from the sky tonight. He stared at the mirror on the wall, water dripping from his milk-white hair and down his back, seeping into the towel wrapped around him. His eyepatch hung on the bathroom doorknob, its lock slid into place more to hide him from unsuspecting eyes than for privacy. Witches forbid a villager or worse, Pure Vanilla Cookie come walking in and seeing the black scars on his body and the unnatural glow of his right eye. He looked like a monster in his reflection, and he was the one that was used to it. Imagining what would happen if he lost this second chance to something as easily concealed as his appearance-

He sighed. He grabbed the patch from the door handle, tying it back around his head over his eye. It took some work, given his hair was still heavy from his bath, but looking at himself too long gave covering it more priority than drying the mop of hair upon his head. He briefly contemplated cutting it short, before dismissing the idea.

‘Pure Vanilla Cookie recognizes me like this. I shouldn’t drastically change my appearance, especially so early on. I might frighten him if he thinks I’m a stranger.’

He stared at the mirror a second longer. He had yet to put on his nightgown, but even covering that hideous eye made him sigh with relief. He’d never forgive that wretched part of himself for such a vile change. He knew it didn’t care about appearances the moment corruption took hold, but to force it upon him, too?

He turned away. “It cannot be helped,” he murmured aloud. “It is simply the truth of the matter.”

‘Aw, my little parting gift isn’t appreciated?’

He froze.

“What-?”

‘And here I thought you of all people were honest about your feelings! I had to wait until you left before finding out about this!’

A cold feeling rushed over his body.

He looked back up at the mirror.

His reflection stared back.

Smiling.

That sickly cyan eye staring into his very soul.

‘Hellooooo, my darling other half~! Having fun playing family?’

‘What are you doing here?!’ Blueberry Milk Cookie’s words echoed in his mind, not daring to say another word aloud, lest he wake the entire house.

‘Mm, nothing in particular, really. Not much to do inside this wretched tree. I must say, though, I was really hoping for more excitement after the journey here… watching this is almost as boring as sitting for a portrait!’ Shadow Milk Cookie sighed, the reflection moving independently from the cookie projecting it.

‘How?? How are you able to watch me?! That shouldn’t be possible, you’re- trapped! Trapped forever, I should add, that should mean that you have no power!’

‘What a naive assumption. And here I thought you were smart,’ the mirror scoffed. ‘Did I get all the brains in the split? That’s rather unfortunate for you…’

‘I’m not stupid! The Witches chains bind you for all eternity! Any connection with me was severed when the Soul Jam’s power was split!’

‘Tch, tch, tch, sooooo naive indeed. You’re forgetting some crutial details, my “beloved” other half.’

‘Tell me, then, instead of dancing around it like a chicken with its head cut off!’

‘The Soul Jam’s power cannot be entirely severed. That’s why you were forced to bring that snot-nosed brat to a different continent to ensure I could not effectively puppet him.’

‘…’

‘Hehe~! Got your attention now, did I? Yes, I know about the heir. Too bad, so sad, you’re getting nepotismed right out of weilding your own lifeforce!’

‘Silence,’ Blueberry snapped, before thinking a moment more. ‘This must be why I’m here. So long as he doesn’t hold the Soul Jam, you have no will over him. But he still needs it eventually. I’m the beacon that must protect him not only until he’s grown, but from the very power he will grow to inherit.’

‘Yes,’ Shadow replied through a grating smile. ‘It’s so very inconvenient, all this “pure and good” nonsense he has to be. You must be so upset you have to deal with me! You’re already going mad listening to me mock you! Maybe I’ll make you have nightmares every night! Or! I’ll make you hallucinate spiders crawling under your clothes, and snakes in your shoes constricting your legs so you can’t walk! You won’t last so much as a day now that I-‘

“No.”

‘… What.’

“I refuse to be driven mad by you,” Blueberry Milk Cookie whispered, turning away from the mirror.

‘… Huh???! You can’t just- REFUSE to be driven mad! That’s stupid! I am not some meager insect that can be swatted away, you insolent fool!’ The mirror hissed, the furious cookie’s eye flashing with rage.

‘Perhaps not. But you do not worry me in the slightest. Now that I know we are still connected through the Soul Jam, I know exactly what I must do. Not just raise Pure Vanilla Cookie, but teach him. He will learn how to resist you when the time comes. I will ensure it, and until that day comes, I will suffer the consequences of holding the Light of Truth and its connection with the Sin of Deciet.’

‘That will take years! Decades, even, perhaps even centuries if his life is as long as ours!’

‘I’m sure that’s enough time to grow a tolerance for you.’

‘No one can last forever in torment…’ Shadow Milk Cookie growled, eyes narrowed into slits.

‘Not forever,’ he agreed, pulling on his blue tunic. ‘But this is my purpose now. Just as yours is to be trapped “forever”. Such fickle wording, don’t you think?’

Before the reflection could retort further, Blueberry Milk Cookie unlocked the door stepping out and closing it behind him.

[kirlicues]

Gyms for Sims | CC-Free Sims 2 Community Lots | Create-a-Town

These two different community gym lots are built and decorated in a similar style but their exteriors are painted to look different. 

Puns and cute plays on words are a notorious part of the Sims games, and because I have a few playfulness points, I’ve tried to have these lots follow in that legacy with their names.

First up is the small “Gym-in-a-Box”, named for not only its more boxy shape, but also the shape of the lot (2x2).

This little gym is 3 stories tall and provides your sims with lots of options for exercising, or soothing their over-worked muscles.

You will need to download the Maxis Lost and Found Fixed CAS Window to get it to look exactly like the pictures. The window is not included in this download. Since this is an object that came with the game, but was hidden, I don’t really consider it CC, however, if you do please feel free to replace the 3rd story windows with the regular High-Tech Loft Window that is visible on the front of the building (also on the 3rd story) above the front doors.

This lot comes lightly furnished and would most likely benefit from some added décor should you desire to do that. It should be functional without any extra fussing though.

Alright, let’s see what you’re getting with this small but serious gym:

1st Floor From top-left: Hot-Tub, Vending machines, bathrooms, entry area (with “healthy” meal options [regular grocery freezers]), main workout space, side-entry.

2nd Floor From top-left: weight room, vending machines, bathrooms, the rest of the floor is open to first story.

3rd Floor From top-left: ballet studio, bathroom, sports massage studio (could also be a physical therapy office).

CC-Free, but all EPs and SPs are required.

Don’t forget to grab the Maxis/EA “Lost and Found” CAS Window Fixed if you do not already have them in your game.

I’ve run this lot through the Lot Compressor so any random references to sims that aren’t there should be removed. I have also run it through the Lot Cleaner to remove any bits of buggy code. This lot comes with a shiny custom thumbnail so it has even more curb appeal in your Lots and Houses bin! 😄

I ALWAYS recommend using the Sims 2 Pack Clean installer to install lot files.

The link for this lot will be at the bottom of the post. Keep scrolling. 😊

Next up, it’s The Slim Gym, so named because of the lot shape (5x2) it is built on.

This lot is fairly sizable so if your computer is good enough you should be able to have your sims enjoy exercising with a plethora of not-so-fresh-smelling patrons. What could be more fun? 😂

You will need to have the Maxis Lost and Found Fixed CAS Window  installed to get it to look exactly like the pictures. That window is not included in this download. Since this is an object that came with the game, but was hidden, I don’t really consider it CC, however, if you do, please feel free to replace the 3rd story windows in the black corrugated siding section with the regular High-Tech Loft Window.

I realized after packaging this lot that I also have the Freetime pre-order bonus poster hung in the ballet studio. It is included, but you do not have to install it if you use the Sims2Pack Clean installer. This is an original Maxis/EA object however, so you probably already have it in your game.

Let’s have a look at those spacious floorplans, shall we?

1st Floor From left: pool, shower and locker rooms, hot-tub, weight room, locker rooms and showers, vending machines, main floor bathrooms, treadmills, staff offices, or offices for personal trainers/nutritionists, and the entry area (with “healthy” meal options [regular grocery freezers]).

2nd Floor From left: open to floor below, upstairs sitting area above pool, small back patio area, ballet studio, sports massage/physical therapy office, bathrooms, vending machines and eating area, the rest is open to the floor below.

Since there is a bit more space in this building, I’ve taken a couple of pictures of how some of the rooms look. You’ll notice that the interior of this building is very similar to the first gym. Feel free to redecorate it if you like. 

Weight room:

Treadmills:

Pool:

Now I need to design a “Just-Right Gym”. Not too big, not too small… 🤣

Gym-in-a-Box: MF | SFS

The Slim Gym: MF | SFS

Like the first gym, this lot is CC-Free, but all EPs and SPs are required.

Don’t forget to grab the Maxis/EA “Lost and Found” CAS Window Fixed if you do not already have them in your game.

I’ve run this lot through the Lot Compressor so any random references to sims that aren’t there should be removed. I have also run it through the Lot Cleaner to remove any bits of buggy code. This lot comes with a shiny custom thumbnail so it has even more curb appeal in your Lots and Houses bin! 😄

I ALWAYS recommend using the Sims 2 Pack Clean installer to install lot files. Looking for lots to add some more interest to your town? Try these: Main Street Shops Across the Street  The Next Street Over Around the Corner Further Down the Street Small Shopping Center