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chicagofanfictionfan · 2 years

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The Other Side of Paradise

originally written by dwaynepride.tumblr.com

“So, how small is your room?”

Gibbs can’t help but smirk at your naive question. For a moment, his eyes break away from the case files to look up and around his little metal box. He was used to the cramped space, of course - Navy vessels never really afforded much space. Especially for federal agents.

His attention falls back down to the papers, tucking his cell phone closer to his ear. “You know the guest bathroom I got back home?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

“Little smaller than that.”

You laugh out loud, and despite the shitty reception and hundreds of miles between you, the sound of it makes Gibbs smile.

He should be asleep. He knows that. But there’s work to be done, and also, he did promise to call you every chance he got. That was the deal when Gibbs told you he’d be shipping out on a ship for a week or more. But it’s already been three days, and Gibbs is surprised at how much he misses you already.

The laughter dies down and you sigh a little. Gibbs can already imagine you tucked up in bed - probably wearing one of his shirts, pulling his pillow closer, cradling the phone as if it would bring Gibbs physically closer to you, somehow.

It brings a pang of loneliness to his chest, but Gibbs pushes it aside. “So, how was your day? Anything eventful?” He asks lightly. Some of his attention is still on the case files, however. Believing work would help with the fact that he’s not home with you, right now.

You simply let out a small exhale, and he imagines you’re rolling your eyes. “Not really. Just went to the store. Did the dishes. Cleaned the bathroom,” you tell him. There’s a slight pause, and the next time you speak, it’s louder and harsher. “By the way, Jethro - I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

He blinks once, eyes flickering to the side as he shifts in his chair. “What’d I do now?”

“How many times have I asked you to clean up after you shave?” His shoulders go slack in relief; it’s nothing too serious. “I swear, it’s like you don’t even hear me when I tell you something. Like, how hard is it to wipe down the counter after you’re done?”

For once, Gibbs is thankful to be a couple hundred miles away. Because you can’t see him when he smirks. “Not hard,” he replies. “I’ll make it up to you when I get home, ‘kay?”

“I doubt that,” you respond immediately. You don’t sound too angry, thankfully. Still, it’s something Gibbs has got to prove.

“I will. I’ve always made it up to you, haven’t I?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah, you do,” Gibbs drawls, voice low and smooth. “Missed dates, late nights - you’ve always forgiven me, one way or another.”

Carefully, Gibbs twists his head around to eye the metal door of his tiny room, just to make sure it’s still closed before turning back. You’re silent, likely thinking on his words and even Gibbs himself wonders why he’s poking this particular bear. He knows he’s on a Navy ship and it’s possible McGee might come knocking on his door without warning, but fuck, he misses you.

He hears you breathe softly - so quiet, he thinks he imagined it. “Alright,” you finally say in a wispy voice. “What are you gonna do, then? To make up for trashing the bathroom?”

“What do you want me to do, honey?”

“Nah, that’s not how this works.” His lips quirk up in a smile - you’re too smart for him. “You tell me, since you’re bragging.”

Gibbs takes a moment to think. Reconsiders going down this road, but now, his heart is pumping a little faster and his stomach is twisted up with anticipation. “Take you out to dinner. Share a bottle of wine. Maybe dance, if you wanted to,” he says.

“I like to dance,” you tell him, voice so sweet, it’s like you’re here with him.

“You’d look real pretty, like you always do. I’d have to scare people off because they’d want to come and talk to you.”

You let out another laugh - softer, this time. Squeezes his heart with affection even as Gibbs shifts in his chair because his pants are suddenly getting a bit tight. “Probably,” you reply. “What about when we get home?”

“When we get home, I’ll take you upstairs. Get’cha into something more comfortable.”

“No drinking bourbon?”

“Nah,” he replies easily. “I don’t want you too drunk. I’d want you to remember everything I did the next morning.”

Gibbs hadn’t even expected those words to come out so easy. Usually, playful dirty talk was not his strong suit. His ex-wives had sometimes tried to get him to talk dirty to them and it always ended with him feeling awkward and them feeling disappointed. But right now, it was almost natural.

He finds himself holding his breath, awaiting your response, hoping he hadn’t somehow crossed a line. And Gibbs hears you breathe for a moment before your soft voice hits his ear again. “You must be doing something pretty good if you’d want me to remember it.”

Your voice is small and hitched. Distracted, almost. Jethro’s focus is no longer on the case files - instead, he leans back in his chair, legs spread, hand resting on his thigh. “Oh, I am,” Gibbs murmurs. “Sweetheart, lemme ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“What’re you doing right now.”

There’s a small pause. “Talking to you.”

“Other than that,” Gibbs replies. “I know you.”

And just as soon as his hushed sentence ends, you gasp a little. It’s quiet and stifled, like you’re trying to hide it from him. But Gibbs has got good hearing, and the sound twists his stomach up a little tighter. Makes his cock start to strain against his jeans a little harder. “I’m laying in bed, wearing your shirt, cuddling your pillow,” yeah, Gibbs was right. But there’s something else he’s looking for… “Wishing you were touching me. You always touch me better than I can touch myself.”

There it is. The sudden mental image that hits Jethro makes his head tilt back, eyes shut, imagining you in bed, hand under the covers, thinking you’ll get away with touching yourself and making yourself cum without him finding out.

“Dammit…” Jethro breathes out. His head moves to check the door again, finding it still closed. Maybe he was silently hoping there’d be a knock. Something to interrupt and give Jethro a chance to keep himself from doing something stupid.

But you’re still on the phone. Even the faint static from a weak signal isn’t enough to mask the edge in your voice. “I miss you, Jethro,” you whine lightly. Gasping again, and he guesses you hit a good spot.

You miss him. Yeah, he misses you, too. Misses you more than anything.

“I wish you were here,” you continue. “If you were, you’d probably just go slow. Make me beg for it. I know you like it when I ask nicely…”

“I do,” Jethro cuts in. “And I would.”

You let out a slow hum, like you’re stretching in bed. Getting comfy, and Gibbs has never been so eager to get home in his life. This phone sex thing…it’s never been something he was remotely interested in. Especially not when the real thing is so much better. But you sound good. Those pretty little noises that’s making him harder by the second.

And Jethro doesn’t even notice you talk until your soft voice comes through. “What?” He asks dumbly.

You huff in amusement. “Do it, then.”

“Do what?”

“Make me beg.”

He swallows hard. “Honey, I can’t. Not ‘till i get home…”

“Please, Jethro. Really wanna cum.” His eyes fall shut when you let out a slow moan. Deep and throaty and just the way he likes it because you always sound so fucking pretty. If Jethro tries hard enough, he can imagine himself in the bedroom with you. His hands replacing your own between your legs, and you’d be asking him for more instead of just begging for the bare minimum.

He lets out a slow exhale. Pulls the phone closer to his cheek, like that’ll help keep this whole ordeal more of a secret, somehow. “Just keep touching yourself, sweetheart. Do it how you know I would,” Jethro says, voice low.

“How would you do it?”

“Any damn way you want,” he answers immediately. Gibbs hears your breathing, quick and tight, right in his ear. Without even thinking, his own hand comes over his zipper. Jethro was damn tempted to open up his pants and chase his orgasm alongside you. But even now, he knows that’s not a good idea. It’ll be way too messy and wouldn’t be worth the trouble if someone were to come knocking.

You, however…Jethro has now made it his mission to hear you cum.

“I’d make you cum right on my fingers because I love when you moan right into my mouth. I can watch your face - that’s my favorite part, sweetheart. You always look so pretty, like that. And then you get this little look in your eye when I get my fingers in deeper…”

Jethro shocks even himself, saying all that. Though, is it still considered dirty talk if he’s simply telling the truth?

He hears breathless little mews of his name. A sharp breath, and Gibbs can guess what you’re doing. “Don’t hold back,” he says; voice hard, like an order. “Don’t be shy. Lemme hear you.”

Instantly, you whimper. High-pitched and keening and it sends goosebumps down his back. Jethro imagines that your legs are spread out wide, muscles tight, head tilted back and if he were there, he’d be sucking hickeys into your skin while pumping his fingers just as hard as he could.

“Keep goin’, angel. Get a little deeper for me.”

“Jethro, please…”

“Relax. Rub your clit - tight little circles. That always gets you all wound up for me. Every single time.” Jethro’s right, of course - he’s remembering each and every time you’ve cried out and clung to him because of those little circles he’d do.

You’re breathing so heavy into his ear. He knows from experience that you’re right on the edge. And fuck, Jethro feels like he might bust in his pants from the noises alone, much less the mental image of you cumming on your own fingers. And he’s wrapping his head around more things to tell you before you’re speaking up, yourself.

“Can’t wait until you’re back home.” Your voice is a tight plea - keening and desperate. His cock twitches at the sound of it, begging to be released but Gibbs won’t allow it. “Can’t wait for you fuck me.”

“I would. As many times as you want. Neighbors’ll hate me, but I don’t care.”

You huff once - from amusement or arousal, he can’t discern. But the huff is followed by a moan and Jethro wants, more than anything, not to be on a fucking Navy vessel, right now. His skin is hot and tingling and he’s not even the one about to cum.

He sighs into the phone, his hand adjusting his pants but Jethro’s entire focus is on you. Your noises. Your voice… “Jethro, ‘m close.”

“Fuck, I know, angel.” It’s truly unfair that Gibbs is in such a situation where he can’t be there with you. To make you cum himself because it’s his job and he’s fucking loves it. But it’s extra bitter in the fact that he can’t pull his cock out and cum alongside you. Well, he could. But if he got caught, that would be a hell of a conversation with Vance.

Your breathing gets faster. Heavier. Jethro knows that sound intimately. “You gonna cum? Right on your fingers? Is that how fuckin’ desperate you are, honey?”

“Yeah.” The word comes out as a broken moan. Jethro can guess that you aren’t too focused on speaking, right now.

He brings the phone even closer, panting lightly in his own arousal. “Well, c’mon. Let me hear you - loud and clear. Make me proud, angel.” Jethro closes his eyes, hoping his imagination is good enough for him to picture your orgasm in his mind. “I bet you look fucking beautiful, right now. Legs wide open, pussy all wet and-”

“Fuck- fuck, Jethro!”

The static on the line is ultimately his downfall. Your cries are so loud, so broken, it’s difficult to hear them to their fullest extent. Gibbs groans a bit, but it seems his imagination does well enough. His cock is throbbing in his pants, but he’s too focused on hearing you mewl out his name to really feel it.

You’re panting hard. He hears it right in his ear. Jethro waits a few moments, simply allowing himself the opportunity to listen without obligation. Usually, he’d feel compelled to start cleaning you up or maybe get you some water. At least there’s one positive to phone sex - he can just sit back and listen.

“…Honey?”

“Jethro….”

“You alright?”

After a couple more breaths, you let out a small, contented moan. Jethro can’t help but smirk. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“That’s good,” he replies. And…now what? Phone sex itself is uncharted territory. But phone pillowtalk? Jethro rolls his eyes at himself - this shouldn’t be so damn hard. Not with you. Especially not after what you just did for him. He should already know what to do.

You yawn lightly. And it reminds him that it’s almost midnight for you.

“Maybe you outta head to sleep.”

“No. Wanna talk to you.”

That pang in his chest comes back. But instead of loneliness, it’s more like affection - it’s softer, sweeter, and doesn’t hurt as much. “I’ll call you again tomorrow. I promise,” Jethro tells you softly. “Right now, you need sleep.”

You pause for a moment, and he thinks you might argue. But after another soft yawn, you sigh into the phone. “Alright,” you reply. And he nods once. “I love you.”

He swallows, feeling odd saying this over the phone after something so dirty. “I love you, too.” But, in a way, it’s natural. Maybe because Jethro can so easily imagine you smiling when he says it. “Goodnight.”

You hang up first. Jethro tosses his phone on his desk, and suddenly, the silence of his tiny metal room starts to creep in. Suddenly, he misses your voice. Your breathing. Your noises. Even as his cock slowly stops its incessant throbbing, the silence isn’t chased away. Not even as Jethro tries to lose himself in the paperwork again.

But he forces himself to. Because the sooner this case is over, the sooner he can get home to you.

#ncis x reader #gibbs reader insert #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs #mark harmon

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bloodmoonmuses · 2 months

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translation: i love you. | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, college au (not that important for the context tbh), friends to lovers, fluff, drabble (900 words)

summary: your friends referred to you as the mark lee interpreter. you weren't sure why, but you understood him- even the words he didn't say.

warnings: none!

To many, you were known as the Mark Lee Interpreter. Such was usually said in jest, but you couldn’t help the pride that swelled in your chest when the moniker was bestowed upon you. Sure, the guy rambles a bit, but if you listen- really listen- he has quite a beautiful outlook on the world.

You and Mark usually conversed in motion. You’ve divulged your deepest secrets to him while on aimless walks. You’ve cracked your wisest jokes to one another while biking. You’ve had entire conversations through your eyes while dancing in grimy bars.

Now was no different, though a more chill variation. It’s Spring, so the two of you are taking a stroll in between classes. The sun knocks the chill off an otherwise too-chilly day, its rays falling on your face like a smattering of kisses. Spring isn’t in its picturesque stage quite yet. The stasis of winter still lingers, trees barren and skies grayish amidst the light that peeks through the cloud coverage. It’s calming.

There’s a creek that runs through the center of campus, a little bridge arching over the widest part. This is where you stood now, watching the water trickle over stones.

“I think about rocks a lot,” Mark says out of nowhere. (Translation: Nature is so beautiful- even the most mundane and minute aspects of it. Even the parts that people forget. I think about forgotten things a lot, like rocks.) You believe it. Mark thinks a lot about a lot of things.

“They’re, like, soooo varied. Y’know?”

You do know. Large rocks. Mountainous rocks. Boulders. Stones. Pebbles. There are many types of rocks. “The ones in the creek look super smooth. It’s… hypnotizing.” Mark speaks as though he’s constantly in amazement, or on the brink of an epiphany. He’s the embodiment of potential, of the hypothetical, of what could be. You think a lot about what you and Mark could be.

Of the many possibilities, you conclude that as long as some form of togetherness is involved, you’d be anything for him.

“I think about water a lot,” you respond.

“What’s your favorite kind of water?” (Translation: Indulge me. How intently do you think about the minutiae of the world? Are you as crazy about water as I am about rocks?)

“Hm,” you say. “Good question. No one’s ever asked me that.” You assume he’s asking you to identify a particular body of water as your favorite. A memory comes to mind.

It was the summer after freshman year. You and Mark went to the beach everyday together. You think of the chilly water that rolled over your toes in the waking moments of dawn. You think of how beautiful the sunrise looked reflected on the ocean. You think of Mark waking up with you, despite not being a morning person. That wasn’t your favorite type of water, no. You specifically liked the sea water that danced on the ends of Mark’s hair. The drops that traveled down the follicle, forming shimmering beads, and dripped onto the sand below. You made a game of watching and counting them that summer. (The highest you got was 47.)

You’re not sure how to consolidate this memory into a sentence that doesn’t sound absolutely insane. You decide to omit the thought entirely. A conversation for a different day, you suppose.

“The ocean. Cliche, I know,” you say. Mark nods to himself, then hums.

The creek beneath you harmonizes with Mark’s humming. He begins walking again, taking your hand in his. This wasn’t too out of the ordinary for your friendship, but it makes your heart do this twisty thing you can’t quite place. It was the one action of his you couldn’t interpret. Mark doesn’t make a big deal about it, nor does he discuss the matter afterwards. It was almost like he was entitled to your hand, clasping his calloused fingers around yours without a second thought.

You’ve never actually looked at your intertwined hands before. The first time he grabbed it (during one of those days on the beach), Mark acted so nonchalant. You figured the gesture didn’t mean much to him. You were scared that, if provided with a visual, you’d never stop thinking about his stupid hands.

This time, you allow yourself a peek. The cuff of Mark’s jacket hangs over his fingers, and he squeezes your hand when he realizes you’re looking. (Translation: You’re finally acknowledging this. Are you here? Can you feel me?)

Your hand is getting sweaty. You pull away to wipe it on your jeans.

Mark can’t believe you’re nervous right now. You’re never nervous around him. The two of you have become accustomed to the wordless ease of your relationship.

Mark’s eyeing you again. You pretend you can’t see him in your peripheral vision. It doesn’t work. “Nervous?”

“Not even a little bit,” you say defiantly. You snatch his hand back into yours as if to prove your point. However, this only does the opposite as you begin to literally tremble.

“You’re so funny,” says Mark, running his thumb over the back of your hand. He slowly lifts your hand to his mouth, but he doesn’t kiss it. He simply presses your knuckles to his lips, maintaining eye contact while he does so. Your breath hitches.

“Mark-” is all you manage to say. You can’t meet his eyes, so you look at your conjoined hands as they swing between the two of you. Elation radiates off Mark’s skin. He’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Your hand is so warm,” Mark says. (Translation: I love you.)

a/n: feedback is always appreciated! thanks for reading!

#bloodmoonmuses #mark lee fic #nct 127 #nct 127 fluff #mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee fluff #nct dream fluff #mark lee drabble

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onlyswan · 11 months

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summary: in which you don’t want to give up on jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to).

> idol!jungkook x reader, angst, fluff / word count: 7k

> warnings: tears overflowing </3 mentions of cheating (but again no one did it ok !!), heh judgemental family members amirite, is giving lipstick marks a warning ?

> in which masterlist!

note: anniversary reveal! and more of oc’s pov :( in the aftermath of in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much left to give !! it’s up to u which one to read first if u haven’t. the in which series is a puzzle 😭 i’d love to hear your thoughts after reading <3 hugs and kisses <3

—

“i feel like this shouldn’t be taking this long.” jungkook jokingly remarks as he pushes the shopping cart with folded arms, tiptoeing and tracing your steps as your eyes wander around the entire shelf of feline necessities.

“leave me alone. there’s too many options.” a huff escapes your mouth as your index finger underlines the flavors of cat treats, aiding you in reading the small words.

he pulls back the cart before it could collide with your hip, resting his chin on top of his arms as he impatiently waits for you to pick out a small gift for your friend’s cat, who you will be catsitting tomorrow.

“just pick the one with the happiest looking cat. that should make it easy, right?”

“jungkook!”

entertained by his own humor, his bright giggles harmonize with yours. eventually, you’re forced to sit on your toes so you can scan the other products shoved in the lowermost shelf.

“surprisingly, many of them don’t look that happy.” you mutter absentmindedly to yourself.

“baby?”

“yes?”

“i’m getting bored.” jungkook pouts sulkily, bouncing his leg. in the midst of spacing out, he spits out the first question that pops in his mind. “what crime would you get arrested for?”

“arson,” you answer with a shrug, perhaps a little too quickly. the most adorable packaging you’ve seen so far steals your attention, and it’s almost as if you’re being beckoned by the colorful jars of cat cookies.

tuna? salmon? or chicken?

“oh?” he perks up in intrigue, mouth gaping in surprise. “why didn’t i expect that? why arson?“

“i mean, nothing special. it just sounds efficient? it takes little work but creates colossal damage.”

his face lights up when you stand back on your feet, relieved that grocery shopping is almost over. you place the jar of your chosen flavor, tuna, in an unoccupied space in the shopping cart.

“but realistically? i’d probably burn down my building with my forgetfulness and then get framed for it. i imagine that sometimes when i cook.”

“who would frame you?! tell me, baby.“ he angrily yells in a whisper, a cheeky smile growing on his face. “i’ll investigate and take care of them. that’s what i will get arrested for.”

“damn, how romantic.” you reply teasingly, granting his lips a loving peck. afterwards, you whisper to him as if you’re trading a well-kept secret, hushed voice and squinted eyes. “later. i’ll show you which of my neighbors i suspect.”

—

“baby?” jungkook chirps the pet name one more time, seizing your hand and putting it under his so that he’s pushing the cart while holding hands with you.

you hum in acknowledgement, sparing him a short glance as you look around, just incase you find something else you need while you’re on your way to the counter.

“have you thought of anything you want for our second anniversary?” he asks with sparkling eyes, his excitement uncontainable as more days get crossed out from the calendar. “a gift? and where you want to go?”

and that’s when your calmness completely shifts into chaos. his questions are giant buckets filled with ice, callously dunked over your head without any sign or warning. your walking pace gradually slows down as his words sink in, and you drown in the tornado swirling violently in your chest.

“our… anniversary?” you choke out.

your evident confusion is met by jungkook’s disappointment, halting on his tracks as to not leave you behind. “yes, february 25. that’s in three months… have you forgotten?”

“excuse me-”

a middle-aged woman rudely pushes your back, and you apologize in panic as you face your boyfriend to provide her the space to pass through. your heart drops to your stomach when you notice his stoic expression, hurt and distant, before you allow yourself to be whisked away from the center of the aisles.

“babe, please don’t be mad. i swear, i didn’t forget!” you cling to his muscular arm, hugging it to your chest as you stand behind a long line of overflowing shopping carts. “i literally have all the 25th marked in my calendar. how could i forget?”

“ugh, you tell me.” he frowns at you, lightly bumping his head against yours.

“i just didn’t realize it’s that near already.” the half-lie, half-truth tastes bitter on your tongue. “have you ever thought that time moves too fast when you’re happy and having fun? that’s exactly how i feel when i’m with you.”

yes, jungkook have thought of it a million times.

“fuck, alright, i’m not mad. you’re pretty good at this, huh?”

your sweet smile is pleasantly contagious. a flushed-face jungkook unconsciously copies you. he becomes pliant as you raise his arm to wrap it around you, stealing his body warmth this chilly november afternoon.

“i want to see a waterfalls with you. can we go there?”

he presses a kiss to your temple, unmoving for seconds, before he pulls away with a distinct smooching sound that fills your stomach with butterflies. “mhmm, niagara?”

you fail to hold back an amused snort, covering your mouth to prevent unwanted attention from strangers. “be serious. think local! we barely even go out of town!”

“but i’m serious.” he blinks at you. “we can just take pictures, have a dinner date, then go home!”

“you do know that it’s at the other side of the pacific, right?”

—

the cold breeze engulfs you in a big embrace as soon as you step out of the grocery store, carefree and unaware of its thorns prickling your skin. hand in hand, you and jungkook walk to his car parked two blocks away, carrying a plastic bag while he took the heavier two.

after putting out the small fire, your tumultuous emotions clamber to the surface, and it becomes increasingly difficult to hold them down the longer he’s around. the clouds are dark gray, as if they’re writing in pencil beforehand, my tears are about to fall. you feel stupidly envious of their ability to weep anytime they need to, in the face of the casualties. how nice would it be if you allowed yourself to be the same?

“this wasn’t here before. when did they open? let’s go inside for a bit.”

distracted by your stream of thoughts, you are guided inside an establishment with you only noticing belatedly. jungkook lets go of your hand to marvel at the collection of sunglasses displayed in extended rows. you stay idle by his side, watching him check himself out in the mirror as he tries them on one by one.

“that one looks good on you.” the praise automatically slips from your mouth when he wears a rectangle-shaped brown frame, more on the bigger side. as expected from your extremely handsome boyfriend, he makes it appear more stylish than it originally looked on the shelf.

“really? should i buy it?” he wears a radiant beam, repeatedly lifting it up and down as he inspects your face with and without the filtered lens.

“hm, i think so.�� you skip over the grocery bags on the floor, squeezing in yourself in the small mirror. “here, look here again.”

jungkook rests his head on yours as he smiles at your reflections, tight-lipped, bringing out the most endearing set of dimples you’ve ever seen.

“why are you acting cute today?”

“i was just born this way.” he grins proudly. “and i guess i missed you.”

the ever-present sincerity in his voice adds weight to the heaviness chained to your heart, and you reward a kiss on his cheek to conceal your uneasiness, leaving a conspicuous lipstick mark in your wake.

“yah!” he lightheartedly scolds you with a chuckle, pushing up the sunglasses over his hair to examine his face.

you reflexively seize his wrist with an offended gasp. “hello? are you about to wipe off my kiss?”

“you can give me a thousand more in the car.“

“but that defeats the purpose.” you defeatedly answer as you let him go, witnessing your lipstick turn into a faint blush that compliments his honey skin. “oh, fine! i guess i’ll go window shopping over there.”

“where’s ‘over there’?”

he whips his head around to discover that you’ve disappeared.

—

you don’t flinch when you feel someone hold your waist. maybe you know it’s jungkook. maybe you know jungkook will die before he lets anyone else touch you in his presence.

“are you sure you won’t get anything?”

“i won’t. i just saw the hot air balloon two months ago.” you timidly shake your head as you return the sixth eyeglasses you tried on. “are we going home?”

your boyfriend responds by intertwining your fingers together.

“let me take this again then.” you reclaim the grocery bag you were with earlier, taking it upon yourself to hold the paper bag of his new sunnies as well, just to lighten his load. how the hell did he manage to carry everything in one hand?

your eyelids briefly flutter shut when he kisses your cheek. “thank you.”

when jungkook pushes the door open do you only hear the raindrops crashing on the pavement, splashes of cold water staining your denim pants as you stand under the canopy roof.

“shit, it’s so cold.” he shivers with a laugh as you simultaneously pull your hoods over your heads. “carry the bags on your other side.”

“why?” you ask innocently, but you do as he says anyway, not seeing any reason not to.

“just because.” he transfers to your right, capturing your free hand to put it inside the front pocket of his hoodie along with his. “let’s go!”

and you know the probability of you buying cold medicine for two in twenty-four hours is high, but this moment feels like it could last forever — running under the rain with him and feeling overwhelmingly alive, heart and soul; realizing halfway that he switched positions so he’d be the one closer to the busy and slippery road. they have wild similarities: nature and jungkook. a breath of fresh air. stars. the candied scent of flowers. dulcet sounds. warmth. home. resourcefulness. whimsical. unstoppable force. they devastate you catastrophically without meaning to. sometimes you overthink that they do. sometimes you know them and sometimes you don’t. you’re part of the problem but it’s hard to admit.

jungkook drives ten times more carefully. the rain is pouring harder as the seconds fly by, giving the radio speakers of his car a run for their money. the twenty-five minute drive to your apartment is nothing short of torturous, tinted windows too blurry and too reminiscent of memories you’ve been trying to push into the recesses of your mind. but they’re out of control, ceaselessly replaying in your head, and you can still see his tear-stained face even when you close your eyes. the windshield wipers are working hard but the sky is remorseless.

“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”

“i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”

he’s wrong. you so strongly wish that he’s wrong.

you swallow the lump in your throat, chewing your bottom lip harshly, but the thread you’ve been hanging on has been snipped. you begin to cry silently, curled up on the passenger seat and face hidden by the hood you haven’t taken off. you pretend to be asleep as jungkook softly hums the tune of the songs playing in the radio. you feel so fucking suffocated. you hate this car. you hate the rain. you hate that you’re being this way. you feel guilty that your boyfriend is excited for your second anniversary while you’re stuck up in the past. you feel ashamed of feeling, almost.

you don’t know how to tell him that you’re sad because you love him. and even sadder when he thoughtfully wraps you in a blanket in the middle of a red light, stroking your back as he whispers. “my baby must be so tired.”

—

the rain has become a clement drizzle by the time you arrive at your destination. standing before your apartment unit, jungkook sets down the grocery bags on the floor to take off the wax cord necklace hidden underneath his clothing. he uses the pendant, his copy of your house key, to unlock the front door.

you slip off the loose sneakers on your feet by the floor mat before heading straight to the bedroom. you hang your boyfriend’s backpack on your study chair and place his paper bag on top of your desk. he enters the room when you’re already pulling the thick hoodie over your head, leaving you in a navy blue body-hugging top.

“love, are you okay?” he asks as he brings out fresh clothes from his backpack, looking over your sprawled out figure on the bed, eyes shut and breathing heavy.

“i’m alright.” you force yourself to sit up, sliding off the bed to stand on your feet. your head is pounding and you want to puke your guts out. is it normal to experience such heartache that you feel physically sick? “i’ll put away the groceries.”

“okay. i’ll be there to start cooking dinner!”

you merely nod, brushing past him.

—

you begin with restocking the fridge. meat, eggs, yogurt, almond milk, fruits, and the like. jungkook arrives when you’re already unpacking the second bag, and his first instinct is to affectionately hug you from behind. after too many days physically apart, he’ll be damned if he’ll allow even an inch of distance between your bodies.

your actions are put on halt when his palm presses on your neck, and then the back of it. “why do you feel so warm? don’t you feel sick?”

it was the final blow. to be honest, it’s been long overdue. you’re frozen in place, defeated as one by one, the tears finally drip from your damp eyelashes. they roll down your cheeks, some crashing on the table and seeping into the wood to form tiny circles of a darker shade of brown. the rest of them rolls down to the hand that is checking your temperature. you sniffle before he can question the new sensation on his skin.

“hey- hey, what’s wrong? are you crying?“ he moves to your side for a better view of your face, but you shake your head in denial. “what happened? baby?”

“nothing.” you mutter, brushing him off.

you gather the bottles of soy sauce and vinegar, wiggling out his hold to place them in the shelf above the stove. you return to the table to pick up the stuff that goes in the cabinets, but jungkook catches your wrist, removing the pack of sliced bread from your hand.

“i thought we’re not supposed to shut each other out.” he whispers, pulling you closer and guiding your arms around his waist. “it breaks my heart when you cry, baby.”

his doe eyes are pleading as he tilts up your chin to meet his gaze, thumb softly drawing circles on the apple of your cheek. you feel so utterly lost, overwhelmed by his gestures of kindness and affection. and yet you cry, because if he loved you that much, how did breaking up became an option he was willing to choose?

“our anniversary…” you trail off, ripping apart at the seams. “it still counts.”

neither of you knows if it’s a statement or a question.

“it still counts.” he nods slowly, repeating your words. “sh-should it not?”

his heart races in his chest as fear creeps up on him, dreading your answer. did he fuck up again? but your response only leaves him with more questions floating above his head.

“if we only had a pause- does that mean you… didn’t try looking for someone else? right? you didn’t sleep with anyone? while we were…”

for a moment, jungkook forgets how to speak as silence reigns over. his forehead creases in confusion, a sharp pang digging in his heart like a dagger as you wait with bated breath.

“no. why would you ev- no. no, i didn’t. where is this coming from?” his round, agitated eyes search for a clue in your expression but you don’t allow him that privilege, impassive as you withdraw from the close proximity between you.

“it doesn’t matter, that’s all i needed. thank you for answering.” you sigh heavily, turning on your heel to head to the bathroom. “i’m going to wash up.“

“____, come on. don’t walk away from me.” he almost begs out of desperation as his fingers curl around your arm, itching to embrace you because serrated trepidation is gnawing at his insides. he’s not losing you. he’s not losing you. he’s not losing you. he won’t let you slip away.

you sigh. “let go, jungkook.”

“how can i let you walk away after learning that you think i cheated on you?” he frustratedly blurts out, the words revolting on his tongue. this was never supposed to happen. he was supposed to be a partner who never gave you any reason to question his faithfulness. “that doesn’t matter?”

“it doesn’t.” you assert firmly.

jungkook is scared. he doesn’t understand how you can look at him like this, pretend you’re not wounded and bleeding. he doesn’t know if you’re giving him a pass or if you’re punishing him.

“either way, you broke up with me, jungkook… i would hate it, but it wouldn’t have been cheating.”

“it is to me.” his hauntingly angelic voice shatters, along with your fragile hearts as he says- “i didn’t love you any less and you know that.”

sorrow seeps into the silence, permeating the cold air, thick with heartache and tension. you walk away from him wordlessly, and jungkook is taken aback, vision blurred and unfocused as his hand drops to his side, devastatingly dejected.

“____!” your name fades into a muffled noise.

the doorknob clicks when you lock it. numb as your feet carry you to the sink, numb as you twist the faucet until you can’t anymore. the strong pressure of the water hitting the porcelain echoes throughout the dimly-lit bathroom. you tightly grip the edge of the sink as you fall apart disastrously, like a wave blazing past the shore and destroying everything in its path with ferociousness — because it’s the only thing left it knows how to do. your endless tears turn the cold tap water into saltwater. it inevitably overflows, spilling over the edges and soaking your trembling hands.

when he broke up with you, it opened the door to many other possibilities that hurts you to think about. you thought you knew, too. but the seed of doubt was planted in your mind when you were forsaken, and it kept growing as a wildflower even when he came back and laid beside you after not reaching out for weeks.

the last time you cried like this, you begged him to allow you to keep loving him.

your weak knees give in to the pull of gravity, heedless of nasty bruises as you cover your mouth to restrain your afflicted sobbing, nails scratching the porcelain as your lone hand insists on holding you up. sometimes love is not a warm comforting embrace. sometimes love is teeth. sometimes love is biting and perversely holding on. were you not worth fighting for? this time around, can he sacrifice something else instead of you? does that make you sound selfish? what if you don’t care that it does? and you wonder if it’s alright for two people to be in a relationship despite having different ideas of what loving means. you wonder if you’ve truly changed his mind.

outside, jungkook anxiously paces back and forth. the piercing sob that tears itself from your throat and crawls through the small cracks of the door is a direct, forceful punch to his gut. he swallows thickly, wiping away the tears brimming his eyes. he can’t cry, not right now. four months have passed, but it isn’t time’s job to heal all wounds. it’s his.

—

“what are you making?”

jungkook’s bubble pops when he hears your voice. he didn’t even realize when the shower stopped running, too absorbed in the kitchen so that he won’t intrude into your boundaries despite his restlessness. he takes you in, clad in your silk pajamas, before looking back at the bowl of dark brown batter he’s been tirelessly stirring and folding to incorporate the ingredients together.

“brownies.”

“all of a sudden? thought you were going to make dinner.” you leave no space between the two of you as you dip in the tip of your pinky finger for a taste.

that was the original plan, but he knows that you like to consume sweets when you’re feeling down.

“i’m about to. are you hungry?“ he speaks in a subdued voice, gingerly rubbing your lower back. “i’m putting this in the oven now.“

“can i help?”

jungkook dies a little inside when your eyes meet and he notices that yours are swollen, yet still gleaming with affection.

“you can, uhm, peel the potatoes?”

you curiously look back to see the ingredients for gamjatang, pork bone soup, laid out on the dining table. “okay.”

as you begin to diligently do the task you were assigned, he transfers the batter to the pan covered with parchment paper before pushing it inside the pre-heated oven. the faint pitter-patter of the rain fills the apartment as the clouds squall once more. he occupies the seat next to you, entire body facing you as his arm rests on top of the backrest of your chair.

“don’t you want to talk about it?”

you frown, briefly pausing as you ponder so you won’t cut yourself. “no, i want to… i just needed time to think.”

he grows quiet, biting at his nails as he watches your hands smoothly peel off the skin of a potato using a paring knife.

“it matters to me.” he’s been dying to say. “____, you know that i love you, right?”

you thought you had no tears left in you, but your face is feeling hot yet again.

“i know.”

“i did a shitty job at showing it because i was stupid, but it never stopped being true.” he says, steady and sure, doe eyes longing to read your mind. “i love you so much, hm…? i love you.”

“i know. that’s why i’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

a small bitter smile appears on your face as you pick up another potato to peel.

“the other day, your aunt told me you went on dates… she even showed me old pictures of you and the girl together then apologized to me-” you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “for setting you up, because she thought i got what i wanted from you and finally backed off. but none of your friends ever mentioned this person to me… or you… that’s why i couldn’t- i couldn’t… it was embarrassing.”

it’s hilarious, really, how you were scared shitless of jungkook’s parents not approving of you, but you failed to consider his relatives. you can’t shake off the subtle looks indicating that you were dirt on her shoe, the honeyed condescending tone that made you feel small and hollow as you sat with her at the bus stop, completely clueless as she rambled. you wanted to laugh, cry, and curse up a storm. and you would’ve chased after her when she went to ride the bus without giving you the opportunity to stand up for yourself, but you had to remind yourself that your actions might taint people’s perception of jungkook, and you couldn’t risk that.

“baby- baby, look at me. please.”

he carefully pries away the potato and the knife from your hands, cupping your face in his big palms. you gaze at him wide-eyed as you ground yourself by clutching onto his wrist. your loud heartbeat pounds in your ears because it’s not always that you can look at each other like this, meeting halfway, seeing more than feeling.

his eyebrows are closely knitted, nose scrunching and barely blinking as he sets the record straight.

“it was one time. she’s been trying to set us up since forever, then… then she planned a date during the time we weren’t talking without even confirming with me… it was a place outside the company, so i just went to say it was a misunderstanding and i’m taken! i felt embarrassed because it’s a family friend. nothing more…” he caresses you tenderly, feeling a pinch in his chest as he tries to put himself in your shoes. “i promise, love, i left after like two minutes. why would i go on dates when i was losing my mind, hm? i was missing you like crazy.”

you melt into him when he crosses the short distance between you, pressing his soft lips on yours for a kiss that makes the whole world quiet. your noses brush each other before he withdraws.

“she left out that part, didn’t she?” he rhetorically asks with venom stirred in his otherwise dulcet voice.

you purse your lips into a thin line.

“seriously, this- this is ridiculous… this is bullshit. she really did it this time. ah, i’m angry! does this even make sense? what’s the point of all that?” jungkook huffs with a sarcastic chuckle as he runs his fingers through his hair, squeezing and tugging to release his growing frustration somehow.

this is why his lover has been doubtful of his devotion? he has known his aunt since he learned how to recognize faces, and he knows that it takes a whole lot for you to reach this breaking point. he can only imagine the interaction that took place, and it makes him feel sick to his stomach.

you’ve seen the good and the bad, and you focus on the good, and you stay with him despite despite despite.

he takes a deep breath to compose himself, and then his tongue prods the inside of his cheek as his determined eyes search for his phone. he quickly snatches it from the table and stands up, the screen coming to life as he unlocks it with his thumb’s fingerprint. “i’ll be right back, baby.”

“jungkook,” you call out his name as a warning, grasping his wrist before he can go too far. “don’t act rashly.”

“i’m not! i’d go to busan but i’ll put that off because i’d rather spend my day-off with you.”

you don’t know what you were expecting his reaction would be, but it’s not a great leap to say that he is furious, pending to explode.

“i’ve been nothing but polite even though she was fucking badgering me non-stop, but i won’t let her think that it’s okay to treat you like that… she doesn’t have the right to meddle with my life, and she can’t disrespect the most important person to me. i-i-” he pauses to breathe, chest heaving with the weight of his emotions. “i won’t allow it.”

you are his calmness and he is the storm.

his voice wavers by the end of his sentence, doe eyes turning glassy as he sincerely confesses, which is probably why this isn’t the right time for you to smile like a lovesick highschooler with a crush. this is exactly what you tried to avoid, making a mess and a series of uncomfortable holidays, so why does it have to feel good to hear him say that?

you nod with understanding as you free his wrist. “okay. don’t take too long.”

jungkook heads to the front door before his anger can be erased by his adoration for you, so endearing as you peel small potatoes like you had all the time in the world.

as he steps outside, the raucous rain rings in your ears and its distinct smell mixed with the soil enters the apartment.

you cluelessly blink at the ingredients surrounding you as you mutter to yourself. “how many of these am i supposed to peel again?”

—

jungkook returns after a phone call that went longer than planned, but not before wiping the wet floor from both sides of your front door to avoid accidents. he discovers you squatting infront of the unlocked kitchen oven.

“what are you doing?” he asks with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“it’s baked…” you raise the toothpick you poked the brownie with, tilting your head to the side. “right?“

“oh, it is! let’s take it out.”

he rushes to the counter to wear oven mitts, and you stand aside so he can carry out the pan from the oven. you follow him as he places it on top of the wooden table mat on the table, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt to gain his attention.

“what happened?” you interrogate him worriedly as he pulls off the oven mitts from his hands.

“huh?” you’re coaxed to move closer when he caresses your nape, sliding down to the smooth expanse of your back. “my mom will call you soon.”

“what? why?!”

“she wants to cook for you. to apologize for what her son and her sister did.” he scrunches his nose with a guilty chuckle, scratching his head. “let’s go home for dinner one of these days, okay? we’ll cook your favorites.”

“but i thought…” you chew on your bottom lip, hand balling in a fist and crumpling the fabric of your boyfriend’s t-shirt. “did you call your mom too? i don’t want to cause trouble.”

“what do you mean? you’re doing nothing of the sort.” he gives you a disapproving look, gently squeezing your tense hand to quell your worries. “and it just turns out she was listening the whole time i was talking. they’re hanging out together. uh, besides, she would’ve found out one way or the other.”

“but they can’t be fighting, right?”

“aigoo, don’t worry about it anymore. stop hurting your brain. it’s mean.” he strokes your head lovingly with a small smile that suggests an answer to your question. “your mother-in-law loves you. everything’s okay. it’s cold so let’s just eat our dinner then cuddle in bed, hm, baby?”

oh. your mother-in-law?

“you’re so annoying.” you mutter half-heartedly, burying your face in your hands as the tears surge in once more.

god, you feel so relieved.

you crash against jungkook’s body when he tugs you closer to envelope you in his arms. maybe, just maybe, if he does it long enough, you will be pieced back together. even though he, himself, breaks when you weakly pound at his chest with clenched fists.

“i hate you. i hate you. i hate you.” you chant like a broken record in between sobs, glitching in cracks and pauses and stutters. the more you say the same three words, the more they lose their meaning.

he squeezes his eyes shut, enduring the heart-splitting pain and embracing you tighter. “i know- i know.” he repeats your words from earlier.

he hates himself, too. he needs to get his shit together. he understands — he has to grow up if he wants to keep you.

“but i love you, and i’m scared you’ll leave again and i won’t beg you anymore.” you ramble without thinking, brain on auto-pilot mode. “i’m not that kind of person, jungkook. that’s not me. i don’t have to prove it, do i?”

you feel so utterly exposed, disgustingly vulnerable. nevertheless, before jungkook is anything else, he is your best friend.

“t-they think i’m using you.” you hiccup, forearm covering your stinging eyes. you taste the salt in your own tears as you speak. “but that’s unfair, so unfair. i only accept what i’m given. i barely ask you for anything. it was only one time, o-only one time. i asked you to come back, because i missed you. i want to be with you because you make me happy.”

jungkook’s jaw clenches in anger, no longer able to withhold his tears. he sniffles, wiping his wet cheek on his shoulder. you’ve suffered more than enough because of him. if anything, he should be the one getting the lashings from his side and yours. this is wrong. this is all wrong.

“shh- shhh. breathe, baby.” he coos as he pushes down your arm, brushing away the tears on your face. “come here.”

you whimper when he swoops you off your feet, carrying you bridal style to the living room. he sits on the sofa, and he sits you on his lap. you slide off him, just a tiny bit for your back to reach the armrest, pulling him along with you.

“hug me,” you demand quietly.

he fails to defy the urge to smile, abruptly pulling you in for a passionate kiss that steals the air from your lungs. your eyelids flutter shut, tense body relaxing into him as your lips follow his lead in this delicate dance of enigmatic intimacy. your fingers graze his jaw shakily, afraid it might cut you and you’ll be awoken from this enduring dream. they desperately tangle themselves with his hair, digging to keep him glued onto you.

“i won’t leave again. no matter how hard you push me away, i will stay within your reach.”

he makes a whispered promise carved into the walls of your apartment, sealed by his lips pressing to your knuckles, and you’re left to wonder forever if he kissed your left ring finger on purpose.

jungkook is soft-spoken, slow and careful with his words that could make or break you.

“i’m so sorry that i hurt you. and i’m sorry that you have to go through this because of me. i’m sorry for everything. i’m sorry. but…” he inhales, and exhales, licking his lips. “the noise might never stop. i know it’s not as easy to say, but i hope we don’t let them get into our heads. just because we can hear them, doesn’t mean we have to listen, you know?”

and as much as it kills him to admit-

“we’re fragile right now, so i want to protect what we have.”

you profusely nod your head, and his thumbs sweep over your cheeks to catch your teardrops.

“let’s be happy, and love each other for a very long time, hm…? i know you’re not that kind of person, so you can ask me for anything. or you can even take them without asking me. i don’t care. what about it?” he says with passion and conviction, galaxy-filled eyes expanding as he shakes his head. “but never me, or my love. you shouldn’t feel like you have to ask for it. do you know why?”

you arch an eyebrow at him, still switching between fiddling with his long and slender fingers and tracing the veins running along his arms. “why?”

“because i’m yours. every single second of everyday. i love you. you deserve all the love i can give. that’s my number one responsibility as your boyfriend… but i failed you. i know you forgive me but… but i-i want to love you better. i won’t get tired of fighting for us, and showing you that i mean everything i say.”

“don’t say things like that.” at last, you crack a genuine smile, giggling as you lightly hit his chest. “i’ll become greedy.”

“good. that’s what i want.” he retorts with a chuckle, but he means it wholeheartedly.

he wants to be inconvenienced by you. he wants to make impulsively confrontational phone calls he will overthink before bed. he wants you to wake him up in the middle of the night clawing for snuggles. he wants you to jump on his back when you’re exhausted of walking. he wants to charm the owner of your favorite restaurant into cooking one more meal before closing because you always ask him to make a quick stop when he visits you. he wants his life to be influenced by yours in every possible way, two different colors mixed in a palette to create a new one that matches the sky.

“thank you.” you smile sheepishly. “and i’m sorry too, for everything. i don’t handle these things well… i’m still learning.”

“mhmm-hmm.” he shakes his head in disagreement, before leaning in to pepper your face with kisses. “i love you.” he smells like romance and comfort, sugar and cocoa from the brownies — the cure to your nausea. you still taste a hint of the sweet flavor when your tongue darts out to lick your dry lips, traces from your taste test and his.

“babe?” you whisper after minutes that felt like hours, drowsy and cozy cuddled up with your boyfriend in the corner of your sofa.

he hums in question, sleepily nuzzling his face on your neck.

“i’m so hungry. i think i’m going to die.”

“ah, yes. i can hear that.”

—

“should i slice the onions next?” you question in a sing-song voice as you enter the kitchen, immediately regaining possession of knife.

“stay away from them. i don’t want you to cry again.”

you pout, clicking your tongue. “you’re right. then what else can i do…? why do you look scared?”

you study jungkook’s wary stance in amusement, taking a glance at your hand where his shaking pupils are trained.

he playfully puts up his arms in surrender, laughter laced with nervousness. “baby, stop waving the knife around.”

“i’m not!”

“yes, you are! just put it down. i’ll do everything, okay?”

you place it back on the table with a scoff, slumping on the chair and crossing your arms. “and then what?”

“then have the brownies for appetizer.” with a self-satisfied grin, he cuts out a slice of brownie that has cooled down during the time it was left unattended.

“i don’t think this is how it works.”

“shhh, baby.“ he menacingly hushes you with his pointer finger over his lips. “don’t say anything. just taste it first. ahhh-“

you take a small bite from the piece that he’s holding out for you, and then another after deeming it too small.

“how is it?” he gulps as he anticipates your reply.

“yummy!”

“really?” he giggles when you chomp on the remaining dessert and accidentally bite his poor fingers.

“don’t know what makes a good brownie exactly, but it’s perfect to me.” you nod your head enthusiastically, somewhat feeling better with the prospect of having your stomach filled with more of your boyfriend’s cooking.

your jaw slacks open in offense when he slaps your hand in the middle of your attempt to pick up the knife, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he threateningly looks at you.

“what was that for? i just want more brownies!” you cry out, lightly kicking his shin from under the table.

“oh- ow!” he cracks up in hearty laughter, corners of his eyes crinkling as he rubs the affected area. “sorry, i’m sorry for my fault! they’re all yours! please forgive me! i’m sorry!”

you send him a scowl before pouring all your focus into slicing the rest of the dessert into bite-sized squares.

he bends down to your eye-level, cutely tilting his head to the side as he speaks lowly. “i’ll cook dinner now. just wait a little more… maybe two hours?”

“please tell me you’re joking.”

—

not long after, you hop on the vacant counter space with the brownies for a better view of the kitchen scene. you leisurely swing your legs as you watch jungkook freely move around your kitchen, occasionally getting lost as he converses with himself. if your calculations are correct, he has asked himself the questions “oing? what was i supposed to do again? what did i come here for?” twice so far. it’s a good thing he talks to himself out loud so you can remember things for him.

he stirs the pot of stew, leaves to gather more ingredients, then comes back to dump them in. the cycle ends with nods of satisfaction, before he waddles over to your spot for a snack break. straight away, you greet his parted lips with the chocolate-y goodness that was reaped from his sweat and tears.

as he chews on the brownie, he turns his face to the other direction and pokes his cheek for another request. with your thighs caging his hips and your hands grasping his collar, you tug him closer to your body. your plushy lips plant gentle but full kisses on his cheek, trailing down to his defined jaw and neck when you run out of space. the tingling sensation shooting up his spine prompts his fingers to dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, breathing gradually getting heavier with your every electrifying touch. the final kiss is granted to his adam’s apple, more prominent as he swallows.

you straighten back up while fixing your hair, and jungkook’s starry eyes follow your red lips in a hypnotized daze. there’s no one else who can make his heart flutter quite like you do. your breathy giggles are music to his ears as you take in the sight of both his cheeks adorned with scattered lipstick marks, appearing like watercolor on paper.

“what’s that for?” he eyed you suspiciously while you were painting your lips, but it’s him who kept coming back to you for more although you were already happy with one.

“you look so funny.”

but if this arrangement goes: he can make you laugh by granting you the permission to leave marks where your lips have been, he will happily live with that.

“can i take a picture?”

but you don’t even have to ask. your phone is still charging in the bedroom, so he proposes his for your convenience.

“here. just airdrop them to yourself.” he hands it to you with a cool shrug, nonchalant on the surface but giddy inside.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send a message/ask if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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countryclubkook · 1 year

Text

Tight skirts and parties

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut. degradation, mean rafe, language, rafe calls himself daddy, pure filth, cream pies, no condom (it’s not mentioned but reader is on birth control), rafe thinks about making a sex tape, nicknames, if i need to any anything else please let me know! NSFW 18+ ONLY

Summary: When you show up to Rafe’s party wearing that tight little skirt and top he likes so much, he has to show you that you belong to him in every way possible.

do not copy, translate or repost my fics as if they are your own to any third party sites. all work on this page belongs to ME @countryclubkook. likes, comments, and reblogs here are always appreciated🤍

Rafe had pulled you into the bathroom faster than you expected. Sure you’d shown up to his party wearing that tight little skirt he loved so much and that top that fit you just right, but he barely lasted five minutes.

“You think you’re cute huh? You just want everyone to see what’s mine? Such a needy little whore, don’t worry baby, i’ll give you what you want so fucking bad” he’d whispered in your ear while undoing his belt and discarding his pants and boxers before pulling your skirt up. You waited for his reaction and then…

“No panties? What a naughty thing you are” a harsh slap against your ass and then to your pussy had you gripping the sink, your knuckles white.

“All I’m hearing is a whole lot of talk Cameron, maybe your dick just isn’t good enough so you have to stall” that was a lie, Rafe was the only person that ever made you cum until you were seeing stars, his cock was more than good enough, but it was fun to provoke him.

“Oh is that so? Should I take you back out to the party, fuck you like the dirty slut you are in front of everyone and let them all see how easily I wreck that pretty head and pussy of yours? Show them all that you’re mine” he’d shoved his cock inside your dripping hole at the last word he spoke causing you to let out a loud moan of surprise.

“Fuck Rafe, a little warning next time yeah?” you panted out. He only laughed and grabbed a fistful of your hair to pull your head back against his shoulder. His lips moved down your neck and to your shoulders before moving back up, right next to your ears, as he left marks all over your skin.

“You wanted this princess. You get no kind of warnings or mercy tonight, might even keep you here and treat you like a little fuck toy all night. How’s that sound?” the small whimper you let out and the feeling of your pussy clenching around him told him you loved the thought of that.

“Please Rafe, want it so bad” he’d managed to break you down into a begging and desperate mess in just one thrust.

“Begging already? So pathetic, one thrust,” another harsh thrust into your pussy “and you’re already begging to be used”

You tried to protest but his cock was hitting the perfect spot inside you making it hard to form any words. His grip on your hair was tight and your makeup had smudged significantly as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Rafe had his eyebrows furrowed together as he let out small groans at each snap of his hips, your mouth was hung open as whimpers fell out harmonizing with him. It was a filthy scene, the only sounds being heard were your moans mixed together, skin slapping, the wet filthy sounds of your pussy being fucked into tomorrow, if Rafe could have it filmed he would. Maybe he would the next time you had sex, he’d prop his phone up on his nightstand and record all the pretty faces and sounds you make while being used like a whore. Make sure to grab it and get nice and close to where his cock connected with your dripping hole and pull all the way out before teasing you with just the tip so he could hear you beg for it over and over again. But right now he needed to focus on the present moment and the fact that he was very close to filling you up with his cum.

“R-rafe” you squeaked, that knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter with each harsh thrust. His hand moved from your hair to your throat and squeezed it just tight enough to restrict your breathing, but not to the point it hurt you (more than you liked at least).

“Yeah? You close pretty girl, going to cum all over my cock and milk me dry?” his moaned into your ear loving the way you whimpered.

“Fuck! Yes” you whined out knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer.

“Fucking greedy whore. You want all my cum baby? Want me to fill you up so full and let you go back out there with my cum leaking down your thighs for everyone to see?” he lifted one of your legs to get deeper and you nearly collapsed from the new angle. He moved one hand to your hip and the other to right under your breasts, groping them roughly, to keep you standing.

“Please Rafe, need to cum so bad”

“Fucking cum then baby, make a mess for daddy” the nickname did something to you, sure you’d thought about calling him that and the two of you had lightly teased each other after you’d accidentally let it slip once, but it had never gone farther than that.

This orgasm felt different than ones you’d had before, it was longer and it made your head spin. You felt Rafe fill you up, the moaning from him making you even more dizzy than you were, before he gave a few more small thrusts and gently pulled out. You let a small gasp and whimper out at the now empty feeling and heard him chuckle in amazement.

“What’s so funny Cameron?” you turned around to look at him when you realized his thighs were soaked, your face instantly turned red in embarrassment. “Oh my god Rafe i’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened. I really didn’t mean to I-“ but he cut you off with a kiss.

“Baby, that was so. Fucking. Hot. You just squirted for me” excitement evident in his voice and you suddenly felt less embarrassed at what just happened.

“Oh yeah? You’ll have to make it happen again” you gave him a flirty wink before bending down to suck his cock clean.

“No need for that baby, there’s more important things needing to be done” the smirk on his face should have told you he was up to something, but you were still slightly too fucked out to care.

“And what would that be…daddy” you were pushing his limits, you should have known better.

“You’re going to go back out there and enjoy the party, you stay by my side the whole night, and you enjoy the feeling of my cum inside your needy cunt. If it starts to drip, you leave it there or so help me i’ll bend you over the fucking table in front of everyone here and fuck you full of cum over and over and over until you pass out from overstimulation. You’re staying here tonight baby, you’re all mine” your eyes went wide, his face was dead serious and you didn’t want to push anymore. You knew he’d make it hell for you later if you did.

“Yes sir” your voice was small as you nodded. He gave you a cocky smile and a gentle kiss before pulling your skirt down and walking you back out to the party.

“Yo Cameron! We’ve been waiting for you two to finish fucking, come check this out” Kelce hollered causing you to hide your face in your hands as embarrassment flooded over you. Rafe just gave you a smirk before hollering back.

“On my way man!” before dragging you over with him, his cum slowly starting to drip down your inner thighs. Fuck, you were in for a long night.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #obx imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks netflix #outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x fem!reader #obx smut #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx x y/n #rafe x you #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction

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twice-in-a-blue-moon · 1 year

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Shower Thoughts

Solomon x Fem! reader

AN: Lord it's been a while since I've written smut, but I'm trying to get myself out of a writer's block and I think it's working??? Anyways, do enjoy! :)

Warnings: no actual smut just Solomon having horny thoughts, mentions of clit and breast play, mentions of vaginal penetration, mentions of marking, masturbation

Minors DNI!

The gentle smell of your shampoo and body wash wafted through the hall as you showered, the scents melding to Solomon's nostrils when he left his room. He could also hear you singing different songs - most of which were a little off key, but he certainly didn’t mind as he stood by the bathroom door and listened.

He found himself snickering when you attempted to belt a lyric at the top of your lungs and fail, or when you mixed up the next line in the song with your own laughs echoing in the shower walls. It was cute how you laughed at yourself being silly.

It was innocent, until it wasn’t. At some point Solomon’s thoughts began to wander into dangerous territory.

It started with him thinking about the warm water that trickled down your body, the suds you’d wash away as you ran your hands along your soft skin.

He imagined joining you, running his own hands over your curves, cupping your breasts and teasing your nipples in a way that made you whine. Nipping at your neck and leaving marks everywhere his lips trailed while snaking a hand between your thighs and circling your clit, speeding up only to slow down right after, just enough to drive you crazy. He thought about pressing kisses into your shoulder as he pushed you against the cold wall of the shower and the small gasp that action would elicit and how good you’d feel around him once he sheathed himself deep within you.

Instead of your laugh or your singing, your moans would now echo throughout the bathroom. His grunts and groans harmonizing wondrously with yours, creating an intoxicating medley of sounds Solomon could never get tired of. Your body shuttering as you’re pushed over the edge, squeezing him and coaxing him to cum…

The sound of the water shutting off snapped Solomon from his catatonic state. He felt his cock straining against his pants, so he quietly retreated back to his room. His mind continued to be plagued with thoughts of you as he pleasured himself, spilling his seed all over his hand with an insatiable hunger burning in his stomach.

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me suggestive #obey me solomon smut #solomon smut #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #solomon x you #solomon x reader #obey me scenarios #obey me fanfic #jo writes spice

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prodbymaui · 8 months

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My Kind Of Love

spit in my mouth while you turn me on

PAIRING: mark lee x reader

GENRE: the idol

WORD COUNT: 1.5k words

WARNINGS: ice play, oral sex, spit kink, cum eating, slight voyeurism (ig?)

SYNOPSIS: You had an extra time after your photoshoot. What's a more worth it way of spending it other than visiting your favorite producer, Mark?

A/N: inspired by one of 'the idol' scenes where lily wears a red robe and somewhat seduces abel. enjoy reading!

SONG: One Of The Girls by The Weeknd, Jennie, Lily Rose-Depp

A click, and the pleasantly smooth sensual melody begins to fill the entirety of the recording room. Mark hums, nodding his head in the flow of the beat, elbow resting on the armchair as his forefinger ghosts over his lips. His fingers taps against the table, mind running as he searches for parts to improve.

Not even finished listening to the verse that he just worked on, Mark's hand hovers above the keyboard once again, quickly adjusting and adding what he thought the song lacks.

This needs a few more layers, Mark thinks. So he slides his chair to the other side of the table where the mic settles and closes his eyes, there he harmonizes with his own voice, layering a mellow adlib underneath the sharp yet slow rap.

Just as Mark opens his eyes, the door opens without much of a knock, and turning around, he meets a vixen clad in red silk robe, a mesh black tights with black suspenders attached to what Mark likes to think is a sinful lace panties in the same color.

There's no way in saying Mark doesn't enjoy the view that he is blessed with. His eyes rakes down your figure, coming back up to meet your lustful gaze. The corner of your lips curves just a little before you take steps towards the man. His legs spread to have you in between as though instinctively, hands itching so much that he couldn't help but to grab your waist, squeezing just enough to feel your body heat seep through the silk fabric.

Water droplets fall onto Mark's skin, it is just then that he notices the glass of whiskey you're holding. ''Drinking alcohol late at night, huh. Tell me, darling,'' Mark leans back. ''What got you prancing around the company with just a thin piece of clothing to cover those nipples?''

You sip once more, holding Mark's stare for a few seconds before licking the liquor that sits on top of your lips' skin. ''Was doing a photoshoot for my new album– decided to pay my favorite producer a visit before changing. I just had a hunch he'd like to see me in this.''

Your words elicit a scoffy chuckle from Mark. He stands up. ''Favorite producer, hmm?'' His palm travels down and stops when it reaches your ass cheek, gripping lightly.

While Mark's other arm circles your waist, he noses your neck, closing his eyes as Mark allows himself to get drunk on your scent, kissing the pathway your throat creates. Pulling you closer, Mark nips your skin occasionally whilst he makes way to your jaw, soon connecting his lips with yours.

Mark swiftly delves his tongue in your mouth, sucking as you offer him your own. If words are to be chosen to describe the kiss, it'll be slow, sensual, and sultry. Just like the song that plays from the speakers surrounding the two of you.

Abruptly yet effortlessly, Mark spins your position and gives you a little push, pinning you down now that you're sitting on the chair. One of his legs separates your thighs apart, welcoming himself between you. Distracted from the way Mark delivers pleasure just from having his mouth on yours alone, you didn't notice how Mark steals the glass out of your hand and places it behind you, out of danger but is enough for him to reach it as well.

Suddenly, a freezing palm comes in contact with the back of your neck. Flinching, you whimper at the cold, tugging Mark's shirt. Instead of taking his hand off, he pulls away from the kiss, not without licking the string of saliva first. In contrast to the icy palm, a warm one rubs your side soothingly, it then nudges your robe away, revealing your nipples.

A sigh leaves your lips, fingers brushing through Mark's locks as you feed him more of your hard buds. Mark growls in satisfaction. Catching it between his teeth, pulling lightly, tweaking it with his fingers and sucking before licking the faint pain away. He does the same to the twin, spitting on it only to lick it away after biting it a few more.

''God, I fucking love your nipples. So fucking sexy. So pretty– always ready for me whenever. If I want to suck on them the whole day, you'll let me, right baby?''

''Yes– Haah– yes, lick them all you want. Ahh..''

Thinking you'll finally get his cock as Mark hums lowly, pecking each of your nipples, you fiddle with his belt. But Mark pins you to the chair again, kissing your forehead as he stretches his arm behind you.

''It's getting hot in here, darling. Would you mind a little raise in the temperature?'' Your eyes fall on the cubes of ice that melts inside the glass, you look up at Mark. One look and you know this is a way to ask consent. To ask you if you're down to try a new thing. Without hesitation, you nod.

Mark tilts his head to the side. ''Words, love. I need your words.''

''Yes, please..''

He brushes strands of hair off your face.

''Good girl.''

Gulping the last sips of whiskey, Mark gives your lips one last swipe of tongue, letting you taste the alcohol. Pressing the glass on your inner thigh, shivers shoot up your spine. You bite your lower lip to endure the cold, toes curling as Mark spreads the icy droplets along your stomach up to your neck. Your eyes are closed, anticipating Mark's next move when you jerk in your seat, hand enclosing around Mark's wrist as you whimper, opening your eyes to see him tracing the line between your pussy cheeks with a cube.

''Fuck, really..? Not wearing a fucking underwear while a bunch of people watches you pose in front of the camera? What if they saw this, baby? Imagine the fucking headlines,'' Mark chuckles. ''A rising pop idol foregoes wearing panties during a photoshoot because they are desperate for someone to fuck them. How would your fans react to their lovely artist acting like a whore, my love? Would they like it as much as I do?''

Mark nudges your legs open, and as you do, the ice dips and lands exactly where your pulsating clit awaits. ''Fuck..'' You sigh.

''Yeah?''

Getting on his knees, Mark situates his face in front of your soaked core. He plays with the cube a little more until it melts completely and eases the cold with the warmth of his mouth. Mark laps and sucks, slurping your juices as he buries himself in your pussy, grunting on how your walls clench around his pink muscle.

Soon, his fingers join his tongue. Curling and prodding at your spot that sends your back arching, hands gripping the armchairs as you let your lewd moans bounce off the walls of the recording room. When Mark deems you're stretched enough, he pulls away and tugs his pants down enough to release his cock, tip in angry red shade.

Resting one leg on the armchair while pulling the other over his shoulder, Mark slides home. Groaning as your hot walls impressively engulfs his girthy cock like no other. Once he's deep and snug, Mark picks up a maddening pace, not giving you time to adjust nor get used to his size.

''A-ah! Ah ah ah! Mark– slow down… You're so big–... s-so big–!'' Your face scrunches up; eyebrows meeting, eyes shut tight, mouth open.

''I am, darling. And you love it.''

Your arms underneath Mark's, landing on his back. As Mark angles his hips and jabs at your spot, your eyes cross and your nails instinctively try to draw red lines along Mark's back but his shirt prevents it from happening. So instead, you opt for grabbing a handful of the fabric, tugging them as your hips unconsciously bucks to meet Mark's thrust.

The chair creates a continuous squeaking sound, continuously thudding as it bumps against the soundboard. Mark reaches to hold the back of the chair, spreading your wider. He renders his thrusts deep and hard, an action that slacks your jaw which allows drools to roll out past your lips and to your chin. Mark leans forward, spitting on your willing mouth before licking the strings of saliva and connecting your lips together. It cannot even be considered as a kiss because it is all panting and moaning against each other's mouth.

''Right there! I-I'm gonna cum.. fuck, Mark, I'm gonna cum! Shit– Mark! Ugh fuuuuck..'' Together with the drawn out curse is your eyes rolling to the back of your eyes, walls clamping down on Mark's cock as a white cream forms a ring around him.

The sight of you coming while moaning his name, Mark pistons his hips violently as he lets lust take over his mind and body. His thrusts becomes erratic and vigorous, and with an encouragement of words from you, Mark fills you up to the brim, his legs embarrasingly shaking as though he was the one who got fucked and not the one who s.

As Mark pulls out, he curses under his breath at the sight of his cum spilling out of your pussy. If that isn't the hottest fucking thing. You know what makes this hottest shit even hotter? Scooping his cum, feeding it to you while he fishes out a yet to melt ice and kisses the shit out of you, sharing the whole serve of the mixture of his cum and yours.

A/N: wrote this in an attempt to get out of slump so I apologize if it's not as good as my other fics. hope you enjoyed, nonetheless! share your thoughts?

#nct smut #mark smut #nct #nct mark #mark lee #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct boyfriend #mark scenarios #mark imagines #nct dream #nct 127 #prodbymaui

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rose-edith · 2 years

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Y/N: Jethro, what are you doing?! Why are you burning our marriage certificate?!

Gibbs: Good luck trying to return me without the receipt.

#ncis #ncis x reader #ncis headcanons #ncis imagine #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs #mark harmon #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs headcanons #jethro gibbs #mark harmon x reader #jethro gibbs headcanons #jethro gibbs imagine #jethro gibbs x reader #ncis reader insert #ncis gibbs #mark harmon is seriously sexy though

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thebeast-dennis-etcetera · 2 months

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Death of Me

It was official. You were going to murder your husband. How many times had you told him to be careful. To not put himself in harms way anymore than absolutely necessary. He’d always tell you not to worry while giving you that damn smile that had you believing every word he said. And now you were rushing to the hospital for the second time in the month because of a phone call letting you know that Jethro had been hurt.

Tim met you in the hospital lobby, bypassing the check in and you both entered the elevators.

“How bad is it Tim?”

“Well he’s recovered from worse but you’ll definitely need to keep him from overdoing it for a few days.”

You gave him a look before speaking. “Yeah. And I’ll teach him to speak Mandarin while I’m at it.”

Tim led you out of the elevators and down the hall to his room but stopped you before you headed in.

“Just a heads up. Since he came out of surgery, he’s been a little out of it. I think the Morphine is really kicking his ass.”

“Hm. Well better that than me. Thanks Tim.”

You gave him a grateful hug and walked into the dim hospital room. As soon as your eyes fell on him, all anger dissipated. He was asleep, shirtless and left shoulder bandaged up. His face was relaxed and breaths steady, letting you know he was genuinely getting some good rest.

Not wanting to wake him up, you quietly brought a chair over and settled in it before gently taking his hand in yours. Of course even a morphine induced nap couldn’t keep him from his hypersensitive senses as he stirred, eyes fluttered open. He looked around the room before his sapphire blue eyes fell on you and stared a second before chucking to himself.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, amused.

“My wife is gonna kill me.”

He might not have recognized you in his state of delirium but at least he knew he had a wife. You decided to play along, not seeing the hurt.

“Oh yeah? Because you’re in the hospital for the 2nd time this month due to your over brazen behavior?” you tried hinting, wondering if it would bring back some lucidity.

“Nope. Because you’re holding my hand. And she haaates when other women touch me.”

Now it was your turn to chuckle. “Well she probably just loves you too much to share you with anyone else.”

He nodded and let go of your hand, placing it on his chest while taking a deep breath.

“Yeah. She loves me. Even when I don’t deserve it..She’s great..I wish she was here..”

Your heart broke at his melancholy words, not wanting him to think you wouldn’t show up to visit and couldn’t help but reach out to touch his arm.

“Jethro. I’m your wife.”

“Right. And I’m the king of Shri Lanka,” he joked.

There wasn’t much you could do if he wasn’t coherent enough so you settled for just sitting there next to him. After a couple of minutes he fell back asleep and you took the opportunity to take his hand in yours again.

————

“Y/N?” someone spoke, waking you out of your nap. You picked your head up from the side of Jethro’s bed and saw him looking at you in slight confusion.

“Hey Gunny,” you greeted lovingly, sitting up and grimacing at the stiffness.

“Have you been here the whole time? What time is it?”

“It’s around 6pm. You’ve been asleep since about this afternoon. Surgery went really well, I’m sure you’ll be up and chasing more bad guys again in the next couple weeks.”

You got up to pour him a cup of water as he went to try and lift his bad arm, wincing immediately, making you roll your eyes at his stubbornness.

“I don’t care if I have to lock you in your basement for the next week Jethro but you’re going to let your shoulder heal properly,” you threatened, handing him the water.

“A week isn’t necessary-

You shut him down with a look that rivaled his own and he sighed in defeat.

“Oh by the way, do you remember talking with me earlier?” you asked curiously.

“No. What did I say?”

You laughed at the apprehension in his voice and took his empty cup to set it on the table.

“Well you had no idea who I was. And chastised me for touching you, saying your wife wouldn’t be happy about it.”

“Mm. I’d say that gets me a point in the honorable husband category,” he stated proudly.

You laughed and nodded. “You’re absolutely right. How about I make my famous Chicken Parm for us tonight?”

“I’ve got nothing else to do,” he responded with a small smile.

“Damn right you don’t.”

You gave him a well waited kiss and thanked the universe for the moment. You don’t know what you would do without him and you hope to never find out.

#gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis #ncis fanfiction #agent gibbs #mark harmon #ncis request #jethro gibbs x reader #ncis imagine #jethro gibbs fanfiction

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comfyrhyme20574 · 1 year

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Gibbs, sweating: Y/N, there’s something I need to ask you-

Y/N: Finally! You’re proposing!

Gibbs: How’d you know?

Y/N: Gibbs, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

Y/N: I even picked it up once.

#ncis gibbs #gibbs x reader #ncis imagine #ncis reader insert #face claim: katherine mcnamara #katherine mcnamara #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #mark harmon

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archonsabyss · 4 months

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╰─..✶. [ Impetuous Bonds ]

❒ pairing: al haitham x fem!reader [ft platonic bff wriothesley]

❒ genre: fluff! action!

❒ warnings: minor violence!

❒ wc: 5.6k

─❒ authors note: did you know I've been working on this fic since october 4th. It's been rough but the year's over thank god. on the other note, let me officially introduce my wriothesley and al haitham as besties brain rot. and yes I have plans to expand on this brain rot. atlst 2 more ideas which I'll start on as soon as the spark hits again 💐

Amid your contrasting personalities was a semblance of shared interests woven together by a single thread. You, one and the same possessed a deep love for reading, discovering solace in the scripted ink, where letters blended to form words, weaving pathways to realms of boundless creativity. Whether it delved into knowledge, seeking escape, or simply enjoying the thrill of fiction, this mutual passion became a bridge of understanding between you despite your glaring differences.

A sense of harmony prevailed in your relationship which created a captivating paradox that intrigued those around you. People marvelled at the depth of your connection, questioning how two individuals so dissimilar could share such an intimate bond. Some attributed it to the age-old saying that opposites attract, believing it to be fate's handiwork—a calm presence to counterbalance chaos, a soothing embrace against restlessness, and a tender heart to temper the directness of the wordsmith.

Alternatively, it could be argued that the similarities, subtle yet profound, were the secret ingredients of your relationship. A quiet demeanour and reserved nature concealed a dream-like love that left onlookers in both awe and envy. Your love story, tender and understated, defied expectations, leaving a trail of wonder and admiration in its wake. A love, true as an existence of pure gold, if such ethereal beauty could be acknowledged.

To you, what others deemed ordinary, was a world of its own. Normal acts of affection and simple gestures of intimacy felt like your beloved had gifted you the heavens and earth. Perhaps, the extent to which you elaborated on your connection with the acting grand sage felt akin to a tale spun from fantasy, a reverie you indulged in.

You considered that the romanticized nature of your love might have been obscured by the mist of infatuation, that the love you had for Al Haitham may have cast an enchanting illusion upon your reality. But it was okay when no harm or toxicity came from being tucked away in your little head, daydreaming about the man who had long proclaimed himself yours until the day he died.

As the early days of parading around with an unacknowledged crush, and the fledgling phase of your romance grew further in distance, you settled into a life different, happier yet marked by its trials.

You fell in step with each other, occasionally finding them offbeat or at entirely different paces, yet such is the essence of any relationship. Despite this, everything harmonized.

While you weren't a morning person, on rare occasions when sleep evaded you, you'd rise earlier than usual, and frequently, Al Haitham would already be awake. During those moments you would sit together in bed for a few minutes longer or have an early breakfast before the sun had fully ascended, relishing in the silence and warmth of each other's company, and today was one of those days.

While Al Haitham took a shower, you began preparing breakfast, knowing that your errands could only be attended to a bit later on.

Upon entering the kitchen, an aromatic veil of freshly brewed coffee gracefully filled the air, its enticing fragrance embracing Al Haitham as he sat down and reached for the coffee, finding it already thoughtfully poured into two cups, one from which you'd intermittently sipped on while engrossed in preparing food to sustain you for the first half of the day. Despite knowing its warmth had faded as you got lost in preparations, you were certain, albeit acknowledging its unhealthiness, that you'd have another cup once breakfast started. Meanwhile, Al Haitham had long eased into his seat at the island table, his hands cradling a mug, savouring the invigorating bitter heat of his coffee. His concentration remained unbroken as his eyes meticulously skimmed through the arranged stack of documents before him.

It was a simple and ordinary scene, but it was these moments shared that held such immense value.

You felt completely at ease as you moved about the kitchen, exuding the comfort of a face free from makeup, clad solely in the shirt Al Haitham discarded before bed, with your hair casually bundled in a tousled bun.

The kitchen bustled with the promise of breakfast, ingredients for pancakes and eggs scattered like confetti on the tables. In contrast to your relaxed appearance, your lover was impeccably dressed, looking incredibly handsome and sharp. For most of the time you had your back turned to him, unaware that Al Haitham couldn't help but steal glances between you and his papers.

A smirk played at the corner of his lips. Though his face remained composed, it was clear from the emotions in his eyes that he was utterly captivated by you— the subtle relaxation and absence of tension in his gaze spoke volumes.

Whenever you turned to face him, his attention would seamlessly shift back to his work, not out of shame for openly admiring his beloved, but because he understood that if your eyes locked, the temptation to whisk you back to bed would be irresistible.

"When will you join me" He mused after some time, lips hiding behind his cup of coffee as you scowled when one of the pancakes painfully flopped.

"As soon as your food is done" You mutter, sighing in relief when you flip the last pancake, turn off the stove, and turn around to set the plate of food before him.

Al Haitham's eyes lit up with deep gratitude behind the gilded frames of his glasses, glimmering with subdued enthusiasm, his smile a testament to the warmth of his appreciation as his fingers entwined with yours, gently pulling you around the counter and towards him.

With a soft kiss on your hand, he tilted his head, silently pleading for a kiss, his whispered "Thank you" lingering in the air as you leaned in, wishing to seal his gratitude with another kiss when you were startled by a sudden resounding crash reverberating through the house, signalling the forceful swing of the front door opening and closing.

You both turned your heads in the direction of the hallway and in sauntered Wriothesley who had been a guest in Sumeru as well as your home for the past week. He wore a nonchalant smile each time he visited, his hair artfully tousled, and his heavy boots thudding on the wooden floor.

Al Haitham often remarked, like clockwork, that Wriothesley would invite himself inside as if he was welcomed, which he was not by his words, but by your prior blessing to enter whenever he pleased.

Al Haitham let out an audible grumble, his smile fading as Wriothesley's smile grew, begrudgingly turning his attention to his meal, expressing his discontent in silence. You planted a kiss on his cheek and gently pulled away, a move he anticipated, evident from the disapproving glare he directed at his plate while he continued eating.

"Good morning, Wriothesley." You cheerfully greeted, just as you have every time he's made his unannounced─ yet expected entrance.

"I've just brewed a fresh pot of tea for you," You stated proudly, already taking out a cup and pouring the piping hot amber liquid in.

In response, your distinguished guest's grin widens a touch as he offers his thanks and comfortably takes a seat beside Al Haitham.

"When do you plan on returning home? I reckon your presence there is considerably valued─ necessary if you prefer" Al Haitham inquired with a casual and composed demeanour, his tone direct and perhaps a bit blunt, though neither you nor Wriothesley takes offence as you've grown accustomed to his straightforwardness.

With a playful gleam in his eyes, he opted to provoke a reaction by disregarding Al Haitham and answering you instead, "Figured you'd feed me"

"Mind your manners," Al Haitham chimes in flatly, taking a sip of his coffee while casting a sidelong glance at Wriothesley. "My wife's not here to serve you."

"Fiancée," Wriothesley corrects teasingly, his smile appreciative towards you as you set the plate before him and move on to the dishes, disregarding their banter.

Al Haitham's jaw tightened in annoyance at the correction. To him, it was merely a title, a formality. In less than a month you were set to officially become his wife, yet the significance of a ring and title paled in comparison to the deep connection he felt in his mind, heart, and soul from the very beginning. He was undeniably yours, just as you were undeniably his, and nothing could change that.

"Regardless, she's mine and has no obligation to serve you let alone feed you"

"It's not an obligation if she wants to do it" Wriothesley takes a sip of his tea, humming in contentment as the warm liquid touches his tongue and envelopes his throat, satisfied with your skills as always.

Al Haitham reluctantly admits to himself that Wriothesley is right, simply because he knows you. Over the years he has observed, comprehended, and admired you from distances far and near, he's learned almost everything there is to know about you, and your passion for cooking was one of them seeing as you've taken up the role of preparing the meals on most days.

Al Haitham has seen the way you revelled in the process of preparing meals with the mindset that your actions would fill the stomachs of those you loved dearly, even if there was the less enjoyable task of washing dishes afterwards, if it was for him, anything. To his misfortune, that anything extended to the male seated beside him as well.

You snuck a few glances between the two, restraining your amusement by biting your lip as you leaned over the counter and picked at the fruit bowls, knowing you were rarely able to stomach food this early in the morning without feeling nauseated.

"It's been a while since I've gotten to savour a meal made with love, let me enjoy this" Wriothesley smiles, savouring the mix of sugary sweet syrup that he licks off his lips.

"If you must, shut up and drink your tea" Al Haitham mumbles under his breath with an ever so small smile hinting at the corner of his lips, prompting an amused raised eyebrow from the onlooker.

"Why don't you shut up and drink your coffee so I can enjoy my tea then"

"You are insufferable"

"Do you think I'm insufferable?" Wriothesley directs at you, pursing his lips into a full pout just to annoy Al Haitham even more.

"No, Wrio. I think you're rather quite loveable" You said smiling as you leaned your forearms on Al Haitham's shoulders and placed your chin atop his head.

"See," He says smugly, "Loveable"

Al Haitham releases a deep breath, exhaling built-up frustrations, and gradually letting worries and tension fade away, he eases his shoulders, leaning back more into your embrace, while Wriothesley attempts to hide his smile upon witnessing it.

"Do you boys have any plans for the day?" You asked eventually. One of them shook his head and the other simply shrugged. "I have a few errands to run and seeing as you're both available, would you mind accompanying me?"

"That would depend" The grin returns to Wriothesley's pondering face, "I'll take my payment in the form of your baking" He decided, unfolding his arms and placing them flat on the countertop, but in doing so he receives a sharp nudge to his ankles from the tip of Al Haitham's shoe.

Wriothesley winces but doesn't retreat, he shrugs lazily before stating lastly with narrowed eyes directed at his dearest friend in emphasis, "I work enough as it is, Al Haitham. Being an errand boy has become more your thing, and besides, there's no way I'm going to pass up the chance of having your Mrs, bake for me"

Al Haitham pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to soothe the forming ache.

You smile sweetly at Wriothesley, thanking him for the compliment just as Al Haitham rises from his seat, dishes in hand and a perpetually sullen and irritated expression etched on his face, wishing for the silence that has been disturbed.

🜙˚─ [˚ ⁀🕯️⟡‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Strolling through the streets of Sumeru to reach your destination, you took the time to observe the peculiar camaraderie between Al Haitham and Wriothesley as they walked a few steps ahead of you, lost in a world of their own, one with a scowl while the other engaged in conversation, seemingly unaware that he wasn't being heard by the former.

Al Haitham's composed and disinterested expression might deceive anyone into believing he wasn't attentive, and there was a chance his noise-cancelling earpieces were intentionally activated to avoid hearing the conversation, but as you observe him closely, you discerned that Al Haitham was indeed attentive, if not wholly absorbed in the Duke's ceaseless chatter.

It was to no one's business but his own, Al Haitham once said to you, for your ears alone, while seated by your dresser, observing you through the mirror as you loosened your corset and unbuttoned your white blouse, revealing skin just above your belly button.

In unspoken words, it was a confession where he admitted he acknowledged his friends more than he expressed. He admired Kaveh's profound passion for the arts and his unwavering stubbornness when they bickered, he also acknowledged with a hint of irritation, the blonde's imperfections and his excessive eagerness to please others through tireless efforts.

What Al Haitham harbours within himself is quite bothersome to his conscious, it is the fact that Kaveh withholds emotional fragility, a presumption he believes you're already aware of, but it does not change how he engages with the latter.

Al Haitham with all his knowledge hardly wishes to entangle himself in the inner turmoil of others, hence, he chooses to refrain from crossing a particular boundary, with Wriothesley on the other hand, presented a slightly more distinct scenario where he found his company rather tolerable if not likable, though he would never dare to articulate it.

Al Haitham turned from the dresser's mirror to face you, drawing you between his parted legs and resting his hands beneath your shirt on your bare hips, he lifted his eyes to meet yours before uttering a sentence you least expected that night before bed. "Would you accompany me to Fontaine?" No further explanation was necessary; you understood the spontaneous mention of a trip to Fontaine. With a wistful smile and a tender kiss on his forehead, you agreed.

The following week, you left for Fontaine to personally wish Wriothesley a Happy Birthday, offering him companionship in his solitude for as long as you could.

What became apparent during that period, was that witnessing Al Haitham being his authentic self wasn't a rare occurrence in Wriothesleys presence.

Wriothesley had a knack for bringing vibrancy to your partner, whether through a spirited debate, an unfriendly competition, or the fact that Al Haitham's eyes had never been more devoid of his usual contentment with a mundane life. This was a side of Al Haitham you've only ever caught brief glimpses of beyond the walls of your home.

The bond threaded through the viscosity of blood coursing within their veins, knowing to most it was nothing more than a misinterpretation of their characters by the way they argued with their teeth bared and claws extended. They appeared mostly harmless. You prayed it would never escalate to physical tests of strength. A chuckle is prompted by the thought, returning you to the ongoing reality of Al Haitham and Wriothesley embroiled once more in their unending dispute.

"I don't see the need for you to be hovering," Al Haitham said. "If I wanted your company I would have asked, which in case you haven't gotten the jest by now, I don't really want"

"Al Haitham!"

Your partner's ears react to the cautionary tone in your voice, and swiftly, his head turns towards you. His eyes widen with innocence, and his demeanour dissolves, resembling a deer caught in headlights. The ongoing argument fades into oblivion, and even Wriothesley's presence is nearly erased as he shifts his focus entirely towards you.

"What?" He asked, oblivious to any issue with his earlier question.

"Could you go buy those spices you brought home last week? We've run out" It's not entirely untrue, but you simply crave a moment of peace from their conversation so you can hurry up the trip and return to the quiet solitude of your home and the warmth of your blankets, and considering Al Haitham is more responsive to your requests, you cleverly recall the need for spice and ask him to handle that quick errand while you wrap up the rest of your grocery shopping.

"Mhm," He murmured, exhaling deeply, placing a slow kiss on your cheek before moving on, going along with your tactic to separate him from Wriothesley who watches in amused bewilderment, hands placed at the top of his hips, "And here I thought I was a dog. You've got a good leash on him. Keep it that way"

"You should stop instigating him," You tell him, amusement glinting in your eyes and tugging on your lips, walking on. Leaving Wriothesley to follow along at his leisure.

"This is my sign to run along"

"Where are you going?" You tilt your head back to glance at him.

"I just remembered something, I'll be back in a bit, promise" In the blink of an eye, he vanishes, leaving you to continue on your way. When you finally reach the bustling Grand Bazaar, vibrant with crowds, you roam the markets and stalls, finding yourself engaged in conversation with Afshin, the travelling merchant, when your attention is abruptly diverted by a sudden commotion.

Across from you, a female merchant had fallen prey to a disgruntled customer, likely the source of the chaos unfolding. A table overturned, boxes strewn across the floor, their contents spilled and some irreparably damaged.

The young woman in her early twenties who stood ownership of the stall, gazed at her belongings before sinking to her knees, attempting to salvage the disarray.

Meanwhile, the customer and what you presumed to be his mercenary guards, hurled disparaging comments about the perceived inadequacy of her trade, their hands clasping the hilts of their swords as though perceiving the young woman as a clear threat.

A sigh escaped you, heart pounding with anxiety as you observed the unfolding scene.

"Give me a moment," You said, Afshin nodded in response, resuming the task of organizing the items on his table.

"Excuse me" Walking towards the occurring scene, you hesitantly intervened, drawing the glaring eyes of the customer towards you.

"This doesn't concern you. Take your nosiness elsewhere woman" He snarled in a manner that made you step back, nevertheless, you stood your ground and faced the Female merchant, offering her a reassuring smile.

"What's your name, dear?"

"Aniya"

"Aniya, what seems to be the problem?" You inquired, assessing the tables and the contents occupying them.

"This man claims my merchandise is not authentic after he has already inspected, bought, and paid for several pieces. Now he asks for a refund without returning the products"

"Look, I don't want no trouble lady" He exclaims, barely standing firm on his short stubby legs. "But if you just give me my money back I'll be on my way"

"What of my labour?! I've spent a good worth of time exploring and producing each of those carpets and materials by hand! You won't find such quality elsewhere for as cheap of a price as I've given!"

His face scrunched in anger, his guards stepping forward with a subtle signal. "If we can't reach an agreement you will pay the price"

"We won't come to an agreement if you refuse to settle your greed" You stated calmly.

The anger that exuded off him was not by any means intimidating, but the mercenaries that stepped forward at the ready, made you cautious.

The tension of the situation gradually grew and you were bordering on a violent reaction, that much you could easily tell given you've been a front-row witness to past events with both Al Haitham and Wriothesley.

As you feel yourself growing anxious, you positioned yourself protectively in front of Aniya, who, though a few years younger, was brimming with unrefined passion and working diligently. The youthful intensity in her gaze spelled trouble, yet it reflected such bravery and boldness altogether, truly embodying the spirit of a genuine merchant, and though it was admirable, it also meant there was no escaping the situation if the fiery spirit possessing her had any influence.

You breathed in steadily, gathering your hyperventilating thoughts and acknowledging your helplessness with Wriothesley and Al Haitham absent. Neither you nor Aniya were fully equipped for a direct physical confrontation, but perhaps, if you could stall them long enough, the result might not be excessively dire. The wisest choice now was to prevent provoking the man to the point that he sends those gruelling tattered mercenaries your way.

The argument─ though you wish not to call it that given you hoped to subdue the situation before it escalated, but with the feistiness of the young Merchant Aniya and the highly obnoxious and demanding customer by the distasteful name of Afif, nothing was going as planned.

Afif was a lord spoiled and rotten in both name and character. By nature, his manner of approach was enough to make your skin crawl and your throat tighten. You wonder who awaits him at home and how they endure such a man throughout their lives, considering you can hardly tolerate his attitude for even a few minutes.

They went back and forth without resolution, and each passing minute had regret swirling hefty within your conscience as neither of them backed down, the mercenaries themselves were growing antsy. With every breeze tousling your hair, it seemed like a word uttered by Afif left you feeling even more frustrated. He simply carried on spouting his nonsense of fair trade─ exposing himself as a hypocrite who disregarded the fundamental principles of fair trade.

In your mind, a silent prayer echoed, hoping for the return of either Al Haitham or Wriothesley.

These kinds of situations were precisely what you aimed to avoid, but your compassion couldn't tolerate witnessing Aniya's mistreatment, and unfortunately, because of it you landed yourself in such a predicament you could neither talk your way out nor pathetically apologize and walk away.

Meanwhile, Al Haitham was en route to the Bazaar when he coincidentally encountered Wriothesley who happened to be returning from his quick errand.

"Where'd you go" Al Haitham asked with a raised brow, causing the dark-haired Duke to pause and turn around, waiting for Al Haitham to catch up before continuing, now with him at his side.

"Look how you contradict yourself Haitham, went from claiming I was hovering to questioning my absence. Such a sweetheart─ truly" He flashed a lazy grin, revealing the pointed tips of his fangs that grazed his bottom lip.

"If you must know, Tea" He wiggled the bag mid-air for Al Haitham to see.

"I felt compelled to ask, not that I care much at all"

"You care enough"

"Unfortunately" Al Haitham muttered with a roll of his eyes, flexing the fingers of his free hand that wasn't holding the pack of spices you had asked him to fetch.

Upon entering the Bazaar, Al Haitham abruptly ceased his argument with Wriothesley. He lapsed into silence as he paused and scanned the area, allowing for his senses to come back to him.

He alongside Wriothesley took in the situation surrounding you and the menacing bodies enclosing your safe space. The ambience was palpable even from his current position.

Wriothesley glanced at Al Haitham who had already begun to pick up his pace and he followed suit.

If given the opportunity, Al Haitham would steer clear of any sort of situation that compelled him into social confrontations. He cherished solitude, finding no necessity for social interaction unless absolutely unavoidable.

He was a man of simplicity, content in silence until he met you, and suddenly, he found a liking for sharing that silence with you. In that regard, both of you shared a preference for confining yourselves within the familiar walls of home, avoiding expending energy on forced interactions.

Even when venturing outside, the dynamic persisted. Amidst a sea of people and bustling crowds, it was as if the world consisted solely of the two of you. Others might cast glances, but your attention remained fixed on the path ahead or each other.

Your ears seemed attuned exclusively to each other's voices, and your hands, not particularly fond of physical contact, found solace only in being held by one another.

But when Al Haitham caught sight of you standing there trying to convey strength through your expression, the subtle tremble in your fingers betrayed you and did not go unnoticed by him.

A cold chill ran down his spine and the sensation of blood draining from his body followed. With urgency, he briskly approached to be by your side, arriving just in time to see rough hands reaching out to seize you. Commotion and reactions stirred among the onlookers, who stood by passively, aggravating him further.

"There seems to be a problem here" Al Haitham intervened, his voice clear, monotone, and confident, arms hanging casually at his sides as he looms over the customer, whose posture shifts the moment he lays eyes on the unexpected presence of the Acting Sage.

Al Haitham's arrival brings instant relief to your anxiously furrowed forehead and your tensed shoulders.

"Acting Grand Sage" Afif mumbles with a touch of trepidation, his once gruesome expression fading entirely.

The tallest among the three mercenaries scowls in response to the sudden intrusion, displaying no fear or concern for Al Haitham in his demeanour.

It's evident that he harbours a strong desire to pummel the interrupter through those demonic eyes glaring at your lover's head. Had it not been for Wriothesley who announces his presence to you by offering a reassuring nudge to your shoulder, you'd have redirected your cowering gaze to the ground.

Wriothesley leans casually against the wooden beam of the market tent, arms folded with a smug air as he watches Afif and his Entourage of folks masquerading as combatants.

Afif squirms under the intimidating aura of both Al Haitham and Wriothesley and attempts to shift the blame, trying to implicate Aniya for supposedly intending to mislead him in the trade, alleging that she was dishonest about her products, as is often the case in trade within Sumeru lately. In this instance, it was not. Aniya's honesty mirrored her ambition to rise as a respected merchant, firm and true.

Afif's initial efforts were futile, and as he came to this realization, fear gradually morphed into anger.

"I don't owe any of you an explanation, this is between me and that deceitful merchant wench" He spat, instructing his mercenaries to seize Aniya. However, their unscrupulous nature led them to reach for you as well, a decision that likely proved to be their gravest mistake.

Standing beside you, Wriothesley, under the Scribe's approving gaze, shrugged and uncrossed his arms, rolling his shoulders back as the mercenaries lunged forward with snarls.

He was mindful of the limited space and wary of endangering you or Aniya and therefore employed small, sharp, and precise movements. He swiftly evaded a punch from the towering mercenary, causing him to stumble forward in the aftermath of his failed attack. In that fleeting moment, Wriothesley seized the flailing arm of his adversary and firmly clamped his other hand onto his shoulder, twisting it behind his back and rendering him effectively immobilized.

With a vigorous push, he forced the vanquished mercenary to his knees, a disgruntled groan of pain echoed. Simultaneously, the second mercenary, driven by rage and fiery eyes, charged forward, only to be skillfully tripped and sent tumbling to the ground, nursing a bruised ego.

Wriothesley applied the weight of his sturdy boot on the back of the second assailant, forcing his face into the ground. Meanwhile, the first attacker was restrained by his hair, ensuring both remained motionless and incapable of causing further trouble.

"Care to help?" He directed at Al Haitham, paying no mind to the third mercenary who tightly clenched his blade, casting nervous glances between Wriothesley, who effortlessly subdued his fellow mercenaries, his employer, and the aloof scribe who stood in front of you protectively.

The onlookers stared in astonishment at the unfolding scene. Aniya, her mouth agape in amazement, beheld the renowned Duke of Fontaine standing before her very eyes, and besides you, Al Haitham, the esteemed Acting Grand Sage of Sumeru, portrayed a grand demeanour, often misunderstood. She observed his protective stance in front of you and it brought a small smile to her face, recognizing the subtle expressions of love in those gestures. She watched them in awe despite feeling guilt for the entire situation being a result of her actions.

"You appear to be managing quite well without me" Al Haitham replied with a raised brow.

"Leaving me to do all the work, I see" Cracking his neck, Wriothesley awaited the concluding blow from the sole remaining mercenary.

"Classifying it as 'work' would be a stretch," Al Haitham emphasized, "Three mercenaries hardly pose a challenge for you, Your Grace."

Releasing the two mercenaries he held, both now unconscious, Wriothesley did so just as the final adversary staggered forward on unsteady legs. True to Al Haitham's assertion, Wriothesley effortlessly subdued the remaining threat by gripping the front of his shirt and hoisting him off the ground.

"I feel like I'm third wheeling," You remarked.

"Nonsense, Wriothesley just talks a lot" Al Haitham brushed aside, moving past you in the direction of Afif, narrowing the brief gap between them. With the situation now in check, the only task left was tending to Afif before you could all proceed on your way.

"I'm sensing a bit tension though" You teased, nonetheless.

"Really?" Pipes Wriothesley over his shoulder, "On a scale of 10, how good is our chemistry?"

"Can you not entertain this, Wriothesley" Al Haitham looks at you, "And no, there is nothing of the sort nor will there ever be"

"Why not?"

"I am perfectly content with the relationship I'm in," He says, and simultaneously, a metallic clinking sound captures your attention.

You glance towards the source of the sound and find yourself pleasantly surprised. Wriothesley notices the shift in your gaze and follows your line of sight. Al Haitham had grabbed the dangling pair of handcuffs on his hip, right under his nose, and placed them on Afif's hands, all while everyone's attention was absorbed in listening to your conversation rather than observing him.

"What the─" Wriothesley muttered, his eyes wandering to the metal restraints encircling the discourteous customer's wrists. A moment later, upon realization setting in, he checked his side, only to realize with surprise that it was indeed his handcuffs.

"Keep up" The smugness in Al Haithams voice could be heard even without looking at him.

"Well shit buddy, good luck trying to get those off" Wriothesley blinks, expression flat as he stares at his handcuffs knowing the only means of removing them lies in a key only accessible to him – a key that resided in the drawer of his cluttered desk all the way in Fontaine.

"So.." Wriothesley trails off looking around, "What do we do with them now?"

"Let's have them pay a visit to the General Mahamatra, I'm certain he'd know just what to do with you"

"This has no connection to the Akakemiya. I haven't breached any rules concerning it and therefore you have no right to detain me like this! It goes against my rights."

Wriothesley chuckled, bending eye level with Afif. "Your rights have just been revoked, Lord"

"I beg to differ. Would you like a detailed account of all your criminal activities?" Al Haitham undoubtedly possesses more knowledge than he let's on. He's not bluffing, and you wonder what kind of leverage your fiancé has on this insignificant Lord for him submit and cower so quickly.

Leaning in to whisper, he says, "Wouldn't want the Akademiya catching wind of your illicit knowledge exchanges, would we? Or perhaps General Mahamatra is already on the lookout for you, Khada'i. Your nose is in everyone's business, and because of that, I'll ensure you're buried. Now then," he pats his shoulder. Sweat accumulates on Afif's—rather, Khada'i's—face under the pressure of Al Haitham's words. "Sit quietly and await your end."

"You two are enjoying this" You shift your weight to your right leg, hand on your hip.

"Not in the slightest," Denies Al Haitham, while simultaneously, Wriothesley questions, "What gives you that impression?"

Shaking your head, you dismiss the two as the guards lead away the identity-deceiving lord into proper custody. You turn to Aniya once more, and she showers you with endless gratitude for your help and assistance. She expresses concern about what might have happened if you hadn't been there, especially with Afif sending his mercenaries after her, fearing what may have become of the situation then had you not stepped in. The recent situation had drained you entirely of your energy and though Aniya offered to repay you in any way she could, you politely declined, desiring only to be on your way and depart from the public eye, wanting nothing more than to be home with a cup of coffee and your bed.

☣ copyright @archonsabyss all rights reserved // do not copy; steal; plagiarize; reword or repost my works to any other platform! No translations!! All credits to original owners of characters/anime/pictures that are not my own!

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supertuna-sideblog · 2 months

Text

🍓Pairing: Dance Teacher!Jung Hoseok x F. Reader

🍓 Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

🍓 Word Count: 9.2k

🍓Warnings: negative self thought/talk, swearing, dirty talk, smut, kissing, heavy marking, fingering, unprotected sex, some degradation, requited pining (please let me know if I missed something)

🍓Summary: It's been a year since you started dancing at Hoseok's studio, in that time an easy friendship has bloomed between you both, and maybe a bit more on your part. But Hoseok's just a friend, and there couldn't possibly be more there, right?

🍓 Comments: From the first time I heard Hozier's Eat your young I knew I had to write something with J hope for it. So here we are! Please enjoy!

“5, 6, 7, 8–” his voice carries over the pounding bass that hums through your muscles and bones.

But you can’t think about his voice, you can’t think about anything. Right now you’re focused on the music on the next steps Hoseok planned in the routine. Not the way the sweat-soaked shirt clings to the muscles on his back as he moves from one energetic step to the next.

Your tongue, definitely, doesn’t slip out of your lips to trace along the bottom as your eyes watch a bead of sweat slide down the column of his throat to disappear beneath the collar of his shirt.

You’re focusing on the dance, on the way your body moves in time with the tempo, and how the riffs of the guitar send shivers down your spine when they harmonize just right with the bass. Making sure your hands stay on beat.

Shoes squeak against the polished hardwood. You risk a glance at the girl beside you. Her movements are effortless, fluid, and graceful. A bolt of jealousy heats through you, but your eyes close and you focus again on just you and the music. Hips swivel in time to the chorus. Hoseok’s voice calls out over the music, “final stretch, make it count!”

His favorite thing, to shout in the last measures of the song, the final encouraging push that gets everyone through the last grueling set of an hour long practice, because Hoseok loves to challenge his students and this one, an intermediate class, is no exception.

Your hips chant to the side as your eyes slide open to catch Hoseok’s last moves. Drawn to the way his hands go from fluttering in the air to caress his inner thigh.

Your breath hitches as for a second your mind stalls. Gaze memorizing the way, his lithe fingers trace along the muscle there up to the seam of his hip, where his hand cups a subtle bulge.

Before tracing up the line of his lean body, even in baggy sweats, he looks perfect. His shirt shows just enough skin to get your heart racing, the collar loose enough it’s slipped off his shoulder, the tender flesh stretched over his collarbone tempts you.

As your hungry ogling finishes its course and meets those intense brown eyes, you pale. Fuck, you’ve been caught.

You stumble on the last turn, but catch yourself just in time to face the right direction. Kae-in snickers behind you as heat blooms across your cheeks, and to the tips of your ears.

Thankfully, though no one else has caught your blunder. But pray that Hoseok hadn’t seen it... he didn’t make a comment.

Then again, the last time he’d caught you gawking at him during practice. He’d give you a cheeky wink before cackling at your dumb-struck expression.

The dance finishes with a quick pose. Your legs quiver for a moment, unsure if they can hold your weight. You pushed yourself today, and your body is feeling it everywhere.

Not the smartest move, considering you have your private studio session after this. Other dancers around you pant and huff, catching their own breath. The music cuts and Hoseok claps, along with everyone else.

You manage a weak clap with the others.

“Great work everyone!”

Hoseok's voice is energetically gleeful as he wanders over to the cabinet where the audio setup sits. Like he hasn't been dancing for 8 plus hours.

His fingers move effortlessly as he turns off the music. Shoulders rise and fall as he catches his breath. The sweat clinging to his golden skin making it to glow under the fluorescent studio lights.

“Amazing as always class, remember to practice for next week. We’ll have auditions for the spring recital and all that jazz. I hope to see all of you there!”

Everyone takes their time packing up. A gaggle of students having rushed Hoseok to ask about audition ideas. Most of them vying for the last few minutes of class, for his undivided attention.

He’s happy to converse with all of them, girls fawning over him, a few guys in there too. Eagerly asking for advice on their movements and audition ideas.

Which he happily responds with a critique that’s just the right amount of brutal and constructive.

You make it to your bag, a slight wobble in your step, manage a painful kneel, find your water bottle, and take some healthy swigs from the plastic container. Your throat is grateful for the cooling fluid.

Kae-in is beside you in a second, her hoodie already on. She’s put on the hood but left her ears out. She has that look on her face that tells you she saw the entire last measure debacle. Her eyes crinkled in a shit-eating grin as she grabbed her things to leave.

“So wanna go over your little stumble in the last steps?”

You level a glare at her, half tempted to throw your sweat-rag at her, but you resist. Rather, rubbing it along your neck and face, sighing softly as you dry yourself. While you loved dancing, you hated the sweat that came with it.

“I tripped, I do that all the time–” she snickers, leaning close enough that the others packing up don’t hear her.

“I saw the way you were eating him up, not that I don’t blame you–” now the sweat-rag comes out, as you shove the offending thing at her, Kae-in lets out a squeak falling on her butt.

You glare down at her. She has the audacity to pout, like she’s the victim of this!

“I was not, I tripped, and that is all you need to know,” you respond with a mocking pout of your own.

She gets back up and hits your shoulder. You turn to continue the fight sweat-rag at the ready, but she holds up her hands in mock defeat.

“It’s not like you're the first girl to do it, certainly not the last. I mean, look, he’s still being swarmed and I know he’s answered their questions 20 times.”

She smirks as she glances over to the far corner where Hoseok still stands with his gaggle, smiling and laughing.

“I didn’t–” she hushes you and winks.

“You didn’t look, I know, you’ll have plenty of time to do that in the next hour–” you clap a hand over her mouth.

“Kae-in, I love you, but you are a pain in the ass, you know that?”

She smiles that squinted eye smile that makes you laugh. You give her one back before standing, removing your hand from her mouth, taking another few drinks of your water before glancing at your phone.

A couple of messages, both from…Hoseok.

How the hell did he send the texts while dealing with all the questions? But you’re checking them before you think to stop yourself.

I’m undecided on food, stuck between bulgogi or jajangmyeon 😛…do you have a preference?

Also if you’ve already eaten no worries. :3

You can’t help the small smile that lifts the corner of your mouth.

“Ohhhh dinner and a show–”

“Kae-in, I swear if you don’t leave I’m shoving my sweat rag in your mouth and Jin Ho can help you fish it out,” she laughs as she skips just out of your reach.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep!”

She’s gone with the last few stragglers from class. The flock has left with Hobi, probably to get food. You type a quick reply.

I will love you forever if you get me some jajangmyeon <3

As you glance around the studio and check the windows to make sure everyone is gone your phone buzzes in response.

If I knew getting your love was that easy I’d have offered sooner ;)

His texts always make you laugh, and while some small, tiny, insignificant part of you hopes he’s actually flirting you know he isn’t.

He’s your teacher, and yes, you’d consider him a friend at this point. After all, you'd been coming to the studio for a little over a year.

You’d run into him hanging a flier at the local rec center and after a short conversation, he’d handed you a neon pink flier and given you a wide heart-shaped smile before going on his way.

You’d signed up the next week for a beginners class, needing another outlet besides working out on a treadmill.

It’d been a year, discovering a love for dancing you’d never known you had. Also…getting the last hour of the studio all to yourself for a private session didn't hurt.

Especially when Hoseok had offered it to you when you’d mentioned wanting more time to dance besides just doing group work.

“I think you have a talent, and I think if you went out for some competitions you’d surprise yourself,” you’d almost choked on your coffee when he’d mentioned competing. He’d laughed as you coughed.

Hoseok was kind, it was one of the many reasons you’d stayed on with dance, even after being so self conscious about everything. The way you moved for a start, in the beginning the beat just seemed out of reach.

It seemed like your brain would command your limbs to move and it would be just a step off from everyone else. You liked to joke, you had two left feet, but through Hoseok’s diligent, and patient work you’d bloomed…At least you’d like to think you have.

The buzz of your phone pulls you from your thoughts.

At the restaurant, jajangmyeon is gonna be a bit D:

You smile again at his use of emoticons. He texts like a teenager. But you’re quick to reply, so that you can work on your set.

No worries, you know how long I’m here till, also I’m not leaving till I get my promised food ;)

You stand taking your water to the front of the class, the mirrored wall reflects your tired self back at you. You don’t look too long, putting your water down to go to the stereo cabinet.

Phone in hand you find the aux cord, hooking up the device the speakers connect with a loud pop.

Getting into your music app you ponder on what to dance to first, it doesn’t take long before you’re settling on some low and slow music. The songs are just mixes, without vocals.

Just music and beats to focus on, rather than lyrics to muddle your mind, thinking about what steps would go best with them. A deep bass pounds through the amps, vibrating the room with their depths before the subtle electronic chords join the hum.

A cooldown from Hoseok’s fast-paced, hyped music is a welcome change your muscles need. Your movements are slow and languid, letting your body stretch into each move rather than a quick jab and jolt to the next.

You loved Hoseok’s dances.

They lit up something inside you, got your heart pumping. His dances were a mixture of a work out and sex as Kae-in loved to joke. Hoseok put everything into his routines and asked his students to do the same.

You tried hard not to think about all your recent classes with him, in the last few sessions when he’d done an observation he’d come so close to you, watching your every movement.

No matter how many times you’d danced in front of him you felt like a beginner all over again.

Could feel the way his eyes assessed every maneuver. How his hand was quick to correct a move. Quick to straighten your posture, his fingers lingering against the swell of your hip as he demonstrated how to move your hips in the choreo.

Your skin tingled from the touch, your cheeks warm at the thought, the wish that his fingers had stayed on your skin, that they’d moved lower.

You attempt to shake off the thoughts, trying to focus on your dance, matching your made-up choreo to the music. Your hands start at your hips, legs spread wide as you lower into a squat.

Palms cupping your thighs as you spread them for the imaginary audience, or just a singular audience member. A quick bounce and your back up hands trail up your body again, fingers card through your sweat-soaked hair.

Pulling the strands out of the messy bun, slipping the hairband onto your wrist.

You risk a glance to your form in the mirror, again a wave of insecurity takes over. Even as you try to avoid making eye contact. Rather just watching your body move in time with the bass, a roll of your hips that follows the line of your leg to the tips of your toes.

Your body is like water, let the music flow from it.

Another memory, when you first started dancing, and Hobi had started letting you use the last open hour of the studio.

The one-on-one time helped immensely, but also made everything so much worse. From Hobi’s unwavering attention, to his many assisting touches.

How easily he’d stop you during a session to maneuver you, how he’d demonstrate a move you just couldn’t get the hang of.

The heat from his hands all but burning through the loose clothing you wore normally to practice. How you refused to look him in the eye when he had you practice a move in the mirror.

Just watch yourself, that will help.

Sure you try watching yourself in the mirror–

I do it all the time.

You’d made the mistake of looking him in the eye at that moment, in the low green light of the background LEDs they were shadowed and intense.

The way you felt pinned and devoured in that moment, the tension rose and for a moment something stirred inside of you. Your knees shook, stomach swooping, mouth going dry.

The moment broke when Hobi’s lips pulled into his signature smile that didn’t reach his eyes. But that instance had you refusing to look him in the eye for a month.

The remembered conversation heats your cheeks as you try focusing on the last steps of your sultry choreo. Twisting your arms in a spin that ripples down through your body.

Muscles tense and release, the ache from the previous rehearsal is gone. Replaced by the heat of wanting to get started on another.

The song comes to a soft close and your cool down has done nothing to lessen the heat you feel beneath the oversized t-shirt you liked to wear to practice.

As you stretch you consider the time on the wall clock, the cool down took a couple of minutes. Hobi would still be out getting food. And you really hadn’t accomplished much in your session, besides frustrating yourself further.

You huff as your body throbs, in both exhaustion and restlessness.

Like it can’t settle on one feeling over the other, and that adds to your mounting frustration. Walking over to the soundbooth you stop the next track.

Phone in hand you pause over the playlist, not really sure what to dance to next. The usual playlist for you is slow and steady. It helps loosen you up after a hard class and sets you up to relax when you get home.

But tonight none of the songs on the playlist are calling to you, so you leave the usual and venture out into the ever changing mood of your music library. You don’t know what starts it, but there is a song you’ve had in mind for a while now. A few flicks of your thumb brings you to the album.

Another tap and flick, and there it sits. Eat Your Young by Hozier had taken vicious root in your mind ever since you’d heard the beginning scat. The sinful chord riffs and the melodic mournful husk of Hozier’s voice had awakened something, primal, in you.

The lyrics certainly hadn’t helped, the grit and grime to them. Hozier’s music hit all the places in your brain that you needed while dancing. And you just wanted to dance. Not focus on how you are dancing and certainly not focusing on someone else watching you dance.

“Let’s see if you can get me out of my head,” mumbled to yourself, setting the song on loop. You pause though considering the brightness of the dance studio, intent on getting the mood for this song.

Remember Hobi mentioning that sometimes all it takes is a change in lighting for inspiration to strike. This song called for something dark, something carnal.

Taking the remote you turn off the main lights, the fluorescent bulbs flicker off, and with another push of a button the LEDs glow to life.

Hobi was quite proud of his LEDs; he'd spent an entire weekend sticking them to every inch of the ceiling, making sure they were perfectly aligned so that the room would be filled with the glow of the multicolor lights. He’d left them on a cool blue, probably when he was setting up for class earlier. A few clicks and blue bleeds into a deep red.

Basking in the lights for a moment, your fingers toy with the hem of your oversized shirt wanting to just throw the thing off. Overheated from class, and relief seems like it’ll only come from losing the garment.

You consider for a moment, Hobi won’t be back for a bit. You get the dancing out of your system, and the heat off of your skin. Before you can talk yourself out of it you're shucking the sweat coated fabric off.

Your skin cries in relief as it’s exposed to the chill of the studio, in only your sports bra and loose sweats you let the music overtake you.

You let the first bangs of the drum move you, your shoulders jolting with the bass. Rolling into a leisure sway as Hozier's voice echoes in the small studio. The bass ripples through your body, you feel your heart matching its hypnotizing beat.

I’m starving, darling, let me put my lips to something

Let me wrap my teeth around the world

Your fingers trace the edge of your lips. You take a soft bite of your fingertip, before tracing it down your chin, throat, between your sport bra covered breasts to wrap around your abdomen where your hips sway in a lazy pattern.

Start carving, darling, I wanna smell the dinner cooking

Wanna feel the edge start burn

You keep more to the middle of the room, exploring the small space around you. Your legs widen their stance as you dip down from your waist dragging your clawed hands over your legs back up your body to your throat.

Honey, I wanna race you to the table

If you hesitate the gettin’ is gone

You close your eyes, just enjoying the movement of your body and the intensity of the song. As the violins pitch higher and their notes grow frantic your breath pants as you meet their dissonant call.

Get some

Pull up the ladder when the flood comes

Throw enough rope until their legs have swung

Seven new ways that you can eat your young

Moves become more turbulent but there is still that underlying calm and control to your dance. Hobi is about precision in his seemingly erratic movements, yours have a much less practiced feel to them, even as you lull from one move to the next.

You’re so close to losing focus, letting Hoizer’s honeyed voice wash over your mind, the tickle of his falsetto sending a shiver down your spine. So close to losing inhibition, be free of the cage that is your mind, just dancing, instead of judging and stalling.

But you stumble a move not hitting at the time you’d hoped it would, and then like a line of dominos one move then another starts to crumble your resolve.

You huff, eyes scrunching in frustration as you attempt the movement again, a simple move, you’ve done it a thousand times in class, but your muscles won’t obey and your hips feel off, like they’ve slipped out of joint for a moment. And again while your brain signals to your body to move, nothing listens.

You growl in annoyance, sweat dripping from your scalp, drops slithering their way down your neck, pooling uncomfortably in your bra. As you miss one beat then the next and now you’re behind in the music.

Left foot forward, sway your hip, let the movement flow from your hip to your knee to your ankle. But fail again as your joints lock and refuse to flow as they once did, your fingernails dig into the palm of your hands, wanting so badly for this stupid move to hit.

For muscles to relax and just get this dance done.

Hands settle easily on your hips, and everything halts, a soft gasp leaves you. Music fading to the background as all you can hear is a high pitched chime in your ears. Your hands come up out of reaction, nails dig into the soft flesh of his hands in a panic.

Hobi grunts softly at the sudden pain of your blunted nails in his skin. But the panic ebbs as you recognize those long fingers beneath your own. He wasn’t supposed to be back yet, you had time, your mind races.

“Come on,” his voice is soft in the shell of your ear, “you know this move.”

Hobi’s hands are solid as they keep your hips trapped between his palms. His thumbs settle just above the band of your sweats, the heat of him sparks across sensitive flesh. He maneuvers you with ease, rolling your left hip forward and letting the right follow.

The grip of his fingers as they press into the fat sends a shock of pleasure coiling up your spine.

“Yeah, just like that,” he mumbles again, his breath is warm as it fans over your ear, cheek and neck. Skin prickling as goosebumps rise in its wake. The smell of him overwhelms, the sweet spice of a cologne you can’t name.

You finally muster the courage to open your eyes. Glancing down at Hobi’s hands still there on your hips. The pounding of your heart fills your ears, as you look down then up. Meeting his eyes in the red glow, your breath hitches, and your gaze drops again.

“Oh no,” like lightning, he strikes, hand leaving your hip to grasp your chin between thumb and forefinger. His grip forces your face up, body tensing as he presses himself against you.

Your hand chases his grasping at his wrist. Your fingers find purchase on the multitude of bracelets there. Fingernail catching on the beads of a bracelet you know one of his younger students made for him.

“Hobi–”

The fabric of his t-shirt does little to defend against the heat of his body, the hard line of his chest contouring to the curves of your back. Your mind can’t ignore the way he so effortlessly molds into you. Two puzzle pieces connecting together so easily, but while your bodies contour so easily, you feel trapped beneath his steely gaze.

You refuse to look at him; you feel exposed, judged and assessed by those eyes.

“Look at me.”

The order is spoken low in his chest, feel the vibration of his voice against your shoulder blades. The tone makes you shiver, another bolt of warm pleasure strikes you. Warming your cheeks, and sending your mind reeling.

You follow his command slow, and unwilling, your heart beats against your ribcage, a wild indeterminable pattern. His fingers clench, digging into the soft skin of your cheeks. You wince a bit at the pain, but finally you meet his eyes again.

In the red light they look black, taking you in, those dark eyes burning a trail from your toes up your left leg, pausing at your hip, the hand there clenching for a moment. Thumb brushing along your skin above your hip bone sending a new wave of goosebumps along your skin.

Tracing the curve of your waist, pausing at the swell of your breasts, covered by your sports bra. Up to the dip of your collarbone, you watch as he leans forward his lips so close to your skin. His breath warm before he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.

A weak gasp leaves you as the touch of his lips sends a throb through you. A heat grows in your innards, muscles clench, breath hitching as he meets your gaze.

“Hobi, what–”

“No hiding from me tonight.”

Mouth agape as you struggle to find your voice, Hobi smiles. It’s a slow pull of lips over teeth, the glint in his eyes as he holds your gaze. His thumb rubs along the edge of your jaw.

The touch sparking a new sensation with every stroke against your skin, his breath warm over your cheek. You’re aware of every touch, every atom of him that’s against you beside you. You’re greedy for more.

“’m not hiding,” you finally mumble and he chuckles, another warm huff of breath over your skin, his lips brush against your neck.

“You’ve been hiding every class,” he mumbles as he presses closer, the hand on your hip sliding along the edge of your sweats, slipping from under your hand, though you don’t stop it, coming to a stop over your abdomen.

You swear your heart stops as you feel the heat of his palm just beneath your belly button. Fingertips toying at the hem of your sweats, so close to slipping beneath the fabric.

“Thinking I don’t know you’re watching my every move, where your eyes linger a bit too long.”

He chuckles into your neck the tip of his nose traces along the length of skin. His lips find your pulse and he laughs softly as you whine, distantly you catch that the song has looped. The deep bass starting again. “Not that I mind.”

“Who wouldn’t watch you,” a breathless retort as Hobi smiles, considering you in the mirror for a moment.

His eyes shine and then his smile turns sinister, his nuzzle pauses and then he’s biting your neck. A shriek of pain leaves you and you leap from his grip. He lets you get away, though by the clench of his fingers you sense he didn’t want to let you go that easily.

The distance helps, your mind clearing as you turn backing up into the studio mirror wall. Pressing yourself against the cool surface, fingers finding the bite mark on your neck. Pulse hammering against your fingertips.

The jolt of pain ebbs into a lingering throb. One that doesn’t help the pulse between your legs. It makes you want to tense your thighs to relieve the ache there.

Leveling a look at Hoseok trying to get your bearings. He’s quiet, those eyes shadowed by his long bangs, you see his jaw shift as he considers you. You're teetering on the edge of something. Backed up to the cliff's edge and you're not sure if you’re ready to plunge off.

“Hoseok–”

“If you don’t want this, I’ll stop.”

His voice is soft, beneath the croon of Hozier’s voice, for a moment he looks like the Hobi you’re used to. The one you can handle. The friend who is always eager to laugh, the one you fall into easy conversation with, the one you figured would never consider you like he is now.

“I–” your voice hitches, confusion clouding your mind as your fingers trace the mark of his teeth in your flesh.

You lean your head back, your head meets the mirror with a soft thud, the music swells again, eyes closed as you consider for a moment what continuing this means.

I won’t lie, if there’s something still to take

There is ground to break, whatever’s still to come

You don’t hear him move over the thrumming bass. He cages you in, his hands rest above your shoulders as he encompasses you. His breath is warm as it glides over your face.

Your eyes flutter open and take in the man before you. The chiseled perfection that is his face, the sharp jut of his chin, the soft rounded apples of his cheeks.

His lips, usually pulled in that sweet heart-shaped smile are drawn together in a firm line as those dark eyes watch you from under the curled mess that is his bangs. He’s still in his practice outfit, the same baggy t-shirt, and even baggier sweats. They overwhelm the lithe frame that you’ve so badly wanted a chance to see.

It makes you want to squirm away to avoid his gaze as you’ve always done, he leans down nose brushing against yours.

“Don’t hide away from me, I’m tired of trying to make you look.”

His voice is soft and your heart stutters. As you look at him, truly look at him. The longing in those dark eyes, the downturn of his lips. The little freckle on his cupid’s bow. You want him, hell you’ve wanted him since the day you took the neon pink flier from his painted fingers.

“Hoseok, I–I want you–”

It’s like you’ve opened the floodgates, he’s dropping down lips finding yours in the dim red glow of the lights. At first the kiss is soft, like he’s worried you’ll change your mind, pull away that you spoke before you could voice what you really wanted to say.

But no, you press into the kiss. Slot your lips against his with a fervor you haven’t felt for someone in years. Your fingers thread through the curled locks of his hair, pulling him closer.

He groans into your lips, tongue slipping out to trace the bottom, asking entrance which you easily grant. The way his tongue swirls into your mouth has you whining, knees locking as your mind thinks for a moment how that tongue would feel against your clit. Which gives a painful throb in response.

His tongue dances with your own, easily slipping along the appendage with ease, he chuckles as your tongue chases him as he pulls back. He presses closer, body molding to yours as you press back against the mirror.

He huffs softly into the curve of your neck, where he bit you only moments before. He chuckles and presses a kiss into the mark.

“Sorry, heard the lyrics and, well, I couldn’t help myself–”

Your fingers pull on his locks still trapped in their grip, the groan that leaves his chest makes you shiver. His eyes roll in their sockets as they look up at you, with his jaw dropping you whine seeing the tip of his tongue trace the path along his bottom lip.

“Hobi, please–”

“Please what?” He teases, his hands sliding down the mirror back to your hips where he presses you against the wall.

His thumbs sweep against the joint where hip and thigh meet. His mouth goes back to press kisses against your neck. Finding where you pulse beats and sucking another mark there.

You feel him smile against your skin as you whine, hands leaving his hair to grasp his shoulders. To move him to do something, because your cunt is empty and aching, and only getting words as his mouth makes new marks along your collarbone and neck. You need something more than just the teasing he’s giving you.

“Hobi–”

“Use your words baby, I need to hear what you want.”

His voice is a muttered groan against your throat as he kisses his way up to your ear. Taking the lobe between his teeth, he huffs a laugh as your nails dig impatiently into his shoulders.

“Want to feel you, need to feel you–fuck,” you don’t know what you want to say, though your hips pressing into the palms of his hands are an indication that you need friction.

He sucks on the shell of your ear, nipping the cartilage and smirking when you moan softly.

“Then be a good girl, and listen,” his voice is soft, and your eyes meet his as he pulls back. Hobi is gone, back is the Hoseok who makes every muscle in your body tremble after a hard dance practice. The one that makes you shiver. “Turn around, face the mirror.”

He pulls back, his warmth leaving your skin makes you tremble, but you’re quick to comply. Turning and pressing yourself to the mirror, hands level with your shoulders. Your legs spread shoulder width apart. You risk a glance up in the mirror.

Hoseok stands back observing you, eyes traveling down the exposed flesh of your back, eyes lingering on the curve of your hip, that disappears into the baggy expanse of your sweats. Before they drag back up and meet your gaze in the mirror. You’re quick to look away.

“Uh uh, no looking away tonight baby, eyes on me.”

You know he means it, the threat is clear in his voice, and all you want is for Hobi to touch you, to do something. So with reluctance your eyes come back up, meeting his gaze even as it makes you squirm.

“Good girl, listening so well.”

You preen at his praise, half tempted to spread your legs wider, but you resist as he returns to press against you. His lithe body molds, again so perfectly, into the curves of your own.

His hands find purchase on your hips, slipping forward to a stop over the ties of your sweats. His index finger curls the tie around toying with the simple knot.

Your gaze is still locked with Hoseok's in the mirror, watching his lips pull into another smirk as he leans forward pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Eyes never leaving yours as your hips press back into his, feeling the weight of a bulge between the globes of your ass. He lets out a grunt, grinding himself into you.

A breathy laugh leaves him.

“So eager, aren’t you?”

He whispers into your ear the hand not toying with your sweats, drifts higher. Fingers trace patterns along the curve of your waist stopping to tease the edge of your sports bra. The material is thin, you can’t stop the moan that leaves you as his finger traces up the swell of your breast.

The tip of his finger finding your nipple and swirling around the bud. He groans into your neck as he feels the flesh pebble beneath his touch. His lips and teeth attack your neck and shoulder. Marking the skin with nips, and then soothing the sting with his tongue and lips.

His hand gropes at your breast enjoying the softness of your flesh as it molds to his hand.

“Hoseok,” your voice is soft, a needy whine as your fingers flex against the mirror surface and your eyes watch his hands. Wanting so badly for him to loosen the tie, to slip beneath the waistband and delve lower.

“What baby?” He mumbles into your ear giving the lobe another nip which you gasp at the pain of, your hips press back and you smile as he moans into your hair the bulge growing as he toys with you. “What do you want?”

“Please, fuck, your fingers–” your plea is silenced by another bite, this one sinking into the meat of your shoulder. A wispy whine leaves you, and Hoseok soothes the mark with another kiss.

“What do you want, baby? Use your words.”

Another command and you obey.

“Need to feel your fingers on my cunt, or just fuck - in my cunt, please,” the noise he makes has your knees locking, fingers curling, nails scraping against glass.

It’s like lighting a match, his fingers yank the tie, the hem of your sweats sag, loose enough he’s able to slip under the fabric.

He cups your mound, the moan that leaves you is guttural, your body humming with need. Gasping as he cups you through your panties. The thin fabric soaked, his finger easily toying with your clit through the cotton barrier.

“Fuck, if I’d known you were this wet, wouldn’t have taken my time.”

He breaths into your ear, the tip of his finger swirling in indiscernible patterns around your clit. The friction is nice, but his touches are soft, delicate.

Not what you need even as you whine and attempt to grind into his hand. The hand at your breast teases and pinches your nipple. The pleasure and pain mingle in your mind. Your eyelids flutter closed as your fingers curl against the mirror.

“Eyes,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. Ever obedient you obey, eyes peeling open, finding his dark hazel gaze. Your innards stir, cunt clenching as you take in Hoseok’s appearance.

His hair is disheveled, the brown locks curling around his face, the bangs sweeping over his brow, giving him a shadowed look.

Darkening his eyes, sending another throb of need through you, as his intense gaze burns every inch of you.

His tongue flicks out every now and again wetting his bottom lip as he presses more kisses along the expanse of your shoulders. He leaves marks in his wake, the spots sting, but Hoseok is always quick to soothe them with a soft kiss or a kitten lick of his tongue.

You know you’ll be covered in his marks by the time he’s done. It makes your cunt flutter at the thought and you moan, pressing your forehead to the mirror.

You find Hoseok again, his gaze still locked onto yours. In the red glow of the lights he looks otherworldly, the shadows of his face almost black against the blood red of the highlights.

A demon you’d happily sell your soul to for nothing if only to gaze at his face a bit longer.

You're pulled out of your musings when Hoseok’s fingers with a quick flick push aside the barrier of your panties to finally touch your clit. The soft stroke of his finger along the neglected bud has you keening. The sudden spike of pleasure makes you jolt away from the sudden onslaught.

But Hoseok’s prepared for your retreat pressing you up against the mirror, he traps your hips with his own. The hand at your breast moves to grasp at your hip, pinning you to him. Huffing a laugh into the column of your throat giving the skin there another bite.

“No running away either,” he growls, his finger traces along the hood of your clit, before delving lower and pressing against the bud. The pleasure zaps through you, your cunt gushes, your knees quiver as you buck into his hand with another yelp of pleasure.

“Fuck, Hoseok–”

“Feel good?” He asks, watching his lips pull into a wicked smile as you mewl and pant against the mirror. Breath fogging over the smooth surface. The chill of it helps to alleviate some of the heat coming from both of you.

His pattern changes again, pressing again on your clit as your cunt throbs and your breath comes out in a quivering pant.

“Yes–fuck yes, feels so good–”

Hoseok presses more against you, rutting his hips into your ass, the hard length of his shaft nestled perfectly between the globes of your ass. He pants softly into your ear nuzzling another kiss into the corner of your jaw. Groaning as you press back into him meeting his every movement.

“Fuck baby, feel so good and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

You whine in reply as his fingers venture lower, the feeling of his finger slipping into your folds teasing your wet opening. He chuckles into your neck.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers and you feel his lips sucking another mark onto your neck. Another gush of slick and Hoseok groans.

“What do you want?”

“Please–”

“Words, baby, I need to hear you say it.”

“Need your fingers in me, please, please stop teasing–”

He doesn’t wait for your plea to finish thrusting one long finger into you, your plea dies with a soft whine. He starts a slow steady pace, your cunt fluttering around his finger.

Just when you think you’re used to the first finger he adds another, your hips grind into his hand and his hips. All of his focus on fucking you open with his fingers.

“F–fuck, so tight,” the whisper of his voice makes your cunt clench, the twitch of his cock against your ass makes you moan. Your eyes struggle to stay open, as Hoseok’s own bore into you, watching the way your jaw drops open your eyes roll back as the tip of his finger rubs just right against that spongy spot deep in your cunt again and again and again.

The heel of his palm grinds against your clit with every thrust.

“Fuck Hoseok, fuck your fingers feel so good–” You babble, every thrust of his fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The one you’ve been hanging on to for the last hour.

Hoseok presses closer, feeling the way your body tenses, the way your walls tighten around his fingers, and feels the warm slick dripping down his fingers, and your thighs, soaking your sweats.

“You gonna come, huh?”

He rasps against your ear pressing a kiss to the shell, the sounds of his voice makes your cunt flutter again. As his fingers thrust in again, he scissors the digits, there's a hint of pain cutting through the pleasure, but it only serves to push you closer.

As you gasp, fingers scramble against the mirrored wall. You whine, pressing desperately against him, he responds in kind, rutting his clothed cock against you harder.

“I’m so close, please,” your voice is a soft mewl as your hips grind desperately into his hand. Hoseok’s voice is breathless as he speeds up his hand. The wet noise of his fingers fucking you open mingle with the song still looping, again and again.

“Come for me,” he growls, fingers flexing into your hip, and his teeth find the meat of your shoulder again.

The sound of his command, the tension breaks, your body stills mouth dropping open in a silent cry as your body twitches. Cunt quivering around his fingers as he fucks you through your release. He groans, fingers slowing, the heel of his palm coming to rest against your oversensitive clit.

You let out a soft whine, as his palm grinds against you, fingers curling and rubbing against your walls. You pant, coming down from your high, finding Hoseok watching you in the mirror.

“Fuck, so pretty when you come.”

His praise makes you embarrassed, you go to hide from him again. The hand on your hip is quick grasping your chin and keeping you pinned beneath his gaze.

“No hiding,” his fingers flex against your neck. You shiver finding his dark gaze, those deep pits devouring you whole. As you greedily do the same.

“Hoseok,” you whisper his name, and he groans softly pressing into you. His fingers still buried in your cunt, the movement makes you gasp. Still sensitive from your first climax. “Hoseok, fuck me, need to feel you–”

He doesn’t let you finish, his fingers turn your head enough that he’s able to press a messy kiss to the corner of your lips. You follow his lead, pressing messy, needy kisses to his lips, wanting badly to reach more of him. But he only allows so much movement from your prone position against the mirror.

You jolt as his fingers slip from you, how empty your cunt feels without them. His hand leaves your neck, slipping down your back to grasp at the hem of your sweats, the other hand still wet with your slick goes to your other hip.

With a quick jerk your sweats and panties are pulled down, you gasp into Hoseok’s kiss as your cunt is exposed to the cool of the room. His foot slips between yours and with a soft nudge he coaxes your legs further apart.

You try to ignore that you can feel the slick clinging to your folds, and trails of it dripping down your thighs, you're still soaked and quivering for more.

Hoseok’s hands leave you for a moment, the soft rush of fabric, and then the heat of his cock settles between your ass cheeks again. He’s big and your eyes flutter at the thought of him filling you, Hoseok chuckles against your lips.

“What’s going on in that mind baby?”

You whine, pressing another messy kiss into his lips, as his hands find their way back to your hips, one slipping forward and finding your clit again to trace soft patterns into the bud.

“Need your cock, fuck, need it so bad Hoseok,” you gasp into his mouth, tongue slipping out to trace along his bottom lip, his own slips out to tangle with yours. He doesn’t reply, instead he maneuvers you both.

Backing up he pulls at your hips. Your front still pressed to the mirror, this new position forces your back to bow, and your legs spread, cunt all but on display for him.

Hoseok makes a noise low in his throat, a groan of appreciation as his hands wander over the curve of your ass, and his fingers toy again with your weeping folds. You whine and buck into his hands. Wanting so badly to be filled again.

Hoseok chuckles before sliding behind you again.

Your eyes flutter closed as you feel the head of his cock press between your folds. A sharp smack to your ass has you jolting, a pained grunt leaving you as your eyes snap open to glare at Hoseok, who gives you a wide smirk back.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Eyes. On. Me.”

He gives a smack to your ass, punctuating every word, your ass cheeks sting from his strikes, soft needy whimpers leave you. Hoseok groans as he feels more slick drip onto his cock.

“Gonna fuckin wreck you, baby,” he huffs and you nod, he presses in, the head of his cock stretches you like his fingers couldn’t.

A moan catches in your throat has he takes his time, fucking into you inch by slow inch. Feeling every quiver, throb and flutter of your cunt around him. Hoseok is panting above you as he finally bottoms out. He’s thick, his cock filling you deliciously full.

Your eyelids flutter, but you refuse to look away, watching as Hoseok’s jaw drops, the groan that leaves him as he fucks fully into you. The delicious sensations overwhelming him for a moment as your cunt clenches around him.

“Fuck, baby, fuck you feel so good,” he pauses, whether to let you adjust to him or to just feel you.

You don’t know, his fingers flex, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he presses himself into you.

“Fuck–wanted this for so long.”

His mumble has you jolting, but before you can ask him what he means, his hands grasp your hips, fingertips digging into soft fat, finding purchase as he pulls out. Slow again, you both groan as the wet sounds of your coupling fill the room.

Your cunt clenches around him, needing him to fill you again. He pulls out till only the head remains inside, before fucking back in. Faster now that you're used to him. The slap of his hips against your ass echoes in the practice room.

“Fuck, Hoseok, please, faster–need you to fuck me,” you beg him, tired of the foreplay. You need him to destroy your cunt. Need to feel that unhinged energy you’d witnessed so many times in class, been so close to tasting in the year you’d been dancing with him.

“Don’t have to tell me twice baby,” he growls, and it’s all he needs.

His grip tightens on your hips and his lips bare his teeth in a feral snarl as his hips set a fast, rough pace.

He fucks into you with the abandon you’ve seen him dance with.

Taking his lower lip between his teeth as he thrusts hard and fast. Jolting you against the mirror, Hoseok pants and grunts with every thrust.

“Fuck look at you,” he mutters, voice a panted growl as he fucks harder into you. The length of his cock fills you again and again. The head of his cock grinding just right against your soaked walls.

“Look so good up against the mirror creaming all over my cock, fuck knew you’d look so pretty getting fucked on my cock.”

His words has your cunt gushing, and you answer his praise with little mewls and moans as he fucks you stupid against the mirror. His cock strokes against every part of your cunt, as he fucks you full.

The slap of his hips against your ass punctuate between lulls in the music. Your skin glows with sweat, your back arches as you press your hips back to meet his thrusts.

Moaning, and crying as he fucks you. Hoseok answers your noises with grunts and growls of his own. Gasping when your cunt flutters around him, signaling you're close again. Hoseok wants to bring you there again, to watch your body give everything to him.

“You close baby?” He growls between thrusts as his fingernails bite halfmoon marks into your skin. The pain only serves to pull you deeper into pleasure.

“Yes, fuck, yes–I’m soclose–”

He leans over your form one arm wrapping around your waist, the other placing a hand above you on the mirror, and with another quick kiss to your shoulder he ups his pace. Fucking into you with a speed none of your previous partners had ever reached.

Your climax hits you suddenly, as his hips piston in and out of you, you come around his cock with a sudden broken cry. Your cunt convulsing around his cock as he fucks you through your second orgasm of the night, his hand slithers down between your legs finding your clit.

Rubbing the little bundle of nerves you keen.

“Fuck! Hoseok!” Your body writhes attempting to get away from the sudden onslaught of pleasure as he keeps pistoning into your abused cunt. The pleasure rises again suddenly as your knees lock, and Hoseok’s cock throbs in your still pulsing cunt.

He gasps, as your cum again, sudden and blinding, white flashing before your eyes as you writhe in the prison that is his body. Warmth drips down your legs, and onto his.

“Fuck–” Hoseok groans as his cock twitches in your cunt, the warmth of his release painting your walls. He buries himself inside of you, both of you softly moaning as you feel his come fill you.

Your body shudders as you both remain there, your legs quivering, the only thing keeping you up at the moment is Hoseok’s solid arm around your waist. Muscles screaming for rest. Your mind rebooting as you process what the fuck just happened.

Hoseok’s breath is warm as he remains hunched over you. His cock softening, as it weeps the last few drops of his release into you. When he pulls out you both gasp, you shiver as you feel the mixture of your releases leak from your abused cunt.

Hoseok pulls back from you.

There’s the rustle of fabric, Hoseok tucking himself back into his own sweats. You linger for a moment, your body unwilling to move just yet. Also, unwilling to look at Hoseok head on.

The sounds of his footsteps going to the cabinet. The bass of the song interrupted as he pauses your phone. He’s brought the original lights back on as the darkness behind your eyelids brightened.

You know you need to address whatever the hell just happened, but another part of you just wants to bury your head in the sand. Not think about this, maybe move to an entirely new town.

You jolt as you feel Hoseok’s hands on your sweats, pulling them up and covering you from the chill of the room. You don’t mind that your panties will be ruined…hell your sweats probably are too.

“Come on, you gotta open your eyes at some point.”

He speaks softly as he finishes getting your sweats back to their original position, you almost want to play dumb. You can keep your eyes closed as long as you want. But you also just want to get this over with.

Opening them you finally look at Hoseok in the mirror.

He’s watching you, though this time not like before. Those soft hazel eyes looking at you like he’s waiting for the worst to happen.

You blink before turning around to actually look at him, he’s standing a bit back from you. Hands twisting behind him, so different from the Hoseok you’d very much just enjoyed fucking moments before.

“Listen–”

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Hoseok shuts you up before you could even formulate a sentence. You blink at him, speaking before thinking.

“What do you mean you’ve–”

“Since I handed you the flier and you started coming to class.”

He looks guilty, like he just pressured you into something, for a second your mind stalls, because you are a grown adult and you wholeheartedly consented to what just happened.

You don’t think as you step forward to press a kiss to his mouth, one he is quick in reciprocating. His hands find their way back to your hips as his tongue swirls with yours. You pull back your mind going fuzzy again. Your cunt is already wet at the thought of another round.

“I wanted to do that too, but fuck Hobi, you could have been a bit more obvious–”

“Obvious!? I was all over you in class, my dances got a lot more risque when I knew you were watching.”

You jolt, blinking up at him with something akin to the surprise Pikachu face. Hobi can’t stop the sudden laugh at your expression. But you’re melting into his hands as his thumbs rub circles into your hip bones. Your fingers clutch onto his arms as you blink owl-like in your confusion.

“You…were?”

“Oh my gosh girl,” he laughs leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. “I was trying so hard for you to see me.”

“Hobi I see you, you’re all I see, your dancing, your laugh…everything.”

Both of you standing in the middle of the dancefloor. Just ruminating on what’s been spoken. His hands are warm, as he pulls you closer nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head. Your arms wrap around his waist.

“So…where do we go from here?” You mumble into the warmth of his chest.

He smells wonderful, the musk of his sweat mixed with the heady spice of his cologne. You would stay here forever if you could. You sense he’s about to answer, but the loud gurgle of your stomach interrupts.

The laugh that leaves both of you echoes in the dance studio. You look up and meet those hazel eyes again, as he shoots you a wide heart-shaped smile and gives you a soft peck on the forehead.

“Let’s eat first and then we can figure out the heavy stuff, though I recall you stating your undying love to me if I got you jajangmyeon.”

His smile somehow widens as you laugh, fully intent on showing him how appreciative you are for the jajangmyeon, and for everything else.

#hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #j hope x reader #j hope x you #jung hoseok smut #j hope smut #j hope #bts fanfic #j hope imagine #jung hoseok #bts x reader #jhope #j hope bts #bangtan jhope #jhope fanfic

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soulessjourney · 14 days

Text

Let The World Burn - Chapter 2

Paring: Azriel x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: You're one in a million, Azriel had never encountered someone so different from himself, someone more powerful, even rivaling Rhysand in ability. When you appeared in the Night Court one evening, covered in dirt and dried blood, something about you seemed distinctly unique. It wasn't just the fire that scorched the ground beneath you or the red hue of your eyes burning into his skin. No, it was the shadows that swarmed around you, harmonizing with his own, drawing them closer to you.

Warnings: Violence, Language, Near character death, Talk of killing, Angst, Hurt and comfort, hurt no comfort, reader is an angry strong female reader, lots of miscommuication, fluff, More to be added

You weren’t sure what kept you here for the past four months, but it had become some sort of sanctuary for you. After about a month, your name came back to you, along with bits and pieces of your life. The biggest mystery in your life was exactly how you ended up outside of the Night Court, and how you had acquired the little shadows that thrived on the drama within the house. Despite that setback, the Inner Circle was more than welcoming. Feyre and her sisters aided you in any way possible. You and Nesta had started a small book club with the Valkyries, and Elain helped you find comfort in gardening. Cassian made it his personal goal to take on the role of an older brother, coddling you, and Rhysand acted as a therapist of sorts, listening to your worries. You and Rhys had grown close as he worked with you on getting your memories back. Something you admired about him was how patient he was with you.

At month two, Cassian had convinced you to join the Valkyries in training. Those moments were the best of your life as you had grown close to the girls, who understood the pain and confusion that you went through. As much as you loved training, the one thing you dreaded the most was sparring. You were never paired with Nesta or Gwyn; instead, Azriel made it his goal to challenge you. He pushed you to new lengths, discovering what made you tick and using it against you.

That’s where you were at this point in time. Circling the ring as Azriel watched your every move, Cassian coaching you from the side. “Keep your hands up, Y/N; any opening is trouble,” he says gently, causing you to nod as you bring your fists up in front of your face. “Good, now tell me what you see; we’ve worked on this.”

Inhaling, you let your eyes wander over Azriel in an attempt to note any openings or weaknesses. As you continue to circle him, you think back to the injury he received after training with Cassian. Although it was most likely healed by now, he had to have been tender. Looking down at his knee, you spot the slight limp. Glancing up at him, a small smile works its way onto your face. Throwing your leg out, you aim for his knee, hitting the mark. A satisfied sigh leaves your mouth as you watch him stumble. “Now, tell me why you chose to hit there,” Cassian calls out.

“It was an easy opening. He wasn’t centering his weight evenly through both legs, meaning landing a hit on his weak point could open up another possible hit,” you explain. Cassian laughs in agreement and claps his hands.

“Spoken like a true student of mine,” he gloats, a wide smile spreading across his lips. You match his smile only for it to drop when something hard collides against the side of your face, causing your head to snap to the side. “Azriel, what the hell was that!” Cassian yells, moving towards the ring only to stop when you hold your hand up.

You could feel the blood begin to pool in your mouth, and you spit it out on the ground just outside of the ring. “What is your issue, you overgrown bat? This is a training exercise, not an actual match,” you snap, turning to face Azriel fully.

Azriel rolls his shoulders back and keeps his gaze locked on you. “Well, a new lesson learned: don’t take your eyes off of me. In a battle, they won’t just sit there and wait for you to finish talking to Cassian,” he says, sending another jab towards you, causing you to shuffle back, hitting the edge of the ring. You could feel your shadows start to vibrate against your skin, but you reel them back in, refusing to let them do your bidding. “What? Cassian isn’t sitting there telling you how to fight so you can’t defend yourself?” He taunts, landing a swift kick into your side.

Cassian clenches his jaw as he bites back a growl. “Azriel, we’re meant to be teaching her the basics, not cornering her and expecting her to fight back,” he snaps, taking a step closer. You had never seen pure rage on Azriel until now. The look he sent Cassian stopped him in his tracks.

“She’s learning, isn’t she?” He snaps, turning his gaze back on you. “Come on, fight back. I know that you know how to. Stop hiding behind this act of yours and take me on.” Your chest begins to heave as you try to dodge the multiple jabs and kicks he sends your way. Spinning on your heel, you aim for his shoulder in hopes of knocking him off balance.

You saw it before you ever even felt it. It felt like it all happened in slow motion as his fist connected with your ribs, a defined crack echoing around you, and his foot came up to press against your stomach before launching you backward, hitting the pole behind you. The vibration of your teeth chattering together felt as if it would split your skull open. The ringing in your ears caused you to grunt as your vision blurred, catching a glimpse of the screams and yells directed towards Azriel.

A cool essence spreads over your body as you lay there, your back pressed against the pole. Then your body feels like it’s on fire, the heat overwhelming. Your shadows whisper in your ear, cheering you on once your vision clears. You couldn’t get Azriel’s smug look out of your head and something about that made you snap. You felt the burning sensation pool at your fingertips just before you let out a loud scream, launching for Azriel, your shadows shooting out to battle his own, pushing him back. You weren’t sure how you did it, but you landed jab after jab against his side and back, your skin burning holes into his leathers. It wasn’t until you had him pinned against the ground that you drew your hand back, a ball of fire appearing in it. You missed how his eyes widened in horror at the sight of the flame; at that moment, you wouldn’t have cared. All you wanted to do was hurt him; you wanted to destroy him.

Before anything could happen, you felt arms wrap around you before a pained yell sounded, drawing you back to reality. You were back against the ground, Cassian off to the side clutching his arm and Azriel frozen to the spot where you had him pinned. Your eyes widen as you shift closer to Cassian, freezing as he flinches at your movement. “I’m sorry,” you whisper quietly, emotions wracking your body. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened; I didn’t mean to.”

Cassian stands slowly, Nesta running up beside him as she watches you. When Cassian takes a step towards you, you take a step back. “Y/N, it’s okay; I know you didn’t mean to,” he says, reaching out toward you. With another shake of your head, you turn on your heel and book back inside.

---

Your bedroom felt a lot colder than usual. You weren’t sure if it was because your skin was cooling off or if it was the guilt that was eating you alive. You sat on the bench placed under the window, your eyes trained on the city below. You hadn’t lashed out like that before, not since waking up in the woods. Those violent thoughts that plagued your mind just moments ago made you a complete stranger to yourself. As your door slowly opened, you turned your head to come face to face with Nesta and Mor. “I know what I did, I don’t need a reminder,” you mumbled, turning back towards the window.

Nesta placed herself down next to you and grabbed your hand gently. “I’m not here to yell at you; we all know it was an accident. Cassian knew what he was doing,” she said gently, drawing your attention back towards her.

Mor placed a hand on your shoulder with a wide smile. “If we’re being honest, we’ve never seen anyone take Azriel on like that, nor have we seen him actually scared. If I’m being completely honest, it was kind of hot,” she hummed, pulling a laugh from Nesta. It was no secret that the three of you would shamelessly flirt with one another, although it was more friendly than romantic; Cassian often complained that it was as if Nesta was more your mate than his.

Your smile faded as you cleared your throat. “That’s the thing, I don’t want people to fear me. I snapped and I could’ve killed Azriel. I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it, but I took it too far for myself. I don’t even know what my abilities are capable of, and I’m scared that if I lash out again, I’ll actually hurt one of you.” Nesta’s eyes softened as she grabbed your face gently, her eyes searching yours.

“You won’t hurt us, not on purpose. We’re still trying to figure out your memories, and your newfound abilities are a question too, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to stop helping you. If anything, Rhys and the others are more determined to help,” she spoke softly, caressing your cheek with her thumbs. She was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “Why don’t you come train with the Valkyries this weekend? Cassian is taking us to the mountains where we can do more intense training. Cassian wanted to extend the invitation, but he didn’t want to crowd you after earlier. I also think it would be good for you to get away from here and take a break from this room.” If there was one thing about Nesta, it was how quickly she took on that sisterly role when it came to you.

Nodding your head, you looked to Mor, who only gave you a supportive nod. “Nesta’s right. Besides the occasional journey into Velaris, you’ve been cooped up in here for the past four months. Maybe this getaway will help in some way.”

Running your hands over your legs, you nodded quickly and stood as you moved around your room to pack your bags. “So, how angry is Azriel that I just attempted to burn his face off?” You asked suddenly, drawing a loud laugh from Mor, causing a smile to spread across your face.

“Oh, he was livid. You should’ve heard the rant he went on while Cassian bandaged his arms. I’m pretty sure his head was about to explode. It’s quite amusing honestly, seeing how much you get under his skin. Rhysand and I used to test his limits to find what makes him tick, but he was always so composed,” she hummed, picking at her nails. “Azriel is a strange one, yes, but I just cannot grasp why he dislikes you so much.”

You shrugged as you packed some training leathers into your bag along with some ointment for any soreness you’re sure to feel. “I’m not sure either. For whatever reason, he’s under the impression that I actually remember my entire life and I’m playing you all. Rhys even tried to tell him that any memory that I have is locked away tight. Do I feel like there’s a reason as to why I’m here? Yes, but even that keeps me up all night trying to remember even the smallest detail.”

Nesta hummed in acknowledgment as she set herself on your bed. “Maybe the training will help open some doors. Cassian wants to find what makes you tick so we can learn how to work with those abilities of yours, shadows included. This is why he opted for the mountains so that way if you decided to level anything, at least it’s the forest,” she shrugged, placing a few of your daggers into the bag.

Once you finished, you looked between them and smiled. “I think I’m ready; I agree that this is what’s best for me,” you said softly, turning as Cassian threw your bedroom door open, a wide smile on his face. He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you into a hug.

“I knew you’d come. Before we leave, Rhys wants to discuss some matters with you, so why don’t you go down there, and we’ll meet you in the living room when you’re done,” he set you down and slung your bag over his shoulder. Nodding towards the door, he motioned for you to leave, and you did, just after you gave Nesta a nervous smile.

---

The chair you sat in was uncomfortable as you endured Rhysand's gaze. He sat across from you with his hands folded and elbows resting on the desk, his eyes fixed on you, waiting for you to make a run for it. The soft tick of the clock caught your attention before he cleared his throat. “I heard about what happened during training,” he started. You opened your mouth to argue but shut it when he raised his hand. “I’m not mad; Azriel went too far today, and honestly, he needed that reality check.” You let out a relieved sigh and relaxed, the chair suddenly becoming much more comfortable.

“What I wanted to talk to you about is work. You’ve been here for four months, and we’re nearing month five. I wanted to offer you a position in my court. You communicate well with others, and you’ve done a lot to assist me with the issues we face in the court. I want to take you on as an emissary for the Night Court. I have every reason to believe that you’ll do well,” he said, not missing the flash of surprise in your eyes.

“An emissary? But why?” You couldn’t help but ask the question. The offer alone was shocking to you. Sure, you wanted a place in Rhysand’s court, but a position like that was too important and easy for you to screw up if you, for some reason, decided to snap like you did earlier today.

“Because you deserve it. You help me with paperwork, and you have a ton of great ideas. We’re nearing the season where I’m needed, but I can’t be everywhere at once. Having you by my side during meetings would make things easier. You have ideas that can make life easier among the courts, or methods to help areas that are struggling. I need those ideas there with me. Now that I have a family, I can’t always be in different courts to meet with them, and that’s where I need you. I can’t send Cassian since he destroyed a building in Summer. I trust you, and I know you question that a lot, but I know you can handle it. You don’t need to agree now, but think about it while you’re away for the weekend, and when you get back, you can tell me your decision then,” he said, keeping his violet eyes trained on you.

You shifted in the seat as you thought over his words. You knew the other hidden reasons behind his words, and you couldn’t blame him. You knew this could be a way to trigger memories for you when you visit courts. It was also a way for you to get away from the townhouse and the House of Wind. It would open an opportunity to prove yourself more to the Inner Circle, to prove that you can help them. Sucking in a deep breath, you nodded. “Okay, I’ll tell you my decision after we get back.”

Rhysand nodded and stood, motioning to the door. “You may go. Just keep in mind you are the only one who knows that I’m offering this to you. I haven’t told the Inner Circle, so keep my trust in you in mind when determining your decision.” As you stood, you gave him a small bow of your head in thanks before walking out of the room towards the living room. As you entered, Cassian and Nesta stood, their eyes shining.

Cassian smiled down at you, and Nesta looped her arm through yours. “Let’s go,” he said as he began to walk beside you and Nesta. Noticing your silence, he frowned and looked at you. “Are you alright?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

Nodding, you gave him a reassuring smile and hugged Nesta’s arm closer to you. “Yeah, let’s go.” Cassian gave you a hesitant nod and led you out the door. Your mind was busy with thoughts about the conversation with Rhysand moments ago, but you couldn’t shake the strange feeling that gnawed at you. You couldn’t ignore the darkness that clawed at you from deep within, a darkness you accidentally woke.

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