#smut pile collab | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sluttywonwoo · 1 year

Text

no nut november — bang chan (loser #5)

pairing: bang christopher chan x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (18+), fingering, unprotected sex, suggested choking, one (1) bite

a/n: part of @gimmeurtmi and i’s collab <3

word count: 3.2k

series masterlist

You’re fine with the No Nut November thing, Chan thinks. That’s what you told him when he explained the whole thing to you at the beginning of the month. You’d thought it was dumb, of course, but you were supportive as always.

The only thing is, you haven’t been around much since the start of the month. Chan isn’t sure if you’re trying to give him space so that he can win his little bet, or if you’re more upset about it than you’d initially let on.

He waits for you to come to him and when you don’t, he takes matters into his own hands and seeks you out first.

It’s the eighteenth, a little over two weeks into the bet, when brings it up again. He’s at your place for your weekly date night, one you’d almost tried to skip out on by telling him you had work to do for your graduate program with finals coming up. You’d texted him a couple of hours before he was scheduled to come over saying that your homework was really starting to pile up and that you didn’t think you’d be able to finish it all before your date, but Chan had assured you that the two of you could just turn it into a study date. He hadn’t seen you in practically a week, after all.

But when he arrives at your apartment that afternoon, your study materials are packed away, all traces of schoolwork minimized down to your laptop resting on the coffee table, the browser not even open to your University’s site.

Chan toes off his shoes by the door and drops his backpack there with them, making his way into your apartment in search of you.

He could already see from where he was standing in the doorway that you’re not in the living room. You’re not in the kitchen either.

“Babe?” Chan calls, peering his head around the corner of the hall to your bedroom. Your door is closed, which is odd. You usually leave it open. Chan calls your name again and this time you answer, telling him you’ll be right out.

You appear from your room moments later, a little out of breath and flushed with heat. Wisps of your hair are sticking to your face and neck with what looks to be sweat.

“Are you okay?” he asks, taking you by the shoulders to give you a once over.

“Fine,” you say, not all that convincingly, but brush him off before he can get a chance to press you further.

You move into the living room together and settle on opposite sides of the couch. Chan goes to grab his laptop from his backpack while you turn on the TV and look for something to put on in the background.

Once you’ve picked something, he tries to zone in on the song he’s been working on but then he notices that you aren’t working like you said you would be and can’t ignore the concern lingering in the back of his mind.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not feeling sick or anything?”

“I’m fine, Chris,” you insist and try to put him at ease by scooting closer to him on the sofa and laying your hand over his.

“I thought you had a lot of work to do, though. You shouldn’t put it off. You know it’ll only stress you out more if you do.”

“I actually managed to finish it all,” you murmur, not looking away from the screen.

“Wait, really?”

You nod. “Mhm.”

“That’s great, baby!” he exclaims and tosses his laptop to the side to grab you and kiss you on the forehead. He can’t stop himself from embracing you in a full-body hug, laying you back on the cushions and holding himself over you so that he can pepper kisses all over your face. “I’m so proud of you!”

You don’t respond right away, eyes wide and body frozen beneath him. He realizes the position he has you in a moment later and straightens back up with an awkward clearing of his throat, discreetly readjusting himself in his sweats in the process.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say, going right back to the topic at hand like nothing had happened. “And I mean, I still have my tests and presentations to do, which is enough stress in itself.”

“I bet,” Chan agrees. “But still! It must be a huge relief to have the rest of it done.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“You don’t sound so sure. You know you can tell me the truth right? If something’s bothering you?”

“I know, Chris-”

He cuts you off, he can’t help it. “Is it the bet? If it’s the bet, I’ll forfeit. You know it isn’t the end of the world, right? If it’s making you unhappy...” he trails off.

You smile gently at him. “I know. And of course I miss sex with you, but I want you to win. I just.... haven't been sleeping well lately.”

He frowns and pulls you to his side. “Oh I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s whatever,” you sigh, leaning into his shoulder.

“Maybe you’ll sleep better tonight since I’m here? I can play with your hair the way you like.”

You sit up suddenly and turn to face your boyfriend. “You’re sleeping over?”

It’s Chan’s turn to be confused. “Uh yeah, unless you don’t want me to? I always stay the night on Sundays.”

“I know, I just wasn’t sure if that was still the plan with the whole No Nut November thing still happening.”

He pretends to be offended. “You think I won’t be able to last a night sleeping next to you?”

“You didn’t come over last week!”

“That’s because I agreed to go to the gym after work with Changbin. I told you that.”

You grin. “I thought it was just an excuse since you’re really... pent up you might have wanted to reduce the risk of any... accidents.”

“You don’t think I can control myself?” Chan scoffs.

“I just think you’re pussy whipped.”

“Fine, maybe you’ve got me there,” he concedes with a chuckle. “But I think I’ll be okay for one night.”

Chan’s able to get a little bit of work done but since you don’t have any of your own to do anymore, he puts his computer away halfway through the night so that he can spend the rest of the time with you.

When it’s time to get ready for bed, you shower separately, you first and then Chan. Normally you’d shower together... to save time and water and all that, but Chan didn’t want to make it any harder (literally and metaphorically) than it already had to be.

He falls asleep right away, after playing with your hair for a bit as promised. Despite his insomnia he always finds it quite easy to drift off at your place. He’s not sure if it’s your mattress or simply your presence, but it’s hands down the best sleep he ever gets and all of his members have tried to get him to spend more nights at your apartment because of it.

He doesn’t because he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome. He’s your boyfriend, sure, but you’re just as busy as he is with school and projects. Besides, the routine the two of you have now works and he doesn’t want to mess with it.

It’s the middle of the night when you wake him up. He isn’t sure what time it is exactly, but he can tell from the darkness of your room that it’s still hours from morning. You don’t mean to wake him up either. You’re just tossing and turning and happen to create enough movement that it wakes Chan in the process.

“Baby?” he rasps, feeling for you over the sheets. “What time is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” It’s a lie, he can hear it in your voice. “Go back to sleep, Chris.”

He rolls over onto his side, trying to blink your figure into focus. His eyes still need to adjust so all he can make out are the soft edges of your curves under the blankets but he can tell you’re facing away from him.

“No, talk to me,” he insists, finally finding your hand and squeezing it. “Still can’t sleep?”

“No,” you sigh, sounding defeated.

“What can I do to help? Want me to play with your hair some more? Rub your back?”

You whine and throw your arm over your face as if you’re embarrassed. “That’s sweet, but there’s nothing you can do for me.”

“What do you mean? There must be something.”

He gently pries your arm away from your face so that he can look into your eyes. He’s still half asleep, still can’t see more than a few inches in front of him, but your eyes reflect the tiny bit of light that is in the room, moonlight that had managed to slip in through a gap in the curtains.

“Look at me,” he whispers. You do, but your expression is hard to read. “Tell me.”

“I- it’s just the stress, you know? It’s been keeping me up and I can’t... I can’t manage to relieve it.”

Chan nods in understanding. He knows exactly how you feel. He’s come to you with this same problem many, many times, and you always help him out. Sometimes he just needs someone to listen, sometimes he needs to work it out through exercise, and sometimes- oh. It clicks.

“Do you need to get fucked?”A whimper from your side of the bed is all he needs to know he’s hit the nail right on the head. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“You know why,” you groan.

“You know a bet isn’t as important as you, baby.”

“I know, but I want you to win!” you groan, voice dropping to a mumble when you say the next part. “And I figured I could just take care of it myself.”

“So why haven’t you? Is it because I’m here? Because you know I won’t care if you do- I mean I’ll find it hot of course, and probably get hard, no, I’ll definitely get hard, but I’ll be fine.”

“I’ve tried already. I’ve been trying for the last few days. For fuck’s sake I tried right before you came over and still didn’t work. It’s not the same, I guess.”

“Wait- right before I came over? Is that why you were so out of breath when I showed up? And is that why you told me you had so much homework- why you’ve been avoiding me in general?”

You nod and try to hide under the covers in embarrassment but Chan doesn’t let you. He holds the comforter tight in his fist so that you can’t pull it over your face, making you pout as he smirks at you.

“I wasn’t trying to avoid you,” you clarify. “I was trying to help. I knew I’d be needy when I saw you and I didn’t want to make it harder for you.”

Chan’s chest tightens as his heart practically melts at the revelation. You had been putting yourself through hell, doing all of this, for him? He has to fuck you now, if not for you, for his own selfish need to worship you.

“Oh baby, let me take care of you.”

“I can’t let you do that. Just... go back to sleep. I’ll figure something out.”

“No, come on. You need sleep,” your boyfriend reasons, inching closer to you. His fingers brush the hem of your sleep shorts and you flinch. “If I cum, I cum. It’s not the end of the world.”

“Chris...”

“I’m serious. Half of us have lost already so it’s not like I’m first or anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he assures you. “We’re wasting time I could be using to fuck you to sleep by going back and forth on this,” he adds.

“O-okay.”

Chan smiles. “Yeah?”

You nod, firmer this time. “Yeah.”

He’s beaming now as he rolls on top of you, kissing you on your forehead, your cheeks, your chin. You giggle and it’s like music to Chan’s ears. He presses his lips to yours just so he can feel the vibrations of your laughter against him. It tickles a little, making him laugh too as he works his hands up under his t-shirt you’d worn to bed.

He finds your nipples already hard, whether from the November chill or his own actions he’s unsure, but he liked to think it was the latter.

You moan and arch your back into his touch, rolling your hips to try and get some friction. Chan shifts so that he can push one of his thighs in between yours, giving you something to grind on as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

God, he’s missed the way you taste.

The shorts you’re wearing are practically useless. Chan can feel you soaking through them already, which is ironic since you’d worn them for his benefit. You don’t usually wear pants to bed at all. It was just another one of the little things you did to help him get through the month unscathed. Even more reason for Chan to make you cum so hard you black out, in his opinion.

“Chris,” you moan, “Chan...”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Need you.”

And you’ll have him. You’ll have as much of him as you want, for as long as you want.

“Okay, angel. I just need to get us out of these clothes, alright?”

You cooperate as he undresses you both, sitting up so that he can get your shirt off and lifting your hips so he can pull your shorts and underwear down. Both are ruined, completely soaked through with your arousal, and Chan makes a mental note to toss them in the wash before he goes back to bed.

“Want my fingers first?” he asks breathlessly.

“I... don’t know.”

“No?”

“I want your dick but I might need your fingers to stretch me out.”

Chan hums thoughtfully. “I’ll be quick with them then, how about that?”

You agree, so Chan brings the hand that isn’t holding himself up to your lips and pushes two fingers into your mouth.

With how wet he knows you already are, you probably don’t need his fingers, but he always prefers to be safe than sorry. He doesn’t want to skip on it and end up hurting you. Besides, he enjoys pleasuring you no matter what the method is. He’d finger you for hours, rub your clit until you were shaking, eat you out until you begged him to stop if you’d let him, but tonight wasn’t about him.

Once he’s certain that you’re ready to take him, he checks in with you again, making you suck your wetness off of his fingers and asking you if you want him to wear a condom. You shake your head no, and wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to pull him closer.

“Just want you inside,” you urge.

Chan braces himself and then slips the head of his cock inside of you. It’s immediately overwhelming. He had made a promise to himself that he would try to last, just fuck you through your neediness and then take a cold shower, but now that he’s actually in you he’s not so sure that he’ll be able to hold off.

“More,” you beg, hands reaching out for your boyfriend.

“Just, just give me a second, baby,” he chokes out, closing his eyes so that he doesn’t have to see the blissed out look on your face.

Fuck, he’s weaker than he thought. Not even halfway in and he’s already close to cumming.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I just had to, uh, take a moment to focus.”

He’s able to push the rest of his cock into you in the next breath, but as soon as he does he has to freeze in place, convinced that if he moves even a millimeter it’ll be game over for him. He can tell you’re trying not to clench around him, which he appreciates, but with the effort it takes to control that, your cunt still flutters unintentionally. It’s torture. Sweet, sweet torture.

Somehow, Chan eventually builds up enough confidence to move. He starts slow, mostly for his own sake, and works up to a steady pace. It’s still not what you need but you seem to be enjoying it nonetheless.

You moan and chant his name, holding on to his biceps as he drives his dick into you over and over and over again.

“Such a good girl, letting me take care of her,” Chan praises, letting his fingers rest against your throat.

“God, Chris, yes!”

“You like that?”

“Fuck yes,” you sob. “Can you... are you able to go faster?”

Chan gulps, unsure. But he knows you need it. You need to sleep. You need to be fucked, not made love to. He promised he’d give you what you needed. And Chan is a man of his word. So he snaps his hips into yours as fast as he can, trying to push down the pleasure he feels creeping up his spine.

He’s fighting a losing battle and he knows it but he’ll be damned if he stops now. Your face is scrunching up in the way that it does when you’re close and you’re whimpering quietly with every thrust.

“I’m- ‘m gonna cum,” you warn, reaching down to play with your clit.

Me too, Chan thinks. You’re so warm and wet that there’s no way he won’t when he feels you clamp down around him but he still holds on to the tiny sliver of hope that tells him he has enough self control to withstand it.

“Go on, baby. Make yourself cum for me,” he coos, suddenly aware of just how thick his accent sounds when he’s turned on. “Know you need it so bad, huh?”

You nod wildly. “Need it, baby, please.”

“So polite, even when you’re about to cum your brains out.”

You muffle a scream with your fist as you’re thrown over the edge, cumming hard underneath him. Chan curses, biting your shoulder to try and hold back, but it backfires on him and makes you clench even harder as you ride out your orgasm.

“Shit, shit, shit-”

Chan throws your clothes into the washing machine along with his, and the sheets he ruined, before climbing back into bed with you. To be fair, he’d cum inside of you- which should have prevented any mess from happening, but there was so much of it (two and a half weeks’ worth, to be precise) and he’d pulled out in a panic as soon as it happened that it had all leaked out before he could stop it. You’d gasped and looked up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, an apology on your lips.

“This isn’t your fault, babe.”

“But-”

“No, I’m the one who wanted to make you feel good. I knew the risks, remember?” You nod solemnly. “Think about it this way, we’ll get to spend the rest of the month fucking and rubbing it in the others’ faces.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, yawning.

Chan smiles. “Tired?”

You can barely keep your eyes open as you nod. “Mhm.”

“Good. But let's get you in the shower before we fall asleep, okay?”

He shoots the groupchat a text about his loss, but seeing as it’s the middle of the night, no one is up to respond. At least he’ll get a couple more hours of peace before the ridicule starts.

nnn tags: @doesthismeannothingtoyou @yellowroses-world @allyoops @thelostverse @karlitaburrito @lydataylorsversion @septemberkisses @caticorn61 @multifandomtrash-dree @cixrosie @mchslut @cutiequokka @fairygemss @multistancheck @lady—-boner @stay-bi @compersian @raspbinniecreme @skzgallll @strawberriesandknives @laylasbunbunny @goddessofhiddenpleasures @brit97 @jonaticdragon @linobuns @vampcharxter

#no nut november #no nut november skz #nnn skz #no nut november stray kids #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x female reader #christopher bang x reader #chan smut #chan x reader

4K notes · View notes

persphonesorchid · 2 years

Text

Auburn Skies - MYG

Summary: Everyone knows that if your best friend has a little sister, she's off limits. That, and the fact that your best friend will probably kill you if you even think about going near his sister. Yoongi knows this. There's no way he could tell Namjoon that once upon a time you kissed him, drunk in his living room after a break up. So much time's passed since then, too much time to bring it up now, but Yoongi still thinks about it, he's still a little hopeful. Now you're here at the lake house because Namjoon brought you and you clearly have something you want to say to Yoongi.

Namjoon's gonna kill him.

Genre: 18+, fluff, angst, humor.

Word count: 12k

Warning(s): 18+, smut, oral (m+f receiving) unprotected sex, porn is mentioned. Yoongi and Y/n are BOTH stupid and they need help. Taehyung's trying his best, Seokjin is also trying his best but subtler. Yoongi's convinced that Namjoon's out to get him at every turn. Slight jealousy. Y/n and Yoongi have no idea how to actually hold a conversation like adults, until they do.

Notes: My addition to the Autumn Leaves Collab, hosted by the beautiful @bangtansmauyeondan !! I had so much fun working on this, and I met so many beautiful people that I'm so grateful for, so happy to call my friends 🥺 I love y'all! Please check out the other authors' fics on the Collab Masterlist! Everyone worked so hard, give my girls some love! Shout out to @blog-name-idk and @xpeachesncream for being absolute aNGELS, beta reading and helping me out when I panicked over this lol, and @madbutgloriouspond for helping me brainstorm. I hope you guys enjoy!! Please leave feedback, I'm nothing but a poor soul seeking validation (and motivation!) to keep going.

If you like my content, please, consider donating if you're able - Here

"You're staring." Seokjin nudges Yoongi's arm with his, snapping him out of his daze. He catches Seokjin's smirk, and there's a twinkle in his eye that promises nothing good. Yoongi pulls his eyes away from your form, sitting in a chair on the dock away from everyone else with a book in your hand. You're bundled up in a thick sweater and cozy sweatpants, completely lost in your book.

"Was not." Yoongi feels the need to deny it, distracting himself with cutting up onions, focusing on the way the blade of the knife cuts through the vegetable and definitely not the way Seokjin was wiggling his eyebrows at him.

"Sure. I believe you."

Somewhere inside, there is music playing. A Lo-Fi beat that plays softly under the sound of rain. It's kind of sad, if Yoongi is being honest, but he supposes that autumn is a sad season. Nothing but changes all around. The leaves change colours, mixing like paint on an easel in the hands of a melancholy artist drowning in his own solitude. They shift and the vibrancy of summer fades until they die, falling off their homes to go drifting in the wind, or land on the ground to become everyone's problem.

He doesn't really like autumn, when winter is right around the corner and he can feel the cold seeping into his bones no matter how many layers he wears. Always leaving his cheeks and his nose red, and his fingers hurting when the chill gets to them.

You enjoy it though, even reminded him when he picked up you and Namjoon this morning. You were kicking at the pile of leaves in front of Namjoon's apartment complex like a kid, laughing like you didn't have a worry in the world. You greeted him like you hadn't seen him in years, running up to him with Namjoon's scarf wrapped awkwardly around your neck like you were in a rush.

Namjoon is currently skipping stones with Jungkook near the lake's edge, and Yoongi can see he's halfway to giving up because Jungkook is on his competitive streak again.

Namjoon is one of his closest friends. He met him in college when they were both fresh out of highschool and riding on shotgun dreams of being more than what they are. He remembers meeting you during spring break of his junior year, and you were blabbering about getting accepted into the same college as Namjoon; determined to follow your brother to the end of time.

The only word to describe your first meeting was awkward, to say the least. He'd only ever heard of you, with Namjoon going off about you whenever Yoongi lent his ear. His baby sister who was doing so well in school, his baby sister, who to Namjoon, practically hung the moon in the sky. Now, Yoongi thinks he's naturally awkward when meeting new people, he can't help it. Getting to know someone is hard no matter how much you hear about them, even though you've got a pretty good impression just by word of mouth. There were shy 'hi's' and the most soul crushing 'See you later's' when there's little to no chance of ever seeing that person again. Sweaty, nervous hands meeting in shakes and straight lipped smiles.

Now, Yoongi was sure he wasn't too bad at it. And you were good, smiling brightly, not looking as awkward as he felt. What was awkward was the way Namjoon had excused himself to his parent's kitchen, pretending to get a glass of water. Yoongi had followed him with his eyes, because why was he leaving him standing in front of his sister alone?

Yoongi still remembers the chill that went down his spine that morning, as Namjoon watched him dead in the eyes over your head. A look Yoongi had never once received from him before, one that simply said: "If you think anything about my sister that isn't innocent; you will die."

As a best friend, Yoongi respected that. As a man, Yoongi valued his life. He wouldn't dare. It's the code, do not, under any circumstances, think about your best friend's sister romantically or less. You were off limits from the day Namjoon showed Yoongi that picture of you.

Off limits.

Yoongi heard that loud and clear and Namjoon hadn't said a word that day.

You were off limits, still, when you'd called him at ass o'clock in the morning - not Namjoon, your brother who trusted with everything - about some smarmy asshole who thought it was funny to break your heart. When he picked you up outside a bar where you were supposed to meet your boyfriend of a year, standing in the rain, soaked to the bone, crying and slightly drunk.

Looking beautiful even when you had stumbled your way to his car, asking what did you do to deserve getting cheated on. He didn't answer you then, he had too much to say and it wasn't the time, not when you were drunk and wouldn't remember a thing when the sun came up. So he cranked up the heat in his car, and white knuckled the steering wheel the whole drive to his apartment, because yours was too far and it was late.

Off the whole damn table, when you'd kissed him on the mouth, still drunk, still crying and clinging onto him in his living room. He pushed you gently away, even as he licked his lips to chase the taste of you. Keeping the distance between you both wide as he watched you shatter like glass in his hold. You apologized through your sobs, and Yoongi's own heart broke as he tried and failed to pick up the pieces of yours scattered at your feet.

You asked him not to tell Namjoon, and Yoongi never said a damn word. You slept in his bed that night, in his clothes that were way too big for you, and left the next day like nothing happened.

You're still off limits now, even as you've grown up and are going into your senior year. Now that Yoongi finished college and had a job like a responsible adult, now his biggest worry is the price of bread climbing up and whatever the hell was on the news.

"Namjoon, we agreed that you weren't gonna come within 10ft of this space."

Yoongi looks up to find Namjoon wandering aimlessly towards them, holding a bowl of something in his hand. He stops dead in his tracks though, frowning, "I'm not that clumsy."

Yoongi and Seokjin share a look, before raising an eyebrow each at Namjoon. He sighs, lifting the bowl in his hand, "Hobi told me to tell you that Jungkook told him..."

"For Christ's sake..." Seokjin sighs, "Just get over here."

Namjoon grins like a kid, hobbling over to place the bowl next to Yoongi's busy hands. The bowl filled with slices of pork belly that Yoongi forgot he told Namjoon to fetch for him a long while ago. Too distracted to ask about it when he was skipping stones with Jungkook, he didn't even notice when he'd moved to get it.

He wonders what else he missed, lost in his own thoughts, and his eyes dart around to catch sight of you. Of course, you were no longer in the spot you'd claimed, now standing next to Jungkook. Both of you are laughing at Jimin, who was struggling to reach a branch of a tree that Jungkook could easily reach without stretching. You attempt it, jumping to reach, but you just don't make it and it's Jimin's turn to laugh, all crescent eyes and round cheeks.

At least someone's having fun.

Seokjin was mumbling something as he pokes at the coals in the grill, and Yoongi avoids looking at Namjoon because he realised he's staring again. He's awfully quiet, and Yoongi isn't sure if it's because of him, and he really doesn't want to risk his life here.

"'Autumn is the season that teaches us that change can be beautiful.'" Namjoon says, and Yoongi finds that he wasn't even looking his way. Instead, he was watching the lake with an odd look in his eyes, distant, like if he was thinking about something too hard and struggling to grasp it. At the same time though, he looked like he knew exactly what he was talking about; smiling to himself. He pats Yoongi cryptically on the back - a little forcefully - catching him off guard, and says nothing more as he walks away.

"We all know what it means when Joon starts quoting." Seokjin snickers, "You're so screwed."

Yoongi hums, and Seokjin gives him a knowing look, a look that says way more than what Yoongi is comfortable with, and he wonders, briefly, if he was being obvious, or if Seokjin was more observant than he gave him credit for.

"I hope the weather holds up." Seokjin mumbles, head tilted up and leaning slightly forward over the table to see past the awning above, he watches the sky with a small frown, "Said it was gonna rain sometime today."

Yoongi is grateful for the subject change, dumping the seasoning he chopped up into a bowl. He glances at the lake, at the reflection of the clouds on the water, they look a little gray with the promise of rain. He doesn't mind the rain, though, if it does, Taehyung's plan of sitting around the fire with marshmallows on a wire would be completely dashed.

Yoongi's not sure he could deal with the kid pouting all night because of it, and he hoped that the weather held up, too.

When lunch was ready, it was a little after two pm. The picnic table was clear of leaves that were raked to the side and into piles to deal with later. Hoseok finally crawled out of the bunk room, hair sticking up in odd angles and eyes sleepy still as he helped set the table with you and Jimin.

Yoongi walks over to the table with the small cooler he'd brought with him, packed full with ice and cans of beer, because what's lunch without it?

Seokjin walks behind, still prattling on about the weather, hoping for a little sunshine later on so he could get in the rowboat and swing his fishing rod around. He may have asked Yoongi if he wanted to come with him, but Yoongi was once again distracted; your soft laugh tunnelling his focus.

He sighs, internally, because God forbid anyone hears and starts asking invasive questions. Taehyung, of course, was clinging to you, not letting you move two spaces out of his orbit. Which of course, wasn't strange, Taehyung was just clingy that way; always stuck to someone like a kitten that hasn't yet learned to regulate its temperature.

The sight of it though, makes Yoongi's chest ache in a way that wasn't unfamiliar to him. The kind of ache that squeezes tight and knocks the air out of him, the ache he felt that night in his apartment living room when you kissed him. Thinking about it now makes the ache worse, because Yoongi knows what that kiss was, he knows what it meant and exactly where it came from. You were reeling that night, fresh out of a relationship that ended in a way you never saw coming, and that's where it came from. You were drunk, hurting, and attached yourself emotionally to the first person to treat you nicely.

It just happened to be Yoongi at the time.

He hates to think about it that way, as though it meant nothing when he wanted it to mean something. Yoongi likes to take things the way they came, there's nothing more than what it was, nothing to decipher or to sit and mull over. Not like he did that night, sitting up late on his couch, long after you'd passed out, then beating himself up about the whole thing because he was this close to laying his heart out at that moment.

He's glad he didn't. When you left the morning after, he wasn't even awake, woke up to his empty bed and quiet apartment. No note, no text - not that you owed him anything - so he left it as it was; unspoken.

He passes everyone a beer, avoiding your gaze when your hand brushes his, ignoring the soft smile on your lips that brightens your eyes and makes his chest hurt. He moves around the table and takes his seat in between Seokjin and Hoseok. He's sitting directly across from you, and to his rotten luck, Namjoon sits to your left, which puts Yoongi within his direct line of sight. He wonders if he'll be able to keep his eyes to himself, not get caught staring at you, even if your brother wasn't even paying him mind. Yoongi is cautious, still.

The chatter that fills the air is gentle, with laughs and catching up with each other. It was hard to find the time to do things like this, everyone was busy with their own schedules; the younger ones had school, the rest of them had work. Shit always get in the way.

Yoongi eyes Taehyung, who sits to your right and was poking at your arm more than he was eating. He had half a mind to tell Taehyung to quit it, the little devil on his shoulder telling him that he should; poking at his cheek and pointing. It isn't his place, though.

There's a twinkle in Taehyung's eye when their eyes meet, something mischievous that Yoongi would normally see from him when he was up to something. He turns slightly to you, whispering something to you with a hand covering the movement of his lips.

Yoongi's curious, he wonders what he's saying that makes your cheeks flush a pretty shade. Wonders what it is, when your eyes meet his for a second and you swat at Taehyung's hand. The younger man was clearly pleased with himself, smiling eyes meeting Yoongi's for a second too long, and Yoongi busies himself with stuffing his mouth with food.

"Think the water's cold?" Jungkook was looking out at the lake, doe eyes curious, his tongue absently fiddling with the ring in his lip.

"It's still early in the season..." Jimin answers, piling a spoonful of rice onto his plate, following Jungkook's gaze a moment after. "Wouldn't risk it though."

"I mean, you can if you want." Yoongi shrugs, "Just don't complain when you catch a cold."

Jungkook pouts, leaning his weight against Hoseok with a groan. Everyone knows Jungkook well enough to know that's exactly what he'd do, and then abuse his position as the youngest for the rest of their stay at the lake house.

The table was silent for a while, everyone occupied with stuffing their faces with the food, interrupted when Namjoon laughed at something Jimin said and choked on the rice in his mouth and is now nursing a bottle of water.

Yoongi missed this, just hanging out with his friends like they were back in college sneaking beer into the dorms and laughing over their drunken rambles. Just being.

Once lunch was over, they cleared the table of the bowls and plates, carrying everything inside to be washed up.

"I'll do the dishes," Hoseok says, balancing the large pot with plates and eating utensils in his hands.

"I'll do them, Hobi." Yoongi takes the pot from Hoseok's lax fingers, not giving him room to complain before he takes everything to the kitchen.

Yoongi misses the way Taehyung pokes your side, he did hear the smack of you hitting the offending limb, though. "I'll help you."

Yoongi feels his shoulders tense, and he tries to ignore it, setting the pot into the sink, while the boys place the other dirty dishes. He watches you for a moment, as you busy yourself packing away the seasoning and packets of spices back into their rightful places. He starts on the dishes, hyper aware of your presence somewhere behind him, but tries his best to keep it as far from the front of his mind as he could.

At some point, you switch places, and Yoongi takes up the task of drying the bowls and plates, packing them where they're supposed to be. He doesn't question it, just grateful to have something to do with his hands, mindful, to keep his head empty, because if his mind strays just a bit, he'll be thinking of things he really shouldn't. Off limit things. Like how he wished he'd just suck it up and kissed you back that night instead of pushing you away like he did. But, that would've been wrong of him, no? It wasn't the time and you weren't in the right frame of mind.

Yoongi skirts by you, packing the bowls back into the cupboard. This is awkward, maybe he should have let Hoseok do it when he said he would.

"Can I ask you something?" You suddenly ask, and Yoongi almost drops the bowl he's holding, not expecting you to speak because you've been so quiet. He glances over to the living room, where Namjoon and Jin are starting up a game of Mario Kart before he turns to look at you. Why does he always do that? It feels as though he's sneaking around for no reason whatsoever, always looking to make sure that Namjoon isn't looking at him.

"Uh, sure?" God, is it just him that's awkward? You look perfectly fine, elbow deep in soap water, scrubbing away at something in the sink, a small smile on your lips. Yoongi wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans, bringing them back up to stuff them into the pockets of his sweater. Play it cool, Min. "What's up?"

You turn your head, looking at him, and he swallows. The sink slowly drains, making that odd sucking noise as the water goes down and you look like you're struggling to grasp your words. There's a cute furrow between your brows, and Yoongi doesn't miss the way you bite your lip and look everywhere but at him.

Jin swears at Namjoon in rapid fire, in that way he does when he's got too much to say and not enough breath. Yoongi could see his arms flying up and swatting at Namjoon's shoulder, yelling about the blue shell he threw.

You take a breath, eyes settling somewhere above his head, clearly trying to block out Jin's racket, "Well...um..." You glance at him and look away, and Yoongi's just a little hopeful.

You look nervous, for once, wringing the life out of the dish towel in your hand as you press your lips together. There's a crease at your brow and Yoongi wonders what's bugging you. There were times when you'd freely spill your thoughts, up with him all ungodly hours just talking because that's what brother's best friends do, right? Offer comfort and a space to vent that isn't in the viewpoint of your sibling? He wonders what changed.

He knows though. It was that night, after that, things have been tense between you both, Yoongi just wishes it'd stop. He misses you texting him to tell him how your day went, or you constantly reminding him that he's way cooler than your older brother. He watches you now, if just to see you get even more flustered, even though he didn't know why.

Hope is an evil, never necessarily a good thing, if all it does is make you believe that something would work even though there's a slim chance that it actually would. Yoongi hates that he's hopeful right now. Hates that he's hoping that the flush of your cheeks and your nervous fidgeting has something to do with him, he hates that he wished you'd just spit it out already and stop his mind from coming up with all these things.

"Okay." You sigh, nodding more to yourself in a self-assured kind of way. Your eyes find his, briefly, before darting away, "Okay, so, I wanted to-"

"Hey, Y/n. Wanna play a round of Mario Kart with me?" Taehyung asks, walking into the kitchen with a smile, eyes filtering between you and Yoongi before they settle on you again. He pauses when you snap your mouth shut, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and slowly look at him. You and Taehyung share a look that Yoongi's not too certain he wants to know what's about; the silence between you three is too loud.

"What?" the younger man asks, "Did I interrupt something?"

"No."

"Yes."

Yoongi stares at Taehyung, trying his hardest not to glare at him, because what you wanted to say was clearly important. You were staring at him, Yoongi could feel it, but he's giving you an opening to say what you need to.

"No, Tae, you didn't. I'll play." You smile a little forcefully, finally giving the dishcloth a break and laying it down on the island counter. "I'll tell you later?" You tilt your head at Yoongi and he can only nod, hopeful again, that you really would and not find an easy out.

"Okay."

"Tae, can't we do this later or something?" You frown, speaking lowly as he wraps his arm with yours and drags you away, "I was actually really close this time."

"Yeah, no. You looked like you needed saving. So you're welcome." Taehyung shakes his head, curls swaying, "One day, little butterfly, you'll be free to spill your feelings." He sits you down on the couch next to Namjoon, who thankfully, has his earphones in his ears. Jin had already wandered off to do God knows after his defeat, leaving your brother to fiddle mindlessly with his phone.

You can hear Yoongi moving around in the kitchen, probably still packing away the dishes. Taehyung plops next to you, throwing his legs over yours and almost knocking Namjoon's phone out his hands. He starts up the game after passing you a remote, smiling at you, "He'll probably come over here to watch the game, so I'll lose and he could play against you, yeah?"

"Tae..." You groan, tilting your head back, and he pats your arm in a friendly manner, though a little firm in his delivery.

"If you don't tell him now that's fine..." He points at Namjoon with a tilt of his chin, trying to remind you of your brother's presence without being obvious. "But at least you could spend time with him. Never know what could happen." He wiggles his eyebrows.

Evidently, Taehyung's the only person who knows about that night with Yoongi. He was the one who picked you up from his apartment after all, firing question after question and not giving you room to breathe. Though he was a tad upset that he wasn't your first call when you were stranded, he understood why you'd called Yoongi. At the same time, he gave you an earful about just leaving the man hanging after you kissed him. Something you shouldn't have done in that moment, lord knows what Yoongi thinks of you now.

You've tried and failed so many times to tell Yoongi that you weren't as drunk as you seemed that night three months ago, you knew what you were doing. You were hurt, yes, but it was more out of realisation. Your relationship with your ex had been rocky at best, you'd given into his advances to hopefully put your crush on Yoongi behind you. It was easy at first, to have someone to put your focus on and give yourself to rather than to waste it on someone who didn't see you the way you saw him.

Yoongi has always seen you as his best friend's sister, nothing more. And you'd kissed him that night hoping that even for a second he'd realise, but he pushed you away and you knew there was no use hoping.

Even now, embarrassment still burns at your chest when you think about it, because what were you thinking? You'd left without saying anything to him because you were positively mortified. There were hundreds of unfinished texts that started and ended the same, with you contemplating if you should tell him or not.

More often than not, a tipsy night would find you huddled under your sheets with your finger hovering over Yoongi's contact.

It was more likely that he still saw you as the fresh out of highschool kid who followed him and your brother everywhere.

You groan loudly at your own thoughts, and Taehyung turns his head, looking between you and the TV screen, "Uh....You can play Toad if you want.."

"Huh?" The choose your character screen is up, idle, waiting for you to move your joystick around. Taehyung's already picked, "No, it's not that. I don't even like Toad, you can play him."

"That's the rudest thing that's ever come out of your mouth." Taehyung pokes your side with a finger, "What's on your mind?"

"Everything." You sigh, scrolling around to pick a random character. Don't get it wrong, you love Mario Kart as much as the next guy, but right now your mind was far, far away from this moment and the game.

Taehyung pats your thigh, "Maybe losing will help." He snickers, just as the game starts up.

"Oh, you're on." You're not gonna lose, no matter how confident Taehyung is, no one could beat you at Mario Kart.

"Cheater! TaehYUNG. Joon tell Tae to stop do- You're cheating!"

"It's literally impossible to cheat at this game!"

Yoongi leans back against the island counter, content to watch you crash and burn as Taehyung wins yet another race. His victory laugh is deep, almost unheard under the sound of your indignant screeching. The rest of the boys gathered to see what you were yelling about, finding the sight of your losing streak more than entertaining.

Yoongi had paused only for a moment, making a light snack that everyone could enjoy if they wanted to, though, it was only an excuse to make your favourite. He watches as you scoot to the edge of the couch, he can't see your expression, but he doesn't doubt that you're pouting with the cute furrow of your brows that comes with your concentration.

"Namjoon." You whine to your brother, though Namjoon's hands fly up into the air, phone and all.

"Nope, leave me out of this."

"But he's cheating!"

"I'm not! You just suck."

Yoongi picks up the tray of Hotteok as soon as everyone calms down, carrying it over to the group. He rests the tray down on the coffee table, careful to move quickly so he doesn't block the screen for too long.

"Oh! Sweet! Thanks Yoongi." Namjoon is the first to move, leaning forward to grab one.

"Wait, Joon. They're ho-" Yoongi snaps his mouth shut as Namjoon has already picked it up. He promptly drops it, pulling air through his teeth before blowing on his fingertips.

"Ow." Namjoon pouts at his fingers, rubbing them against the material of his grey sweats.

Yoongi sighs, "Be careful, would you?" He focuses on the TV screen, you're directly behind Taehyung, throwing a blue shell that sends him skidding off the road just in time for you to cross the finish line.

"Ha!" You push at Taehyung's shoulder in your excitement, sending him against Namjoon, who drops his Hotteok on the floor.

Namjoon stares forlornly at the pancake for a quiet moment, while you do a victory wiggle in your place, his misfortune ignored.

"Well there you go, who wants to play?" Taehyung asks, glancing around the room. Jungkook waves his arm, getting up from his space on the floor by Hoseok's legs to totter over. "Yoongi! Nice of you to volunteer."

"What? I didn't...?" Yoongi stares at Taehyung like he's sprouted a second head.

Taehyung ignores him.

"Hey I wanted to play..." Jungkook whines, Taehyung ignores him, too.

"Guys, let's go take a nap in the bunk room." He stretches his long legs over Namjoon's, pulling him up by the arms and shares a look with Jungkook who was likely, as confused as everyone else.

"I'm not tired, though. I napped when I got here." Hoseok pipes up, pressing his lips together when Jimin not so subtly nudges his side with an elbow.

"Let's go take a nap." Taehyung repeats, eyes narrowing slightly at Hoseok. He relents under Taehyung's gaze, sighing as he stands and drags Jimin and a complaining Jungkook.

Taehyung smiles brightly, dropping his hands heavily on Yoongi's shoulders. Yoongi doesn't know what the kid's playing at, but allows him to direct him to sit next to you.

Yoongi shares a look with Seokjin, who shrugs and stands to leave too, linking his arm with Namjoon, "I found a book I think you'd like Joon. But we have to look for it, it's lost in my bedroom somewhere..."

"Oh...Kay? Sure."

Their voices trail off as they head up the stairs, and Taehyung waves as he backs out of the living room, with a sweet - suspicious - boxy smile."Have fun you two!"

"Okay what the hell." Yoongi mutters, turning his head to look at you. You didn't look his way, staring dead ahead at the TV, fingers tapping lightly at the control.

He hears you take a breath, "Wanna play Toad?"

"Uh...sure."

A few minutes go by before Yoongi could finally relax, getting comfortable on the couch focusing on the game and not the fact that you're less than a metre away from him. You're nibbling on a piece of hotteok, a little too quiet for Yoongi's liking. He was expecting you to be yelling because he's way ahead of you.

"So...can I ask you a question?" Yoongi keeps his eyes on the screen as he asks, afraid to look at you because he might slip up or stop all together. He could already hear the little voice in his head screaming at him to shut up. "I just wanna ask about...what you wanted to tell me in the kitchen?"

Yoongi doesn't normally pry, people's business are theirs and not his. But curiosity is driving him up a wall and he just needs to know. Maybe he was being foolishly hopeful again, thinking that whatever it was had something to do with him. That's why you hadn't said anything when Taehyung interrupted, right?

Yoongi wonders what Taehyung's deal was, first he was being too clingy with you - not that it's any of his business - and now he's acting so painfully obvious; trying to get you both in a room alone. It didn't go over Yoongi's head, as not a lot of things do.

He purposely lets you win the race, though, your victory was unsounded as you set the controller aside. "Right... kitchen..."

"You know you could tell me anything, right?" Yoongi says softly, fingers just wanting to reach for yours, if just to offer comfort. He tucks them against his palm though, and into the pouch of his sweater for an extra precaution.

"Yeah I know," You smile faintly, "like old times right?"

"Yeah exactly, and I won't judge, you know that. So whatever it is, just say it."

Maybe his words were a bit harsh? You stiffen a bit in place, sighing through your nose before you turn to look at him. The determination from earlier is back in your eyes again, and Yoongi finds it impossible to hold your gaze, and he's the first to look away this time. Keep it together, will you?

He feels heat climbing his neck, racing to each of his cheeks and he hopes to god you just think he's going pink because it's cold in here. Seokjin really needs to get that crappy heater fixed so Yoongi can blame something if you ask about it.

"Okay so remember the time when you-"

"You two are being awfully quiet." Seokjin pokes his head into the room, staring at you both, but not too long, before his eyes find the tv screen. "Oh, Yoongi, did you win?"

"No..." Yoongi sighs, watching as you shut him out once more.

"Really? It was so quiet..."

You make an offended sound in the back of your throat, straightening a bit to glare at Seokjin.

"Yoongi, can you help me with the firepit?"

Yoongi follows Seokjin outside along the wrap-around porch, the sun was halfway in its descent, painting the sky in a flurry of soft colours. The lake glistens with amber crystals, catching the sun's sleepy gaze as it drifts slowly off behind the hills; almost out of sight.

The sunken fire pit was in the backyard, something Yoongi helped Seokjin install last year. He's quite proud of it really, he did most of the heavy lifting while Seokjin stood around telling him how and where he wanted things like a glorified dictator.

As Seokjin gathers the firewood and steps down the three steps to throw the logs into the firepit, Yoongi realises that he didn't actually need any help.

"Watching you try to talk to Y/n is so painful. Like that time I broke my arm but worse."

"I actually wasn't doing the talking." Yoongi grumbles, enjoying the satisfying crunch of gravel under his sandals as he walks over to the cushioned semi circle bench and sits to watch Seokjin do all the work. "You have terrible timing."

Seokjin scoffs, shaking his head, "It's a wonder Namjoon hasn't figured it out yet...you're so obvious."

Yoongi feels like Seokjin just isn't listening to him, continuing his mission of getting the fire going; his words completely ignored.

"Joon is oblivious sometimes."

"You are too."

"Here, this one's longer."

Yoongi watches as Seokjin trades wires with Jungkook, patting him on the shoulder as the younger man happily sticks his marshmallow on the end of his wire. As usual when they're all together, there's laughter in the air, and the lightness Yoongi feels in his chest is something he misses when he's alone.

He watches the moon rise behind the trees, full and glowing brightly in the cloudless sky. The fire was warm, the burning wood crackling softly, sending little glowing sparks up into the air. Everyone had their own bag of marshmallows for toasting, with chocolate and biscuits for s'mores.

"This is nice," Hoseok comments, smacking Jimin's hand away from the smores he was setting up, tucking them into the corner of a small bowl he brought. Jimin gets one anyway; sneaking it away while Hoseok wasn't looking.

"Yeah, we haven't done this in forever." Namjoon sticks the wire with his marshmallow a little too close to the fire.

"It's gonna burn if you do it like that." Yoongi reaches over and raises Namjoon's hand higher.

"When it's burnt it's the best, though."

"Are you a sadist?" Taehyung frowns at Jungkook, "it's better when it's just a little toasty."

"It won't melt inside if you play kiss and tell with the fire. You gotta burn it." Jungkook's marshmallow was just on the edge of charred and Yoongi watches with mild disgust as he smushes the thing between pieces of chocolate and unsweetened biscuits. He shoves the entire thing in his mouth and closes his eyes, moaning around the treat like it's the best thing he's ever tasted.

"Um? There's no way you're enjoying that." Hoseok didn't try to hide how he felt about it, narrowing his eyes at Jungkook. "Stop moaning like that!"

"I wasn't moaning!"

"Yes you were!"

Yoongi shakes his head, turning to look at you, who sat next to him, eating out of your own bag of marshmallows. The wire Seokjin had given you is still in your lap, untouched.

"Want me to make one for you?" He asks softly, already sticking a marshmallow on his wire. He hangs it over the fire and twirls it so it gets nice and brown, "Do you want it with the cookies?"

"Yeah, thanks." You smile sweetly at him, and Yoongi feels his heart stutter in his chest.

Once he's finished assembling the s'more, he hands it over to you. You take a bite out of it, and Yoongi struggles to breathe the very next second at the sound you make, turning his head swiftly to stare into the fire as though it would save him.

"Dude, Y/n. That's gotta be the best s'more ever created." Taehyung says, snickering from across the firepit, "Yoongi make me one, too!"

"You can make it yourself." Yoongi's cheeks flush, passing you a bottle of water when you choke.

"I wanna make happy noises, too."

When the fire in the pit smolders and the embers of the wood burn orange, everyone is ready to call it a night. The younger ones escape to the second floor bunk room first, Seokjin and Hoseok right behind them.

Hoseok is trying to convince Seokjin to flip a coin for the master bedroom while they go up the stairs.

"Owner's rights, Hobi."

"You have any idea what it's like to share a bathroom with those three? Have a heart!"

Their voices fade, and Yoongi is left standing in the entryway with you and Namjoon, feeling awkward and not quite sure what he should do with his hands. So he shoves them in the pockets of his sweatpants, and drags his feet towards the kitchen, suddenly thirsty.

You and Namjoon are talking in hushed tones, too quiet for him to hear, but he pays it no mind, it isn't his business, really.

You come in a second later, moving to the fridge just as Yoongi moves past you, and he's a little curious, a little worried, because you look a bit upset. There's a frown tugging at the corner of your mouth as you crack open a bottle of water.

"Everything okay?" Yoongi asks softly, fingers just itching to reach out for you, but he holds his own bottled water a little tighter instead.

"Yeah...Joon is just..." You shake your head, "Are you staying up to watch the movie with us?"

Your change of subject didn't surprise Yoongi, you've been doing that a lot today. He lifts his shoulder in a shrug, "I might...do you want me to?"

Yoongi would give you anything you ask for right now, hell, he'd find a way to pull the moon from the sky if you asked it of him.

"Huh?" Your eyes seems panicked for a second as they dart away to stare off elsewhere. "If you want to, it's up to you really."

"Then I'll watch." He gives an easy smile, "Are you sure you're okay?" He steps closer, a hand meeting your cheek gently, unintentionally and without Yoongi's consent. Simply out of his need to offer you comfort when he can, and maybe it's his wishful thinking, maybe it's that stupid thing called hope again; Yoongi swears you lean into his touch. Your skin is warm, like cooling tea on a winter's morning.

"I'm fine," You're staring at his lips as you say this, and Yoongi's heart skips before it gallops, threatening to burst from his chest. Maybe he's imagining it, but you move a step closer, and he does too, leaning down a bit to meet your height, "I just wanted to.."

Just another inch, if he moves just an inch closer. You're so close now that your exhales mingles with his in the space between you both, he could feel the chill seeping off the bottled water you hold, pressed against his stomach where your hands linger.

Yoongi decides he's not going to be awkward right now, he's going to be brave and just do this. He's going to kiss you and pour everything he feels into it, and hope - prays - that you feel it too.

"Ahem."

You and Yoongi both spring apart like teenagers caught doing something they shouldn't. Yoongi's cheeks are heating up too quickly for him to stop it, and yours are too, and he doesn't want to turn around because he knows who's behind him.

Think fast, Yoongi. Think.

"I hope your eye feels better. You should kiss - rinse! Rinse with warm water. 'Cause you know...germs...could uh.... get in there.... "

Really? Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, already anticipating his death when he turns to face the grim reaper behind him.

Namjoon stands in the kitchen doorway, eyebrow raised, doing that thing he does with his jaw. Yoongi feels a little faint, looking at the ugly painting Taehyung convinced Seokjin to buy and hang up in the living room over his head.

"Y/n had something in her eye and I was just checking." He looks back at you and you look just as confused as he's feeling, smiling though, as if his misery is funny to you. "R-remember. Warm water, okay?"

With that he leaves, not looking at Namjoon, who's gaze he could feel at the back of his head.

"Joon, are you serious?" Your voice was a harsh whisper, a little loud in the silence of the kitchen.

Yoongi walks away, hands in his pockets, not catching Namjoon's reply as he makes his escape. What the fuck was that?

"Let's watch The Conjuring."

"Fuck that." Hoseok puts his palms up, "Unless you're willing to cuddle me to sleep, we're not watching that movie."

A chorus of groans fills the room, "For the love of God, just pick something already. Not you, Jungkook."

"It's not my fault Hobi's a coward."

Hoseok's reaches over Seokjin to smack the back of Jungkook's head, who immediately retaliates by hitting Seokjin instead. The three of them trade playful smacks for a moment, while Taehyung and Jimin argue about which movie would be best to watch.

"Okay let's just all pick something." You say, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers, "Rock, paper, scissors, whoever wins; we'll watch."

Terrible idea really, everyone knows Jungkook is going to win.

Yoongi opts out, not really caring what goes up on the screen. He's sitting with his hands under his thighs, trying to keep them warm but at the same time, keeping them from doing something stupid. You're right next to him on the couch, he's once again hyper aware of your closeness, the way your arm would brush his every time you moved, the scent of your shampoo, soft and fruit scented.

He focuses on the way a single tear slips from Hoseok's eye, the way he tries to make himself as small as possible on the other couch next to Seokjin with a white knuckled grip on the latter's sweater. Jungkook triumphs in his endeavour of beating everyone who played against him, laughing, carefree and malicious as he pulls up The Conjuring.

Hoseok keeps his head tucked behind Seokjin's shoulder for most of the movie, clinging to him and jumping at every loud sound from the TV; poor guy's going through it.

Yoongi is just barely watching, staring at the screen, but not really following along - he has no idea what's going on. Mind too distracted with the fact that you chose to sit next to him and not next to anyone else. He's still reeling from the incident in the kitchen, glancing at Namjoon who was stuffing his face with popcorn, form outlined in the glow of the tv.

He could feel the warmth of your thigh through his sweatpants, and every little movement you'd make at the jumpscares and the loud sounds.

Hoseok dips halfway through, going up the darkened upstairs hallway with his phone torch on. Jungkook had the audacity to fall asleep, drooling on Seokjin's shoulder and mumbling unintelligible words; unbothered.

"I'm going to bed." Yoongi says to you, not really sleepy, but not interested in the movie enough to stay and watch. You grab at his hand and he pauses, "What?"

"You're leaving me here to suffer?"

"You're a big girl, you can take it." He shrugs, patting your hand before getting up. "Night guys."

Yoongi lays quietly in his bed, staring up at the ceiling with a frown, unable to sleep. He turns his head, looking at the clock that blinks sleepily back at him and sighs, it's getting later into the night and sleep continues to evade him.

The house seemed to have quieted, the sound of Jimin and Taehyung arguing about who gets to use the upstairs bathroom first stopped a while ago, though, the stillness only allowed Yoongi's mind to wander off. He wonders if you're sleeping yet, he knows you have trouble sometimes, a common curse you both share.

He wonders about what you and Namjoon argued about, if it had anything to do with him. God he hopes not. The last thing he wants is for you and your brother to fall out because of him.

There's a soft knock on his door, quiet enough that he almost misses it. Just almost.

Yoongi gets out of bed, dragging his feet to the door. He isn't completely shocked to find you on the other side, looking like you're two seconds from walking away. Your hand still hovers, eyes impossibly big when they meet his in the soft light of the downstairs hallway.

"Hi." You say, softly, hand falling and gripping at the hem of a tee shirt he's sure belongs to Namjoon.

"...Hi?" Yoongi's brows furrow, not quite sure what you're doing knocking on his door at one in the morning, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just wanted to talk to you..." He lets you shuffle into his room, and you walk over to the bed while he closes the door.

"What I wanted to tell you earlier..." You sit on his bed, a good distance away, enough to leave the space between you both cold and Yoongi longing for you to come closer. You seem to be struggling, staying quiet for a little too long.

"Hey." Yoongi calls, "Whatever it is, you can tell me, okay? You know I'd never judge you." He feels the need to repeat himself, just in case you need to hear it again.

"You will." You glance at him, bottom lip caught between your teeth, and you shake your head, "This was stupid..."

"Hey, hey." Yoongi grabs your wrist, stopping you from getting up. "How about I look over there?" He points at a random spot beside him with a thumb, "I won't look at you and you can just say it." He turns for good measure, staring at the wall on the far side of the room.

You're silent for a moment, a long moment that has Yoongi wondering. Maybe he should stop pestering you about it, bury his curiosity - his concern - in a box somewhere to forget about. He's been on your back about it for most of the day, granted, the universe apparently didn't want you to say anything, not with the way you were constantly interrupted every time you tried to talk about it. He should take that as a sign and drop it all together.

"You okay back there?" Yoongi asks softly, turning his head slightly, but not facing you.

"I wasn't really drunk." You say

Confused, Yoongi's brows furrow, "Huh?" He turns to face you, "What are you talking about?"

"The night you picked me up outside that bar." You're not looking at him, instead, you're looking down at your hands in your lap. The events of that night comes rushing to the front of Yoongi's mind, the way you kissed him, how soft your lips were.

"Wait, so..." Something in Yoongi's ears was buzzing, loud and distracting, as realization dawned, he feels a heat rising from his toes. "You-" he stands quickly from the bed, now that he knows exactly why you've been trying to say all day, he thinks he just might lose it.

"Why'd you leave without saying anything?" It's the first thing out of his mouth and Yoongi wishes he'd just shut up.

"I was embarrassed that I just kissed you out of nowhere like that. And you pushed me away, what else was I supposed to do?" You say in a rush, "I know you only see me as Namjoon's little sister."

"I don't." Yoongi says, and at your pause, his palms start to sweat, heart kicking against his ribcage. "Why did you kiss me that night?"

"You probably think it was because I was drunk. That wasn't it." You look him in the eye, "I wanted to."

Yoongi takes a breath and a moment to think carefully about what he's about to say, "Y/n." He runs his palms against his thighs, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "You were drunk. Just out of a relationship and you only kissed me because you were hurting, that's it."

"That's not-" You sigh loudly, pursing your lips and staring at the ceiling, "Do you even know why I dated that idiot? It's because you..." You trail off, picking at a loose thread on your t shirt.

Yoongi waits, giving you the moment you need to gather your words.

"I dated him so that I could forget you." You say softly, not looking at him, and Yoongi feels like he's buffering, like a frozen computer screen. Just standing there as he processes your words, it's taking a while to sink in, or they have, Yoongi is only trying to understand them. "I thought that dating him you would..."

Yoongi sighs, "Tell me something, yeah?"

You nod quietly, waiting. Yoongi watches you for a moment, he's more curious now, "How long?"

He watches as you fluster, eyes darting around to look at anywhere that isn't him. The way your fingers pinch at the dark sheets on the bed, you draw your bottom lip between your teeth and Yoongi just wants to kiss you. But as he's been doing all day, he gives you a moment; Yoongi is nothing but patient.

"Since we met?"

Is that a question? There Yoongi goes buffering again. He blinks a couple of times, mind going through the motions of his forced epiphany. The moments when you used to follow him and Namjoon around, all the staying up late texting as though you both were more than you were at the time.

"I really really like you and I tried to show you that night, but well..."

You get up from his bed with a sigh and step towards him and Yoongi tries his best not to take a step back, he allows you to reach him, to stand close enough for him to touch. He's panicking, on the inside, a voice in the back of his mind telling him that this is a terrible idea and that he should probably stop you.

He can't bring himself to, words stuck in his throat.

You're closer now, Yoongi could feel the warmth of you, and he swears this time that he'll be brave. So he kisses you first, fingers tangling in your hair, a hand gripping your waist to pull you even closer. He feels your hands against his chest as his eyes close, your lips are warm and as soft as he remembers, and he groans at the taste of you. His tongue finds yours, slowly, sliding against yours and he wants to savour this, commit your every sound to memory. Yoongi groans when your hands slide into his hair, tugging lightly at the nape of his neck.

He pulls back for air, lungs trying to take in as much air as possible, too quickly, he feels lightheaded. But that could just be because of you. He presses a fleeting kiss at the corner of your mouth, nose brushing against yours lightly. He's pretty sure this is what being high feels like, the rushing of his blood in his ears and the tingling at the tips of his fingers.

"You're gonna end me." Namjoon will too. The thought alone was enough to make Yoongi pause, realise the grip he had on your hips. One of his hands is just shy of the exposed skin under your tee shirt, hyper aware of the way your chest is pressed to his, your lips on his neck.

Namjoon is going to kill him.

He feels your teeth nip at the skin of his neck and he hisses between his teeth, your tongue follows. He pulls away, pushing you from him gently to take a couple steps back. He sees the question in your eyes, the soft furrow of your brows. He sighs through his nose, thinking about how much of a terrible idea this was, and how Namjoon would very likely drown him in the lake.

"Y/n...we can't." This was the reason he pushed you away the first time. Yoongi likes to think ahead, think about all the outcomes of a situation before he walks into it. This could go two ways, and Yoongi's mind can only focus on the worst scenario. What if this goes wrong? What if doing this now ruins everything, he'd not only lose you, but Namjoon as well.

He sees your pout and he looks away, wondering why he can't just let it happen and deal with the consequences later. But Yoongi isn't like that. He likes to sit and over think things.

"Is this about Namjoon?"

Yoongi startles at your question, jolting a bit as he drops his hands from your waist, fingers curling against his palm. He's not as good at hiding his thoughts as he presumed, or you just knew him too well for his own good. He answers your question with a silent nod, not meeting your eyes in the darkness of his room.

"Yoongi. He wouldn't care. Namjoon can't do anything, what I do isn't his business."

Yoongi goes to argue that that's not the point. You were so off the mark that he almost laughed, Namjoon wouldn't care what you thought. He wouldn't be able to look past Yoongi even thinking about touching you. So much for being brave.

You sigh, and Yoongi catches the hurt in the sound.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't push me away again, please." You reach for him and Yoongi doesn't stop you, because he can; he doesn't want to. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to."

"Are you sure?" He asks seriously, catching your wrist, ducking his head so that he could meet your eyes properly, "Tell me now that this is okay because when I start I won't stop."

You barely got to nod before Yoongi was kissing you again, pouring everything he had into it, hands moving down to grip at your ass in your cotton shorts. He takes careful steps, walking you backwards towards the bed.

"Just let me take care of you, yeah?" Yoongi gently pushes you back onto the bed, taking his time to strip you out of your clothes. Not letting his worries and doubts stop him from telling you how beautiful you are, or from kissing every inch of skin revealed to his eyes.

He kisses his way down your thighs once your shorts and panties are out of the way, stopping every now and then to nibble at the soft flesh. Your little sighs and moans are something he wants to record and keep with him forever, even though he wouldn't need them to remember.

He touches you lightly, just to tease, sliding his hands down your thighs, eyes locked on your glistening pussy. He wants to draw this out, ignoring your impatient whine and the rise of your hips at his touch. He's waited so long for this, wanting to taste you beyond the kiss you shared so long ago, Yoongi wants to make you beg. Reduce you to a mumbling mess of incoherent words, but at the same time, he too is impatient.

He shushes you gently at your call of his name, fingers parting your folds and watching the way your pussy clenches around nothing at his gaze. "So pretty, baby."

It was your only warning before he dove in, licking a board stripe from your engerance to your clit, focusing the tip of his tongue at the bundle of nerves. You suck in a sharp breath, hand tugging at his hair and it only spurs Yoongi on. He sucks gently in your clit, tongue moving in slow figures and dips a finger into your wet heat. He groans at the way your cunt just sucks him in, arousal dripping down his hand and he adds another, curling them against the soft spot within you.

He looks up at you, past your heaving chest to your fucked out face. Your parted lips, furrowed brows, glazed eyes looking back at him.

"Yoon--fuck."

Yoongi groans lowly in his throat, pressing his tongue flat against your clit, mouth flooding with your taste. He'd stay there forever if you gave him the chance, listening to the way your breath hitches and the sound of your moans and the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks harshly. He drives his tongue inside you, and the whine that leaves you has him rutting his hips against the bed. He can't get enough of your taste, the way your pussy clenches he's around his fingers.

"You taste so good, baby." Yoongi loves the way you grip at his hair, the way you tug sends tingles down his spine. He thrusts two fingers inside you, crooking them right, hitting the spot that sends your moans into a higher octave. He can't be bothered with how loud you're being, or if anyone's awake right now and would know exactly what you're both up to. You don't seem to care either, too lost in the pleasure; moaning his name.

"F-fuck, right there," you whimper, thighs tensing around his head. Yoongi groans as he obeys, crooking his fingers and rubbing at the spot that makes you sing so sweetly. His lips never leave your clit, tongue swirling around the swollen nub in figure eights. Dragging his fingers within the tightness of your dripping heat, he could tell you're close, feeling the way your thighs tremble. "Fu-"

Your back arches off the sheets, and Yoongi moans when your release gushes out of you and into his mouth. He stays there and takes it all, until you push at him instead of pull and Yoongi lets up, running his hands up your sides in an attempt to soothe as you tremble in the after wave. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," you squeak out and Yoongi chuckles, getting up to sit back on his thighs. He watches you for a moment, watching the way your chest heaves with your every breath, your hair a tangled mess against his pillows. His eyes trail your form, down to the mess between your thighs that twitched at his attention.

"Sure? You good to go on?" He asks to be sure, squeezing your hip gently. You nod, reaching for him and he goes without complaint, caging you within his arms and kisses you slowly. His tongue tangles with yours, and he grinds his hips down against yours, seeking friction for his aching cock, dampening the front of his sweatpants.

"Fuck that feels so good." He groans, sucking bruises into the soft skin of your neck. He angles his hips so that the length of his cock rubs directly against your clit, shuddering, it feels so good and Yoongi can't stop. He slows down though, because he could feel his release racing down his spine. "Fuck, baby."

"Wanna..." You push at his shoulders, "Wanna suck your cock." Your hands are at the drawstrings of his sweatpants already, tugging, "Wanna taste you, too."

"Fuck, okay."

Yoongi gets off the bed to shuck off his sweats, cock springing free, red and pulsing, precum beading at the tip. He chuckles at your facial expression, eyes surprised even though your bottom lip is caught between your teeth. He notes the way your eyes follow the movement of his hand, he grips his cock and squeezes, thumb catching the translucent drop and dragging it down his shaft.

"You're big."

"Good for you, then?" He pumps his shaft slowly, whispering curses under his breath.

You roll your eyes, "It wouldn't have mattered if-"

"Shh." Yoongi shushes and crooks the fingers of his free hand at you, "Come here."

He leans down to grab a pillow behind you, pausing, "Where's comfortable for you?"

"Wherever you want me," you say sweetly, and it would've been cute with the way you smile, if it wasn't for the look in your eyes. For a moment Yoongi feels like he's in for way more than he bargained for, with you looking so pretty, alluring, like a succubus ready to siphon his soul. Such a far contrast from the you of earlier, fumbling with your words and flushing under his gaze.

"This isn't about me." Yoongi swallows, "Are you kneeling or do you wanna stay on the bed?"

"I'll stay here." You make yourself comfortable, propping up on your elbows, and Yoongi passes you the pillow to help you reach his hips in your position. You slide the pillow under your chest, already reaching for him before he steps closer and Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath when your smaller hand wraps around his cock.

You mirror his motions from before, pumping slowly and Yoongi's not sure if you're teasing him or not. Tongue snaking out to kitten lick at the head, you swirl it around before taking it into your mouth.

"Ah fuck." Yoongi throws his head back, a hand finding your hair as you take him slowly to the back of your throat. He feels your exhales against his tummy, just barely, his mind too muddled to focus on anything but the warmth of your throat and the wiggling of your tongue under his shaft. "You're doing so good, baby."

You hum a gurgle of a word Yoongi would probably never decipher, the vibrations around the head of his cock has him tugging lightly on your hair and pulling out and away from your mouth, breathing hard. He'd be damned if he comes so quickly, that shit will probably haunt him for the rest of his life.

There's a string of spit connecting your lips to his cock, and you smile like the minx you are, not letting him get far enough away before you're taking his cock into your mouth again, bobbing your head at a quick pace. Yoongi could cry, he's trying so hard, there's sweat dripping from his hair, you're pulling him closer, taking him deeper and his eyes roll back.

"Shit. Slow down." His words trail off in a moan, and he's unable to help the rolling of his hips, thrusting his cock into the warmth of your throat, gently, mindful of your breathing. You swallow and he swears, thighs tensing and he stops, pulling away again to release a stuttered exhale. Leaning down, he kisses you, licking into your mouth with haste, tasting himself on your tongue. "Wanna fuck you." He breathes against your lips, releasing your hair for you to scoot back up the bed.

He's quick to follow, slotting his hips between your thighs, stopping to map bruises against the skin of your chest. He laves his tongue over a nipple, fingers toying with the other, he takes the pebbled bud into his mouth just to hear you make a pretty sound.

"Yoongi." You whine his name, and Yoongi doesn't waste another second, hooking one of your knees over his elbow, other hand guiding his cock to your wet cunt. He stays there for a moment, tapping his cock against your clit just to watch you squirm. You raise your hips to meet his teasing thrusts and Yoongi chuckles, easing back to slowly drag his cock down your slit until it prods at your entrance.

He slowly presses into you, watching the way your pussy sucks him in, arousal coating his cock. "You're so fucking tight." Yoongi stills, gripping your hips, watching you through a lust filled haze. He thrusts shallowly into you until he bottoms out and stills, free hand squeezing your hip gently. He swipes his tongue over his thumb, pressing the digit against your clit to rub in slow circles, "Relax for me, baby."

When he feels your body relax around him, he moves, setting a slow pace to start, leaning down to slot his lips over yours, swallowing the sounds you made. You arms wrap around his neck, nails scraping red, angry lines at his shoulder blades. The pain only heightens the pleasure he feels, crossing his eyes and curling his toes.

"Fuck." Yoongi bites gently on your earlobe, "You're so good for me baby. So fucking good. Taking my cock so well."

He knows you're getting tired of his pace. You're lifting your hips to meet his thrust, moaning helplessly into his ears. "Want more, baby?" He leans back in time to catch your nod, kiss swollen bottom lip caught between your teeth. He grips your hips again, keeping you from moving, and slows down just to watch you squirm and beg for him.

"Ple-fuck. Jus-" your words cut off with a gasp, hands gripping Yoongi's wrists where he holds you. He sets a punishing pace, the sound of his thighs hitting your ass loud in the quiet of the room. "Oh F-fuck, Yoongi."

"This what you wanted, hmm?" He tilts his head at you, one eyebrow raised, sliding a hand up your sweat slicked skin to cup your jaw, you take his thumb into your mouth and Yoongi's cock pulses with the need for his release. He smirks, pressing his thumb down on your tongue, pace never faltering, his nerves are on the edge of frying, orgasm tingling at the end of his spine. Pulling his hand away from your mouth and presses his thumb against your clit, looking down at the way his ccok, covered in your arousal, disappears inside you.

Yoongi groans, the sound rumbling in his chest, feeling your pussy clenching around his cock, squeezing tight as your breath hitches. "Ah--fuck I'm gonna-"

"Yeah? Come for me, baby." As your body tenses and tremble, Yoongi chases his end, hips stuttering and he gasps, cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat as his release spills into you. "Oh fuck."

Head light and ears ringing, Yoongi kisses you, it's more tongue than anything else, but he doesn't care. He does his best to keep the full weight of him off you, peppering kisses along your jaw. He feels your every breath and his sweat cools on his skin, "You okay?"

There's sweat burning his eyes and he squints at you as you push his hair back and away from his face, you're smiling and giggling shyly. Like if he told you a joke and didn't just fuck you nine ways to hell. "I'm perfect."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, leaning back up again to carefully slip his softening cock out of your still pulsing walls. His release comes flowing out not two seconds after, he watches with his bottom lip between his teeth, cock giving an interested twitch.

Yoongi gets up before he starts something again, because he just might die trying to go through a second round so quickly. "Don't move, I'll be right back."

He looks around on the floor for where he left his sweatpants, he puts them on and shuffles quickly to the door. He only realises just how quiet it is now that it's quiet, he realises how loud the two of you were being.

He goes back to you with a warm, damp washrag, finding you close to falling asleep. He cleans you up anyway, mindful of your sensitivity.

When he's done he watches you for a moment, fingers finding yours first. Mindlessly he fiddles with them and reaches for his discarded shirt and passes it to you, releases your hand only for you to put it on. "We probably could've done this sooner." You say softly, smiling.

Yoongi tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "What? The sex or...?"

You lightly swat his arm, "You know what I mean."

"I do." Yoongi presses a kiss to your wrist, sighing when you gently lay that palm against his cheek. He believes that action speaks volumes and there's no need for words, but he realises that he hadn't said it back to you earlier. Though, he was very much distracted and his thoughts were absent. "I like you too...alot...just in case that wasn't clear."

He shifts on the bed to be closer to you and leans his head on your shoulder, "I'm sorry it took me so long. It takes me a while to come to terms with things. I overthink and make things harder for myself, I wasn't sure if this was the right way to go."

You hum softly, breath tickling his ears, "It's okay. I suck too. We could've avoided the run around if I'd just told you."

"Yeah, you're terrible. I had no idea what to do with your smoke signals." Yoongi raises his head, chuckling. Leaning over, he presses a kiss to your forehead and tilts your chin to kiss you softly. "Can I take you out? When we get back."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

Yoongi smiles, feeling like a kid and nudges you softly, "Go pee. I'll strip the sheets, go on."

He watches as you walk on wobbly legs till you reach the door and pause, turning your head to watch him with wide eyes, "you don't think they heard us, do you?"

"Nah, they're asleep."

"Dude, whoever was watching their porn so loudly last night, fuck you. Honestly, the lack of respect in this household."

It's the first thing Jimin says when he comes downstairs the next morning, looking like he'd slept on the wrong side of the bed. Eyes swollen as he takes the coffee Seokjin offers and the sympathetic pat to his shoulder.

Yoongi ignores the conversation, even though you looked like you were about to combust next to him. Seokjin was giving him a look from his spot by the stove, looking ridiculous in the pink apron he favoured.

"Yeah the walls are so thin in here it's wild." Seokjin wiggles his eyebrows at Yoongi and you choose that moment to choke on your sip of orange juice.

Taehyung pauses, fork halfway to his mouth with a strip of bacon hanging for dear life at the end of it. He looks between the both of you for a quiet moment, strong brows furrowed until something lights in his eyes. "Oh my god."

Jimin, who's slumping in his seat, looking like he wanted nothing more than to crawl his way back upstairs perks up at Taehyung's words, "What?"

Yoongi stares silently at Taehyung, daring him to open his big mouth and say exactly what he definitely wants to say.

"Nothing. Nothing...." Taehyung waves his hand with the fork, sending the piece of bacon flying off it and into his glass of orange juice. Jimin watches on with disgust as Taehyung fishes the piece out of the cup and tosses it into his mouth.

"The bin is right there."

"Are you drinking the juice?"

Yoongi runs circles into the skin of your knee, as Taehyung and Jimin bicker.

"Oh, Joon. Come eat." Seokjin wanders over to the entrance and Yoongi just barely catches the sight of Namjoon passing by, saying that he was going for a walk first. Hoseok and Jungkook enter just then, finding their spots at the table as Seokjin sets plates for them.

"I'll be right back." Yoongi says softly, pressing a kiss to your temple, leaving Jimin sputtering into his coffee. He pushes his chair back and stands, catching the way Hoseok squints at you.

He points, not saying anything before he leans around Taehyung to smack at Jimin's arm, "I told you so! You owe me fifty."

"Bold of you to assume I came here with money."

"You guys made a bet?" You ask, incredulous.

"Yeah. It's either someone was watching porn, or someone was getting it. You and Yoongi are the only ones not sharing a room..."

Hoseok voice fades as Yoongi shuts the front door behind him. It's cold, mist and dew clinging to the world and Yoongi regrets leaving his sweater in his room. He rubs his hands over his arms, the long sleeves of his t shirt barely keeping him warm.

Namjoon's already walking, a good distance from the house near the lake's edge. Yoongi takes his time walking over, gravel crunching under his feet, he slots his hands into his pockets to keep them warm.

When he reaches Namjoon, the younger man is crouched down, cooing at something on the ground. There's a little crab scurrying around trying to get away from Namjoon's curious fingers.

"Just let the little guy be." Yoongi announces himself, "Thing's probably scared shitless."

"I just wanna pick him up, though," Namjoon continues to try, sighing when the little crab escapes into the lake. "Oh well.." He dusts his hands and stands up, finally looking over at Yoongi.

"Aren't you cold?" He asks, and remembering he's standing out in a tshirt and sweats, Yoongi shivers. Namjoon looks all cozy in his beige sweater and matching beanie.

"I wanted to run something by you." Yoongi says, looking out at the lake and the way the light of the morning sun glitters against the still waters. He shoves his cold hands into the pockets of his pants, rubbing his thumb over his curled fingers. He realised that this is going to be as hard as trying to talk to you, and Namjoon waits patiently, watching Yoongi with eyes that seemed to know too much.

"Uh.." Yoongi chances a look, glancing at Namjoon who's just as quiet as him, waiting. "Look man, Y/n and I had a talk last night."

"Right?" Namjoon gives him a look, a confused one, head tilting and all.

Yoongi takes a breath and decides to go headfirst, though he takes a step back from Namjoon to be sure. "I really like your sister and we talked about it and I just wanted you to know that."

The uncomfortable look that morphs Namjoon's features wasn't what Yoongi was expecting, especially since the look stays there for a while as Namjoon just stares at him. He raises a hand to scratch at his cheek, "Dude."

"What?"

"Are you saying that I owe Hoseok fifty dollars?"

"...Eh?" Yoongi's confused, and it feels as though he's spent this whole weekend running on pure confused energy. Namjoon shakes his head, laughing in a way that makes Yoongi take another step back.

"I know. You two are terrible at hiding shit." Namjoon points his thumb over his shoulder, back at the house where he glances. From where he stands, he could see Seokjin, Taehyung and Jimin peering out through the window. "I know my sister, and I know my best friend. You guys are adults, so, really, there's nothing I can do but watch it happen."

Namjoon shrugs, and Yoongi flushes, cheeks heating. "But when I met her...you...you gave me a look."

"I was trying to ask if you wanted water!"

"That was not a 'do you want water' look, Joon."

Namjoon reaches over and pats his shoulder softly, hand lingering, "You have my blessing, if that's what you came to ask for." He smiles, eyes disappearing, but Yoongi's relief is cut short when he tries to shift away, Namjoon's grip tightening. "Though, she's still my little sister. I know where you live."

Yoongi chuckles, a little scared.

"Good talk." Namjoon nods to himself, "I'm going inside. Get out of the cold!"

Tagging: @madbutgloriouspond @blog-name-idk @taestefully-in-luv @btsstan12 @hamsterclaw @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @doneimnida @here2bbtstrash

3K notes · View notes

duhnova · 1 year

Text

a witches apothecary: for all your desires and needs

pairing: witch!seungcheol x fem!reader

word count: ~4.8k

synopsis: when your boyfriend told you to read the labels on the bottles carefully you should’ve listened, because what was supposed to be a relaxing night of you messaging all the tension away turned to him being in even more pain that only you could fix.

warning(s): smut under the cut (mdni!!), established relationship, supernatural / witch au, light fluff, hint of angst? mentions of food, mentions of blood, petnames (love, babe, baby, ect.) are used for both reader and cheol, whore is used / slight degradation, marking, praise, aphrodisiac oil is used, unprotected sex, creampie, slight breeding kink, dick riding, multiple orgasms (m), squirting, oral (m receiving), throat / face fucking, deep throating, cum eating, let me know if i forgot anything! - don’t mind grammatical errors/typos (i tried) // thank you @onlyhuis & @multi-kpop-fanfics for proofreading!

the story of pink eros collab masterlist

“here you go cheol,” you plop the last basket full of herbs down on the counter top. “i finished harvesting all your herbs.” you give him a bright smile despite all the dirt on your face and hands.

“thank you baby.” he smiles back, laughing quietly at the state of your being. “when you get cleaned up, could you put these away for me please? i need to start prepping the herbs to dry so they’ll be ready for next week.” he moves the herbs to set baskets full of premade potions and potion ingredients on the counter for you.

“okay!” you chirp out before rushing to the bathroom to clean up. after scrubbing all the dirt from your fingernails you make your way back to the kitchen to start putting stuff away.

you mumbles the ingredients to yourself as you read the labels carefully, making sure you put them in the right spot. seungcheol was in one of the back rooms hanging up all the herbs to dry, giving you the whole kitchen to yourself. the longer you did things like this the more he trusted you to figure things out on your own - not being born into the same life as him. it was new adapting to all the magic he used in everyday life, but he made sure to take his time introducing you to everything.

while in the middle of rearranging some of the potions so you could add the new ones you heard quite scratches coming from the back door followed by whimpers. sighing quietly you set the small glass bottles down on the counter to go open the door, a shaggy black dog comes waltzing in with a backpack on its back.

“hi mingyu,” you smile as you watch the dog shift into a person who stands taller than your boyfriend. “i see jihoon let you out of your cage.”

“he did, and he sent me with offerings.” mingyu takes the backpack off and sets it gently on the table so he could pull out bundles of belladonna and a couple glass bottles full of a red liquid.

“is that blood?”

“from a vampire! so it stinks, be careful.” his nose crinkles in a cute way.

“do i even wanna know how he got it?” mingyu shrugs before it looks like a lightbulb went off in his head.

“oh!” he reaches back in the bag to pull out something covered in cloth. “this is very special so be extremely careful with it… ji might kill me if it breaks.”

“what is it?” you take it gently and unwrap the bottle, the handwriting was hard to read so the only thing you could read was ‘oil’.

“he wouldn't tell me but he said cheol would know what it was.” mingyu closes the backpack and throws it back over his shoulders. “speaking of, where is he?”

“the herb room, be careful going back there, the house is swamped with orders so there's boxes and ingredients everywhere.” mingyu nods his head and bids you a farewell, going to seek out his friend while being cautious of everything that's haphazardly stacked up in piles that reach the ceiling.

carefully you put the belladonna in a basket for seungcheol to deal with later, making sure to wash your hands extremely well you go back to putting everything where it belongs.

the vampire blood was almost powdery, but it moved like a liquid so it mesmerized you for a little bit, mingyu leaving out the back door snapping you out of your trance as you went back to your task.

“hey love,” you poke your head into the herb room, smiling as you watch seungcheol use his magic to levitate the herbs all around the room while also expanding the walls to make more room for everything. “where does this go?” you show him the bottle that had the mystery oil in it.

“is it from jihoon?” you hum in acknowledgment. “um, just put it with the other oils for now. i’ll deal with it later.” he tilts his head back to offer you a tired smile, his eyes flinching a little when his neck cracks.

“okay.” your voice is soft with worry but you still manage to smile back at him. “i’ll start dinner soon… how does soup sound?”

“sounds amazing.” he hums while he looks down at his herb book that’s floating off to his left before he sighs, rearranging some of the herbs after he read that they shouldn’t be mixed. quietly you back out of the doorway and close the door, leaving cheol to work in peace.

“put it with the oils?” you frown a little. “which oils though?” you sigh quietly figuring you wouldn't bother seungcheol anymore as you go to the bathroom where all the nonedible oils are kept. after mingyu consumed the oil from a non edible plant a while back seungcheol made the decision to put all nonedible oils in the bathroom where no one could eat them accidentally.

once you were back in the kitchen you hurriedly got back to putting everything away, wanting to get started on dinner early so you could get seungcheol to sit and relax for a little bit before he had to go out and set up all the water that needed to sit during the crescent moon.

there were some bottles you weren't able to put away because of the lack of space but that's something seungcheol could fix later with his magic. washing your hands again you got to work on lighting the stove, which still used fire but seungcheol needed it to be that way for him to properly cook some of his ingredients and potions. mumbling the ingredients of the soup to yourself you get everything ready and prepared while the fire gets roaring.

“we’re almost out of garlic.. i need to ask ji for some more later.” you make a mental note to text the garden witch later, even if he rarely touches his phone you hope he’ll send mingyu with some next time he makes a delivery.

“hey baby, do you know where the string is? i ran out and i have a couple more bundles to wrap and hang.” seungcheol comes up behind you while you stir the pot to hug you. he takes a big sniff of the air and groans quietly. “it smells good and i’m starving, when did you start?”

“it’ll be done by the time you are.” you giggled quietly as he kissed gently at your exposed neck. “i think we should have some more in the first drawer in the storage room.” he mumbles a quiet ‘thank you’ as he kisses your cheek before pulling himself away from your body. he also grabs the basket full of belladonna so he can dry it as well.

just like you predicted you finished dinner a couple minutes after seungcheol finished hanging everything and getting cleaned up. while you took your time to wash up, getting all the food and grime off from the day, seungcheol was setting the table - the bowls and cups floating in the air as he poured soup and drinks into them before setting them at their respective chairs.

“i was thinking,” you started talking when you entered the room. “after we finish eating I can give you a little message.” you smile at your boyfriend who looks at you with wide and curious eyes.

“oh?” his eyes follow you to your seat, his food untouched because he wanted to wait for you before he started eating.

“yeah, i noticed that you were flinching earlier when you were moving your head.” you pick up your spoon so you could take a sip of the broth that was still hot. “maybe i could help loosen up some of the muscles so its more comfortable for you to move.” seungcheol smiles wide, his dimples on full display as he watches the way you frown after burning your mouth on the broth.

“i’d love that.” he hums quietly before he eats a spoon full of the soup, the heat not really bothering him as much as he starts to scarf down his food.

“oh!” you jump out of your chair and rush back into the kitchen, the smell of the soup overpowered the bread you had baking in the oven and you almost forgot about it. “there's bread.” you bring the freshly baked bread out into the dining room, your boyfriend is quick to use his magic to levitate it out of your mitten clad hands.

“thank you baby.” he uses his magic to cut a couple slices for the both of you, levitating the knife to spread butter on them before setting them on your plates. while you both ate your dinner you talked about your days, most of which was spent preparing things for orders people had been putting in for potions and spells.

“i’ll clean up while you go get comfortable on the bed.” you give seungcheol a smile when you both finish eating.

“let me help you.” he stands up and uses his magic to pick up all the dishes, sending them to the sink where they land a little harshly - his excitement getting the best of him as he grabs your hand to drag you towards the bedroom. his magic was still doing work in the kitchen as he put all the food in the fridge.

“you're excited.” you giggle quietly as you watch him crawl onto the bed to lay on his stomach.

“of course i am, you're going to put your pretty little hands on my back.” he hums quietly. you couldn’t help the way your face heated up as you shake your head.

“take your shirt off for me, i'm gonna go get one of the message oils.” you’ve never seen your boyfriend move so quickly before as you watch his back muscles flex as he lays back down on his stomach, the tattoos on his back prominent under the dull light of the bedroom. you didn’t waste too much time going into the bathroom and grabbing one of the oil bottles, holding it under your shirt to help warm it up a little using your body heat.

“i know you want me to relax baby but i do have to be outside in the next two hours to make sure the water is in the moonlight for the longest time possible.” seungcheols voice is soft as you crawl onto the bed, sitting on top of your boyfriends ass as you hum quietly.

“i know love,” you smile gently, even though he couldn’t see it. you pull the bottle out from under your shirt and open it, a sweet but tangy scent hits your nose - it was pleasant but new, you don’t remember the scent but you shrug it off as it has been awhile since you’ve done this. “now relax.” you pour some of the red liquid onto your hands and rub them together, the color looked familiar but you couldn’t put your finger on it as you began to rub the shimmery oil into seungcheols skin. groaning quietly, seungcheol relaxed into the bed, his muscles screaming a little as you knead at his skin.

“feels good baby.” he mumbles as his eyes flutter closed, the tension beginning to leave his body the higher up his back you got. your hands would linger a little longer on the areas where his tattoos were, loving the way the specs of gold in the oil looked against the black ink.

“i’m glad it feels good.” you purr quietly as you put some more oil on your hands so you could rub at his shoulders. your hands began to tingle a little but you paid no attention to it as you messaged his shoulders, drawing louder groans from your boyfriend as you felt the knots in his muscles melt away under your fingers.

“what oil is this?” he mumbles after a couple minutes of silence. “the scent is new.. but familiar.” you shrug your shoulders before realizing he couldn’t see you.

“i don't know, but i think it's floral?” you bring one of your hands up to your nose to sniff at the oil, your head becoming a little light all of a sudden. “woah..” you whisper.

“where did the oil come from?” seungcheol groans quietly, this time in pain as he shifts under you.

“the cabinet?” you question quietly as you rub at his back again. “are you still in pain?”

“this is a different kind of pain.” he shifts under you again, his skin starting to heat up under your hands. “where did the oil come from before the cabinet baby?” you could tell his jaw was clenched as he held back another pained groan.

“um…” you fumble picking the bottle back up as you go to check the label, which is something you forgot to do before using it. you freeze as you stare at the label, jihoons horrible scribbling stared back as you as it finally dawned on you that you potentially just used something dangerous on your boyfriend. “jihoon..” you whisper.

“what?” your boyfriend's head tilts to the side as he tries to look at you behind him.

“it came from jihoon..” you gulp quietly, your hands starting to shake. “i’m so sorry cheol! i didn’t think about checking the label, the colors looked similar and i thought i grabbed the right one and now i just rubbed something into your back that could potentially ki-”

“hey,” he groans as he tries to roll over without knocking you off of him. “It's ok, it's not deadly.” he watches you through his hooded eyes as you shift around to sit on top of his lap where his cock was growing hard.

“what is it then?” your face heats up at the feeling of his bulge under your ass. you try to read the label again but give up as you lean over to set the glass bottle on the bedside table. seungcheol was quick in grabbing your hips to sit you back down on his lap after you set the bottle down. groaning quietly at the contact he closes his eyes, his jaw clenching again as he tries to focus on anything other than the pain in his body.

“it’s…” he takes in a deep breath, “its pure concentrated aphrodisiac oil.” he lets out the breath.

“what..” your eyes widen a little, you remember reading about aphrodisiacs in the book jihoon let you borrow.

“it’s for sex potions and spells..” his fingers dig into your hips. “and it's super strong.. even just the smell of it can make you horny when it's in this form.” he mumbles quietly.

“oh..” you gently set your hands on his bare chest, your fingers ghosting over his nipples that are rock hard causing him to groan loudly, his head falling back into the pillow deeper.

“please.. y/n..” he whimpers a little, his hips bucking up into yours causing you to jump forward a little, a quiet moan leaving you as you bite your lip.

“are you in pain right now because you're horny?” you mumble as you push your hips down into his as you grind against him, his own hips grinding with yours as he groans lowly.

“yes..” he was becoming breathless, his body already worked up enough to cum in his pants right then and there. there was enough aphrodisiac in seungcheols system to give him the sex drive of a bunny.

“do.. do you need something to help with it?” you try to keep a straight mind while you both helplessly grind against each other. “like an antidote or something..” you breathe out quietly.

“i don’t have any remedies made right now..” he groans as he bucks his hips up into yours hard. “i need to get off.” he almost whispers as his eyebrows furrowed together.

“can i help you get off?” you lean down to kiss gently at his jaw, nosing his cheek as he whines.

“only if you want to..” he stops his movements, his legs shaking as he tries so hard to open his eyes to look at you.

“i do want to help you,” you smile softly, moving your hands from his chest so you can fully lay on top of him, allowing you to grab his face. “besides, it would be a lot quicker with me here right?” he nods before he's rolling you two over so he's laying on top. he groans quietly in pleasure and pain, his hips instinctively rutting into yours.

“tell me when to stop.” he whispers against your lips before he kisses you deeply, his body rocking as he deeply rolls his hips into yours, his pants getting tighter than before. you both were desperately moaning into the others mouth as you sloppily made out with one another, the sexual tension becoming thicker the longer you two took to get naked.

‘cheol..” you manage to breathe out in between kisses, a needy whine escaping your lips when he nips at your tongue.

“what's wrong?” he mumbles as he trails his lips down your cheek and neck, sucking dark marks into his favorite places.

“it’s getting really hot..” you whisper while wiggling under his flaming hot body. one major side effect of the aphrodisiac is it makes the consumer really hot, almost like it mimics the body temperature that wolves and other animals experience during their heats.

“can i take your clothes off?”

“god yes.” you sit up along with him so he can pull your shirt off while using his magic to unclip and pull your bra off while he shimmies out of his own pants. you don't even get the drawstring of your pants undone before he’s pulling them off of you along with your panties. the cold air hitting your soaking hot cunt makes a shiver run down your spine and goosebumps rise up on your skin that seungcheol soothes away with his hands.

“i am going to devour you.” he groans as his warm hands trail down your legs, pushing them wide open so he can comfortably sit between them. he takes one of his hands to jerk his cock a couple times, his precum coating every inch of him. when you whimper quietly seungcheol doesn’t waste a second before he's lining up at your glistening hole. “are you sure you want this?”

“yes, please.” you were starting to sound like the desperate one here despite your boyfriend's pupils being blown with lust and his cock throbbing from all the aphrodisiac in his system. “give it all to me.” with that seungcheol pushes into your tight cunt inch by inch, his hands resting on the back of your thighs to keep them pushed wide open.

“fuck..” he groans lowly, your pussy clenching at the sound caused his hips to buck forward - his cock fully bottoming out. his fingers dig into your flesh and his jaw clenches while he waits for you to finish adjusting. when you give him the green light to start moving he doesn’t waste a breath before he's thrusting his hips.

he wanted to start slow, his muscles tense with restraint as he watches the way your head tilts back and your bottom lip disappears between your teeth. letting go of your thighs seungcheol leans his whole body over yours so he can rest his forearms on the bed on either side of your head, caging you against the bed. instinctively, your legs wrap tightly around his waist while your arms snake around his neck, your nails digging into his back as he starts to thrust harder and faster - his slow pace long forgotten as his only thought was to make you moan as loudly as possible while also getting you to cum before him.

“you feel so fucking good,” he grunts quietly as his hands grip onto the sheets tightly, his hips jackhammering into yours creating a loud squelching sound to echo throughout the room. “doing so fucking good for me, taking my cock like a good little whore.” your pussy clenches at his words causing him to fuck into you faster, the amount of slick you were creating made him slide in and out with ease.

your nails drag down his shoulders, dark red lines forming in their wake as seungcheol fucks you like theres no tomorrow. a shiver runs up your boyfriend's spine when you rake your nails over his tattoos, the skin puffing up a little but no blood spills out as you continue to mark him up.

‘keep doing that baby and i’ll cum.” he groans into your neck as he tries to will his fast approaching orgasm away.

“cum for me my love,” you purr quietly before whining when he hits your g-spot. seungcheol didn’t think twice before he was spilling his thick load into your cunt. despite being sensitive he continues to thrust into you. his cock is still painfully hard, all the aphrodisiac hadn’t been fucked out of his system yet. “let.. let me ride you.” you pant quietly, yelping when he rolls you two over so he was laying on his back again.

“ride me.” his voice dripped with dominance despite him letting you take over. once you were comfortable, your hands find purchase on seungcheols abdomen before you start to slowly bounce your hips. he groans lowly, his hips bucking up to jostle you around a little bit - the pace becoming too slow for him. biting your lip and digging your nails into his abs that flexed under your hands you pick up your pace, your hips slapping down against his harder as his cum leaked out onto his balls.

“so big,” you coo quietly, your moans turning into whines as your eyes roll and flutter a little. his cock twitched inside you as you clenched harder than before - your orgasm approaching quickly. “so full.”

“gonna fuck you even more full,” seungcheol groans as his hands find their way to your hips so he can help you bounce on his cock harder, the need to be as deep inside of you as possible becoming bigger by the second. “fill you with my cum till you're dripping with it for days.”

“please!” you moan loudly, your body jumping forward everytime his hips come up to meet yours.

“please what baby? fuck.” he almost growls when you clench around him, his cock twitching and his balls tightening as his orgasm threatens to wash over him.

“cum.. cum please, please!” you babble as you let your body collapse on top of his while he takes over in fucking into you again, his arms wrapping around your waist as he groans into your hair.

“you can cum baby,” he mumbles as he plants his feet on the bed to get a better and more stable angle. “cum all over my cock.” and just like that the coil in your stomach snaps and your orgasm washes over you as you squirt a little all over his cock.

“cheol!” you gasp and whine as he helped you ride out your orgasm, his second one washing over him as he unloaded his cum deep inside you.

the two of you lay there for a couple minutes, panting while you both come down from your highs. your lower half began to ache a little as you slowly sat up, whimpering at how sensitive you were as you gently pulled yourself from seungcheols semi hard cock.

“how do you feel?” you mumble as your hands rub at his chest, his quiet hums vibrating through your fingertips.

“less horny that's for sure.” he laughs quietly, his dimples popping out as he lazily looks at you through his lashes. “how do you feel? i wasn’t too rough with you, was i?” you shake your head.

“not at all, besides i love it when you get rough.” you shrug your shoulders as your hands gently message their way down his stomach, his muscles flexing before relaxing - a content sigh leaving him. “is all the aphrodisiac out of your system?” the lower your hands got on his body the harder his cock got again.

“i would say it is…” he watches you with dark eyes. “but it's hard to tell with your hands on me like that still.” he smirks at the sweet smile you give him.

“well you were still a little hard when i got up.” you crawl backwards slowly till your head is positioned right above his cock. “so maybe you still need my help.”

“i’ll never turn down your help baby.” he breathes out, gasping when your fingers wrap around the base, your fingertips almost touching. you jerk him off a couple times before you stick your tongue out to kitten lick at the head, the tip of your tongue swirling around his slit causing him to hiss and buck his hips up. giggling quietly you decide that teasing him could wait another night as you slowly lower your head, taking inch by inch until you couldn’t take anymore.

“fuck,” your chest swells with pride at being able to make him sound so fucked out. slowly you start to bob your head, your hand wrapped around the part you didn’t get shoved down your throat yet. “mouth feels so good.” his groans were like music to your ears as you picked up the pace.

considering he was already sensitive and overstimulated from the oil and his first two orgasms, his third climax wasn't far off. his legs began to tense up a little the closer it got causing you to use both your hands to soothe at his legs while you worked on deep throating him. after a little bit of effort you were able to nestle him nicely down your throat as he began to buck his hips up, fucking your throat as he chased after his next orgasm.

“y/n!” he moans, his orgasm washing over him like a tidal wave as he cums down your throat and all over your mouth. swallowing every last bit of cum you make sure to kiss your way back up his body, giggling when he laughs quietly. “you’re amazing, you know that?” he whispers right before you kiss him on the lips, his tongue instantly exploring every inch of your mouth as he tastes himself on your tongue.

“you’re amazing too.” you whisper before kissing him again, this time softer. after pulling away from one another, seungcheol slowly sits up carefully so he doesn’t head butt you.

“lets go get cleaned up.” he stands up and stretches, groaning as the bones in his back pop. you can't help but drool a little at the muscles in his back, they flex so deliciously as he stretches his arms out and the black ink mixed with the deep red scratch marks was making your head dizzy. when he was done seungcheol picked you up gently to carry you to the bathroom where he ran you two a hot bath - making sure to put the correct soap and oils into the water so you can get the maximum relaxation effect.

“not to alarm you or anything but its almost ten thirty.” you hum quietly as you relax deeper into the water while using seungcheols chest as your backrest.

“seven hours minimum is needed for the crescent moon water.” he mumbles against your neck as he relaxes with you. “as long as i'm out and setting up the water by eleven it’ll be fine.”

“you better not be out there all night.” you mumble already knowing he won't be joining you in bed later until sunrise.

“i'll try baby.” he laughs quietly when you grumble out a quiet ‘bullshit’ before sitting up to grab your shampoo wanting to hurry up and get out so that seungcheol can attend to his water and you can go to bed (where you’ll one hundred percent pout until your boyfriend comes to join you). “i love you.” he coos, smiling when he notices how hard you're trying not to smile as you lather shampoo into yours then his hair.

“i love you too..” you mumble, finally giving in and offering him a smile as you helped rinse his hair out. “but you better come to bed tonight, or i’ll strap you to it tomorrow.” he laughs quietly as he grabs your hips so he can pull you close enough for him to kiss the tip of your nose.

“i’ll come to bed tonight baby, i promise.” and he did keep his promise, after spending two hours setting everything up and making sure it was all protected properly he crawled into your guys bed where he proceeded to lay on top of you like a cat (and even if he was up a couple hours later putting the water away before the sun came out you couldn’t complain too much about his lack of sleep since he did keep his promise, and he took a nap later that day per your request while you took care of some of the potion making that didn’t require magic).

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#svthub #svthub.collab #the story of pink eros collab #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #seungcheol x reader #witch!seungcheol #tw food

1K notes · View notes

kth1fics · 10 months

Text

Safe Haven (M) | PJM

Safe Haven

⟶ Pairing: Park Jimin x Female Reader ⟶ Genre: royalty, smut, 18+ ⟶ Tropes: forbidden love au, medieval royal au, royal king’s guard werewolf!jimin ⟶ WC: 16.2k+ ⟶ Warnings: mild birth scene mention (hardly any details!), mentions of d*ath, brief fighting/attacking descriptions, blood mentions, hair pulling (when attacked), weapons mentioned, poison/venom mention, random side character d*aths, soft pining, kisses, fingering, oral (f), unprotected sex, etc ⟶ Beta: Sarah bean! @caelesjjk ⟶ Summary: When a wolf protects the royal family for many years, he’s faced with one special princess who he’ll do anything for. ⟶ Author’s Note: Apart of the “To Love a Monster” collab! I took a long while to get this fic out – and I am sorry for those who have been waiting for it. It may take me months to write and readers minutes to read, but I do hope that this fic holds a special place in someone’s heart in the end! Please enjoy & leave some feedback if you have the time! ⟶ Song Recommendation: Bound to You by Christina Aguilera

Masterlist ◈ Mail Box ◈ AO3 ◈ Ko-Fi

Freshly welcomed into the King’s Guard, Jimin, a sprouting young wolf, rushes around the corridors of the castle to obey the barking orders of his higher-ups. Making haste, all servants and guards make their purpose of assisting the Queen.

“Hurry!” Hoseok, another royal guard and close friend to Jimin, shuffles through the utility room. “Gather more cloth!”

“Aren’t people usually more prepared with things like this?” Jimin frantically follows, his voice rushed with the fast pace movements.

“I’m afraid not,” Hoseok huffs a laugh.

The two younger royal guards speedily ransack each drawer and closet until their arms are full of materials. They stumble back down the hall towards the birthing chamber. A room enclosed for the parties who participate with the anticipated arrival of the next royal kin. A domestic, darkened room provided with the country's softest furnishings. Royal officials and servants are permitted to be within the room for the delivery to ensure that there are no scandals around the birthing practice.

A midwife places herself before the legs of the Queen. A moan of pain rips from her Highness’s throat. Jimin and Hoseok stand idly as the birthing of child number three crowns at the entrance of the world, preparing to gain its first breath of fresh air. The scene is natural for humans, even more common for a royal to carry out in front of an audience.

For Jimin, he prefers not to stare like the others. His polished amber eyes trail to the lines of the floorboards, using any peripheral view for his advantage.

“It’s a girl!” He hears the cries from a newborn baby, the declaration announced by the midwife who’s wiping off residue from the infant.

Placed on the chest of her mother, the newest child of the royals whines freely. The sound rings through the ears who listen. The King is joyous, regardless of being unable to create a proper heir to his throne. But with the first two daughters – and now third, the royal guards know his Highness will move quickly in trying for a son.

Servants flutter about, handling the delicacies of aftercare for childbirth. Jimin follows after his friend, handing off the pile of cloth to a maiden. Bodies move around another like an assembly line.

For a moment, and only a moment is needed, did Jimin finally take a swift glance at the newborn who screams her upset. He locks eyes with the infant over the shoulder of Hoseok, seeing a warmth of an everlasting hearth as she cries wet droplets down her face.

Then it happened.

Jimin is struck with something that is indescribable. Something that couldn’t be defined. He’s heard through stories and lores within his lineage that this phenomenon could happen to anyone at any time in one's life. He hears about it through those he’s close to and those who experience it. It’s a once in a lifetime deal.

He can feel the shift of his weight when he locks eyes with the newborn baby. As if this new formed motion represents an outstanding astronomical level. Where his world, which once revolved around the Sun as it does for everyone, now revolves around this small, fragile child.

Jimin’s heartbeat thumps in his ears as the world freezes around him. Hoseok and the other royal wolf guards all sense a change in the wind. If it isn’t Hoseok ushering him out of the way of the other servants and departing out of the chamber, he’s sure the royal family would have done it themselves.

With his head on a silver platter.

Hoseok’s palm slaps the side of Jimin’s cheek to gain his consciousness from whatever daze he’s fumbled in. It takes him a few good taps before Jimin blinks. His blood runs rampant inside him with warmth and excitement.

The second Jimin looked at the third child of the royal household, everything changed within him. All of a sudden, nothing else matters. The yearning of knowing and willing to do anything, be anything, for her is the only constant demand singing at the back of his head.

“You didn’t,” Hoseok’s hushed tone stays low. “Not a royal!”

“How am I supposed to control that?” Jimin stresses. “I can’t choose who this happens to! I didn’t expect this to happen to me!” He runs a hand through his soft hair, exhaling sharply as his mind begins to race.

“You’re going to learn,” Hoseok claims. His eyes are sharp and narrow. “You will learn to control it. A wolf is not allowed to be mixed with a royal. They’ll kill you.”

His imprint will be kept secret from the royals and the precious baby girl. But for his wolf mates, each of them knows the severity of the situation. Not one member will speak of it, they only can respect it. As for Jimin, he’ll spend the rest of her life – your life – being what you need him to be. A friend, a brother, a protector. Whatever you require of him, he will act accordingly in secrecy while obeying his rightful duties to the royal throne.

White flurries fall slowly from the gray clouds above, decorating the large courtyard, you look down towards the sheet of fresh snow. Most of the garden that blooms the most gorgeous flowers is now a mess of dead plants and weeds. The bare trees stand firm. But those who stand strong in the winter months like hollies with red berries and camellias, continue to stand out next to the beauty of sheared evergreens and deciduous shrubs with colorful stems.

Your eyes are not trained on admiring the bright snow that cascades from the sky so beautifully. Normally you would. As you sit by your glass window with a blanket around your shoulders, you look down from your chambers on the third level of the castle to fancy something different.

Men – some of the royal guards – play around with one another in the cold weather. Some have shifted to their wolven form, others remain in their noble suits. The one you fixate your stare on is your personal guard, Jimin.

He stands leaning against the stone staircase beside a few of his equals. Chatting away about who knows what, watching the others roughhouse. Jimin is quite handsome, he always has been. For as long as you can remember he’s looked the same, minus the fluctuation of hair styles and added tattoos that linger his body and a few added battle scars.

As a guard he wears your family's sigil proudly – a lotus flower – on each of his articles of clothing. Customized into each of the guards’ crested plates of metal armor and sewn into each leather hide.

Jimin possesses the unfair mix of unlimited masculine and feminine traits, having a soft-looking composure and full lips plus a sharp jawline and toned muscles. His voice is nearly angelic when speaking in hushed tones but also stern as ever when he leads with his strong confidence. He may not be as large as his fellow wolves, but he’s proven himself countless times to your family to have the privilege to be your personal guard. There’s nobody quite like him; no one you’ve met in your life that is.

You commend him in silence, appreciating what you can watch from afar. Even from a distance behind a glass window, he somehow manages to make your heart race. An infatuation some may call it. A yearning. He and your family have been consistent in your life, he’s comfort – as are they. But you knew from a young age, from when you began favoring Jimin’s company over others, that you need to call it ‘nothing’. Because whatever feelings that spin deep inside you are never to be spoken aloud. It’s foolish for your Kingdom, family, and you to long for a wolf who doesn’t see you as anything but a duty.

What’s more disappointing is that you don’t need to admit these infuriating feelings to Jimin, he already knows. He would never allow it to get far by cutting you short and being curt with clipped words and disapproving looks.

He is a wolf and you are a royal. Two beings who have no business intertwining besides with loyalty to the family and the job of a guard. Your acquaintanceship between another is only going to be professional. Perhaps it’s to keep the bloodline pure, untainted. How every sibling of the family is betrothed to a neighboring kingdom, growing the alliance across countries. And not one of them has a blend of wolf’s blood in them. Even though werewolves are evident in the world around you.

“Aren’t you supposed to get ready for the party tonight?” A maid who's making your bed quips up as you're daydreaming down into the evergreen.

“I’ve been stuck on deciding which dress I should wear.”

“No, you’ve been stuck staring out into the courtyard,” she corrects.

You slump in your seat as you stubbornly hold your position by the window. When you look back down, you admire the off-brown and black tones of that particular wolf you fancy. She isn’t wrong, you know. His kind eyes and kind smiles make you feel warmth like no other, and you enjoy seeing them when you gain the chance.

“I can multitask,” you feebly argue. You drag the blanket tighter around your shoulders, keeping in the warmth of your body as much as possible. “Besides, the party isn’t for a few more hours.”

“Princess, you already have guests arriving. Half the guard is at the entrance welcoming the parties who show up early. Let’s not begin to mention how several potential suitors are arriving today. You’ve failed to marry even when betrothed. Such a shame what happened with the Jeon family.”

“I prefer not to be a royal. It doesn’t feel right the way we work,” you sigh as the joyful wolves down below have fun while you’re stuck in your tower with envy. “Can we braid my hair the way we did at my Aunt’s wedding? It cascaded down beautifully.” You speak while staring out of the window, purposely ignoring the heavier topic your maid mentions. “I’ll go with the silver dress. That one that comes with the gorgeous fur shawl.”

You notice the way that Jimin has suddenly turned to look up toward your window, half expecting to see you through the glass. Even in the midst of his comrades, he finds a way to give you an ounce of attention. He shakes his head momentarily, already scolding you without knowing what you’re supposed to be doing. Jimin knows looking for him isn’t on your agenda, you purposely put him there.

“For me to do that,” – you hear the voice of your maid – “I need you to get out of your chair and into your washroom.”

A small frown carves into your face when Jimin circles his finger in the air and directs you to turn around, go back to your business. He knows he’s escorting you tonight at the party, you will see him later. To make his point come across sternly, he disassociates his eye contact – bringing his attention back to his other peers and away from you.

“Princess,” your maid bids you once again.

Reluctant to leave your post at the window, you stand up regardless. You have a long night ahead of you while the castle starts to fill up with guests for your younger brother’s birthday party.

You can’t be bothered with the chattering staff or the nuisance of guests who flutter around the halls of your family’s castle. Each moment you find open to run away, to a quieter place and away from their eyes, you take it. Swiftly moving left and right until you can find your favorite spots to hide since you were a child.

One of which happens to be past the hallway of family portraits. If you travel far enough you find yourself at a dead end. With cabinets, paintings, and curtains outlining every inch of the stone walls. Torches are lit to illuminate the surrounding areas, bringing light to the beautiful surroundings.

But little do most know, that behind painting number two – the one in the golden frame with green shrubbery and a little boy playing the flute – lies a secret behind it. You just need to get here without anyone seeing you sneak in. There’s no point in a secret hideout if you accidentally show it to other guests.

You wait for the time, seeing when that end of the hall becomes vacant and people rush toward the call of the buffet lines. The small talk you make with a few distant relatives is only an act, pretending to walk along with them but slipping away when you find your moment to.

Pressing lightly, the nook of a room behind the large painting greets you. It’s closet sized, filled with a few pieces of your past and littered in dust from lack of touch. Tarps are draped over unused furniture; you’re thankful that this hideout is never really used. The painting that acts as a door allows you a small peeping eyehole to look out and judge when you can come out.

The silver dress you picked for tonight's gathering is a smart choice for you; you’re able to sit down comfortably without restriction. You love the look of a free-flowing gown, falling nicely with the way you walk. Patting off a layer of dust from a chair, you’re able to seat yourself as you take an old notebook in your hand.

Small doodles linger on the pages, all drawn by your younger self. You remember each of them, no matter how terrible they may look. It’s how you pass time while hiding in here. The low lighting from the cracks of the portrait gives you most of your light source, and occasionally you will add flame to the candle that rests on the top of the desk beside you.

You scowl at the dried black ink next to the quill pen, the feather beaten up and torn. It’s been years since you’ve last touched it. Maybe browsing through all the pages of your books won’t be so bad as you loiter in your small den.

“Princess Y/n.”

A spark of panic zaps through you like lightning in the sky on a stormy day. Surprised by the voice of none other than Jimin, your personal royal guard. You watch as fingers curl around the edge of the portrait-door and a beautiful, yet stern, face peeks through. His amber eyes catch you as they squint at your mischievous behavior.

“I knew you would be hiding somewhere.” He comments as he pushes himself through the opening and into the room. Jimin wears the guards festive wear, a beautiful pink etched coat with cream leather hide armor. He’s sure to close the door behind him; he’s more stealthy than you can ever be. “Are you upset?”

“No,” you turn your head back to the book in your hands. The weight of his gaze on you is nearly suffocating. “I simply wanted solitude.”

“You know you are to be returned. They’re calling upon your brother shortly for his ceremony. It’s a big event for him,” his tone is low but he maintains a soft tenor to it. Jimin is far too kind toward you even though he’s meant to be a guard and nothing more. His exterior has toughened over the years, as it should to fill his part. Although, the sweeter half of him sticks out to you and perhaps that’s what you’ve held onto all these years.

“Sadly, I know.” You shut your eyes and sigh heavily, “I’m not quite in the celebratory mood. I would much prefer to be in my chambers.”

“That’s selfish of you.” Jimin’s hand comes to take away your book, placing it on the desk where it belongs. He bends down to level his face with yours. “You should be happy for your brother, he’s of age to carry out duties now. To be what he needs to be. Something you should understand.”

You hear the underlying hint Jimin gives you. He’s softly scolding you, as usual.

At first you say nothing in response. Downcasting your eyes to your empty hands as you think what can be said to counter him, but you draw nothing.

You’re the third child in the family of four. A role where you feel invisible and forgotten. Always having second bests and hand-me-downs. Once your brother, who is a few years younger than you, sprouted from the womb of your mother – all chances of your favor flew out the window. As a male in this royal world is keen, any daughter is denied the spotlight. But you never craved a place to rule, or to do what a princess must do. Your oldest sister, the most responsible one of all, desires that for herself. You see it in the way she presents herself. Aces every test and diplomacy role she is given.

The second oldest is the fairest, she didn't need to do much to gain the popularity or attention she is given. It comes so unfairly natural to her thanks to the outstanding looks she’s been blessed with. A privilege only few and far between are given. Life for her is as simple as breathing, all she needs to do is point and ask.

Your younger brother is everything that your father waited for. Of course, your father, the King, treats all his children with love and passion. Keeps you sheltered, fed, and protected. However, the moment he received a bouncing baby boy – that tears any favoritism away from you or your sisters. A male has an unfair advantage in the royal family, it’s just how the world is.

“Princess –”

“– I know,” you unwillingly stand up from your chair. Jimin straightens himself as well, taken aback by your swift movement. “I want to retire after his ceremony,” you say curtly.

You take a single step toward the door as your hand reaches out to push against it, Jimin’s hand grabs your wrist gently, like catching a delicate rose. Softly, he lowers your arm down as he steps before you with a concerned look on his face. His eyes search for signs of distress on your face.

“You’re upset,” he affirms.

“Nothing works in my favor,” you address with a choleric tone. Anger isn’t something you want resting on the surface, but it’s leaking out of the seams of your composure. “Sometimes, I truly despise being a royal daughter.”

You stare at the digits wrapped around your wrist, noticing how Jimin hasn’t let go of you yet. It feels cruel how you wish there was more meaning to the contact. Why can’t he hold you the way you long for him to?

Your eyes meet his with confusion and sadness. The pretty amber color still stands out in the low lighting, they’re beautiful to stare at. But you can’t read what’s going on in his mind.

Jimin feels your sadness. He is connected to you deeply, little do you know. You can never know. It’s safer this way. Slowly, he releases your wrist letting his fingertips be the last thing that brushes against your skin. He can only comfort you so much without overstepping his boundaries. If he capsizes every time you give him those hopeless eyes, he’ll lose his placement in the guard and lose you indefinitely.

“Please,” he breathes, “We must go.”

Jimin pushes the hatch open steadily, peering out through the eyehole to make sure the coast is clear to sneak back into the festivities. He leaves space between the two of you as you walk side-by-side.

Silent tension surrounds you as your heels click with every step you take. There’s a dullness in your eyes, a lack of enthusiasm the closer you approach the center of the party. The amount of people here drains you even as you wear a kind smile.

Your little brother’s coronation will go quickly, you hope. Jimin’s words resound in your head, causing you to reflect on what he said.

“That’s selfish of you.”

You make your way to your designated chair at the family table quietly. The talks and commotions between the castle’s guests, family from far and wide, don’t phase you as you blur out the noise. The red liquid poured graciously in a chalice beside you becomes your saving grace; your delicate fingers grasp the cup and run over the smooth jewels embedded on the sides.

Your eyes find Jimin’s across the crowded room as he stands on guard near one of the walls. His hand rests over the handle of his sword casually, a weapon they choose first before shifting as a last resort. He can read the longing in your eyes with a mix of desperation and gloom.

You wait to see his expected disapproving look. The one that tells you to pay attention to something else other than him – but you don’t. He stuns you confused as, instead of his typical stern look, he looks down at the ground. Deep in thought.

Are you truly selfish when nobody around you is selfless?

Your chamber is a sanctuary. Filled with all the necessities you need to live like royalty. An abundant amount of candles have been lit to brighten the room, giving it a soft aura.

You wear your hair down, untied from the tight braids you wore for the majority of the night. Your nightgown, cream in color and silk to the touch, is loose in all the right places. The ceremony took its time as you waited to retire for the night with the little patience you have left. You’re positive plenty of men are still celebrating at their feast.

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

A loud thud shakes the doors to your room, a verbal grunt can be heard. You look over at your maid who does the same as she slowly walks toward the noise. There's a scurry of traffic beyond your door as the two of you try to make out the words that are being shouted. You take a step with her, but with that single step you catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye. Through the window you see a flash of red light. Smoke rises as pieces of the garden have been lit to flame. Upon closer inspection, you peer down your window into the once beautiful scenery to find brawls of fights. Men fighting enemies with swords, crossbows and guns.

Another thump hits the outside of your chamber’s doors and you twist your head to see your maid inches away from the handle, ready to pull.

“Don’t!” You turn frantic to shout at her.

But it is too late. Your maid already has her hand twisting the handle to pull the door open. But a force pressed the door faster than she anticipated – a body of a man standing guard slumped against the doorframe and now falling to the floor. A wound across his neck as blood smears across your family’s sigil on his leather chest plate.

Both you and your maid screech at the sight as you back away from the door. You can hear the commotion louder now as bodies rush past the halls as they run away from the intruders.

“Hide!” Your maid shoos you quickly and frantically while her first attempt of shutting your chamber’s door fails.

You’re not given a moment to think before you watch as two ruffians walk up to the door, one holding a flamed torch and a hand dagger as the other holds a handgun. They’re dirty from appearance, wearing torn up clothes but come armed with weapons that look like they belong to someone wealthy. They smile evilly, curling their lips at the sight of you as they advance on your maid.

“There’s a royal,” one comments in a ghoulish tone. They step over the body below them like it’s a fallen tree trunk. They laugh among each other, giggling at whatever is playing on in their minds. You definitely do not wish to know.

Your maid twists away, hoisting her skirt up high enough to let her legs lounge as she begins to run toward you. It provokes one of the men, making him chase her immediately as he finds it funny to stalk her. Threaten her with the slices he mimics with his dagger in the air.

Slowly, your feet have backed up along the path of your room. You make sure you keep as much furniture between you and the intruders. Your eyes remain open wide, trying so hard not to blink and miss any sudden movements.

You feel small compared to the man’s stature as he creeps closer and closer to you. Hectically, your hands reach around the tops of dressers and tables to find anything to use as a weapon. A letter opener? A pen? Anything to defend yourself from whoever these men are who impose your safe space.

More screams and shouts can be heard throughout the castle halls and outside. The place is being run down with bandits, unknown persons who you cannot identify from first glance. They wear close to all black attire, worn down from several years. Protected by pads and suitable armor, as if they collected stolen pieces and placed them together.

You hold your arms closer to your body with the heat of the males heavy gaze on you. His eyes look bloodshot as he studies your options of escape.

“Come here little royal,” he sneers while his beaten up boots scuff across the floor.

Your maid is chased across the wall, quickly making her way toward you as the other man follows her like a hunter. Herding his prey together before they set to kill.

They rush the two of you, forcing you to nearly trip over your own feet as your gown betrays you while you step on the very end of it. A small rip of fabric resounds but you’re in too much of a haste to notice from where.

Your maid screams in horror as you yell out for help. Your bodies fumble across the expanse of your chamber’s, trying to find the opportunity to rush out of the door if you can. To escape the men who run after you.

Where are the rest of your guards? What is happening and why are your werewolf guards not attacking? Who are these men and what do they have to attack the castle with? In all your years on this planet, you’ve never been caught in a situation like this. No intruder has ever made it past the front gates until now.

A knife is thrown in your direction, missing you but landing straight into the wall beside your head.

“Oops, guess I need to try that again,” you hear the male speak with malicious intent.

The other has gained enough momentum to grab your maid, pull her in as she struggles to fight him off. He’s rough, holding her arms as he pushes her against the wall. You're already rushing to her side, using your fists to hit the man on his arm and back.

“Get off of her!” you bawl, throwing your fist at him as fast as possible.

A hand grips your hair, yanking you back away from the two and onto the closest table. Your back hits the surface hard as the man presses you down. He threatens you with a dagger pointed at your face as his other hand holds you down by your shoulder.

The brute force immediately makes your eyes water as you stare up at the man in fear. You wrap your hands around his wrists to push him off, holding him off for as long as you can. Your kicks and screams do nothing to phase him, only fuels him.

You feel his hand slide to your throat; latch his ugly, dirty fingers around your neck. It’s brief, like a flash of lightning. But just as soon as he repositions himself, an arrow shoots straight into his head. Visibly shaken, you struggle to process the vicious man above you losing the life he has.

Your efforts of pushing begin to work as his lack of strength weakens by the second. A final push, not made by you – but from your personal guard, Jimin, knocks the man entirely off of you. He’s quick, already primed and prepped to shoot the other ruffian the second he turns away from your maid and to see his comrade passed out on the floor. Jimin launches another arrow with a flick of his finger, a perfect shot.

Both ruthless and merciless men seem to be dead, fallen to the floor of your chamber’s as pools of blood leak from their bodies.

You and your maid tremble in fear and anxiety. Frightened at the series of events and how the two of you were nearly brutally attacked.

Jimin wears streaks of blood across his face as his hair falls out of place. His beautifully tailored festive armor is now beaten and destroyed with stains. You look at him with confusion and anguish as reality sets in.

“Jimin,” you cry out in a broken sob. Your throat tightens and feels as if it’s being pricked by a dozen thorns while your hand runs up to touch the area where the man laid his fingers on.

“I’m sorry,” are the first words out of his mouth. Solemn and saddened. But he’s relieved to be here for you, even if he is cutting it short and close to being a second too late.

It isn’t his fault the castle has been blindsided and an evil group has snuck their way inside its walls and started a reign of terror. But he takes blame for not being at your side every second that he should have been. Instead, he rushed to the frontlines once called upon. Tried to stop the invasion from penetrating deeper into the castle.

In most cases this strategy works, but unfortunately tonight – it doesn’t.

But as the fighting continues and larger groups of people begin rushing in from all areas of the castle – equipped with tainted metals containing mountain ash and wolfsbane – the royal guards are not as prepared. A minor setback, yet it almost costs your life.

“I came as soon as I could,” he steps closer to you with sympathetic eyes. He’s hurt, more worried about how you are as he feels your dread and fear. “I’m so sorry.”

There’s still many battles being fought throughout the castle. People being slayed as guards protect as much as they can. Jimin helps you stand straight, holding you close to him as he’s escorting both your maid and you out of your chamber’s.

“Jimin,” you repeat as you hold onto him, wrapping your hands desperately around him. “Who are they?”

He brings the two of you deeper into your chamber, rushing you to a secret doorway that leads to a hidden passage. Your castle is littered with these; most guards know several entrances but not a lot of exits. It’s a maze down there; dark, cold, and gloomy as well. As a child, you would wander through some just to see how far you could reach without cowering out.

“They must be from the South. They’re fighting with wolfsbane. Their weapons are laced with it.”

It’s common knowledge that wolfsbane is rare near these grounds. It’s ordinary for them to grow down South, but they can be imported. Your family is known for being guarded by werewolves; so an attack like this must be heavily planned.

“Remember the passageways?” Jimin grunts as he pushes both you and your maid toward a panel against the wall. It’s colored like an archway, but the third one can be open with a twist of a lever. Specifically the sconce hanging to the left of it. “I need you to escape through them.”

You hear the falter in Jimin’s voice momentarily, how he sounds like he staggered his breath.

“Are you hurt?” You ask alarmingly. Your eyes frantically scan over his exterior, looking for any noticeable signs of a wound.

“Princess, I need you to go through the passageways,” he turns the lighting fixture swiftly. The secret door clicks open, a cool gust of air puffs through and hits against your skin. “Don’t worry about me. I need to protect you and the rest of your family.”

Your maid understands, already stepping through as she’s pulling you with her. Jimn is a guard, he needs to go and maintain his duty. Your maid is a servant – she is here to assist you until she can no longer. She begs you to step quickly, down the stone stairs into the pit of the passages.

“Jimin, no!” You grip tighter on his forearm as he tries to shrug you off of him. Blood tarnishes your cream colored nightgown as you’re pulled away from Jimin. It must be from those Jimin has fought already. “Come with me!”

Jimin takes your chin in his hand and inspects the distress on your face. Even when rushed, worried about your safety and life, he looks at you like he’s lost in your eyes. The gentle touch of his fingertips feels serene, featherlight even though they’re calloused through the years of combat.

He’s moving you back into the passageway, gripping the door with his other hand to shut it on you when the moment comes. There’s displeasure spilling out of him only because he is infuriated by the way you stubbornly won’t see the concern for yourself.

“I need to protect the family. This is me protecting you,” he speaks sternly. “Please listen to me, princess,” he exhales slowly. His eyes flicker across your features with tenderness, “I am not losing you. Use the passageways,” he reminds you. “Exit at the stables. I will meet you there. You know which way to go?”

You stare at him dumbfounded at first. Like time is slowing down, but you cannot shake the feeling that you won’t see him again. You don’t feel convinced.

“B-But –”

“Go!” Jimin practically growls out his demand to you. In an instant, his amber eyes shine with a blue ring around his irises. It’s the first time Jimin has ever used that timbre with you, making you jolt away with shock.

He warns you to watch your step and stay on the correct path toward the stables. Keep close to your maid and stay quiet. He rips off his cavalier shoulder cape, draping it around your shoulders to keep you warm as you descend into the chilly pathways. Jimin closes the door promptly, forcing you to turn with your maid and to escape to safety. Your heart ricochettes inside your chest, pounding erratically as you rush.

Throughout the narrow hallways, dripping with leaking water spouts and cobwebs, you hear the signs of savage wolf growls and barks as your royal guard begin shifting as their last resort. Cries of pain and fighting scare you further as you follow the lead of your maid, wondering how you’ll survive what comes ahead. The thin slippers still on your feet dampen with every hurried step you take as you hold Jimin’s cape tighter against your frame to stay as warm as possible.

“I am not losing you,” replays inside your head and inside your heart.

Moonlight shines from above as your maid cracks open a hardened rock exitway. You came across many forks in the maze of the castle's passageways, but you remember from your past the correct ways to take. The two of you are at the stables, you can smell the mixture of horse and hay in the air. The area is unhit from the onslaught of violence for now.

“Shall we take a horse?” Your maid suggests as she creeps behind a bundle of stacked hay.

“Jimin said he’ll meet us here,” you remind her.

The chill of the outside runs straight through your body. You curse to yourself at your poor choice of attire.

Together, the two of you watch the distance of all the violence. You see bloodshed with many reinforcements coming from every side of the castle. The thought of Jimin being caught in this mess sends a shiver down your spine. Wolves – your family's guards – have shifted to their creature form. They’re larger than any wild wolf; standing on all four limbs taller than most humans.

They’re very swift at responding to the attackers, taking them out one by one. But you know the attackers are fighting against them with poisonous tactics – an advantage to go against such beasts. With these weapons, the werewolves near invulnerability, speed, and strengths are weakened once hit with the toxins. You can already witness it with a few of your guards.

“We’re still inside the castle walls, Princess. We need to get out of here fast,” she insists. Her eyes scan around for an opening, an escape route for the two of you. You’ll have to be fast.

“He knows we are here!” You yell at her in a hushed tone. “I’m not leaving unless it’s with –”

Just as you attempt to finish your sentence, the loud sound of wood snapping through the entrance door interrupts you. Men rush in, manically screaming in an uproar as the flames of their torches begin touching the fodder in the stables. Setting the straw ablaze in a matter of seconds.

You and your maid slouch back into a corner, away from view for as long as you can. Horses neigh with anger, jumping and kicking as the brightness and heat of fire creeps toward them. You cannot fathom the thought of losing these beautiful warhorses as they’re each tied to their own box.

“Release them,” you whisper to your maid before you frantically get up from your position and reach for the first horse.

Your soft hands flick up the lever to the wooden door, opening it up for the horse to run through and stumble toward the exit of the stables.

The maid begs you to stay hidden, but you refuse with stubbornness. In the same breath, you hear a shriek from her as you are in the midst of lifting another lever. The attackers have noticed her and shortly spot you as well.

She looks at you with panic, “Run!”

In seconds, she is being grabbed once again by these aggressors. Forced down with a hard shove as she hits the ground. You shout, scream, and cry at the men who flock over toward her. A pitchfork near you is the first thing you see to use as a weapon. Surely you can scare someone off with the points of the tines.

A bellowful growl grows from a stampede of three wolves bursting onto the scene. They’re far too fast for your eyes to keep up, seeing flashes of their fur dashing around you to strike your attackers. Their teeth bare as they snarl and bite into the flesh of the men, claws digging through the fabrics and skin.

One wolf is nearly all black, slicked fur making it shine in the night. Another has a warm russet color, speckled with hues of beige but warm under the ember of the fires around you. The last wolf is your wolf – you know him far too well. Brighter shades of light brown are in his face as the rest of his pelt darkens into a deep dark, chocolate color. His amber eyes, now sparked with blue, casts over to you briefly as he takes out an enemy, his paw stepping hard against his chest and pressing down.

It’s like whiplash with how fast the royal guards cleared out the stables as the fire consumes the fixtures around you. Smoke fills the air, rising heavily as thick clouds form. Pieces of the loft areas begin to break and fall as the other roped up horses huff and puff.

The stark black wolf is the one lifting your maid off the ground as it nudges her. She’s wounded, you can tell as red covers the fabric of her left arm. You take a step toward her, wanting to console and help – but in return you are barked at by Jimin. He rushes toward you, his speed frightening you as you backpedal away from the area. He stares hard at you, growling in a low tone as ashes fall behind him.

He’s moving you away, wanting you out of the area. The other two wolves bark in his direction, some form of communication you cannot understand as Jimin glances back and responds with his own call.

The russet colored wolf jumps toward Jimin as you watch your maid latch onto the black fur of the other. She gives you a sympathetic look, mouthing the words ‘get out of here’ to you.

A large beam from above falls and crashes in the middle of the stables, breaking other fixtures in its path. Ember’s rise from the burning building with a massive gust of wind as you turn your face away from the crash.

“Jimin!” You cough as your arms shield you. Your eyes tickle in pain from the smoke, the fire’s brightness doesn’t help either.

You can feel the brush of fur against you as a heavy body presses into your front. You smell the wilderness immediately as you fall forward, burying your face and arms into Jimin’s coat. He nudges you with his shoulder and a grunt. Somehow able to understand what he’s saying.

Quickly, you pull yourself up along his back like one would do for a horse. Your face remains embedded into his fur as you wrap your arms around his neck, hooking your fists onto his coat to anchor yourself.

You move with the russet colored wolf as he clears out the path ahead of you and Jimin. Taking down any attacker standing in the path to escape. It’s difficult to hold onto a wolf, feeling your limbs tighten around Jimin as hard as you possibly can just to stay on top as he dashes through the terrain.

His goal is to get you out of here safely, remove you from the premises. He brings you farther and farther away from the castle and closer to the woods. The last glimpse you dare to make shows you the image of the russet wolf turning back toward the scorched castle grounds.

You pray for the good safety of everyone. Hope the castle is still together after the royal guard protects and saves the night.

It’s freezing as Jimin runs through the thicket of the wilderness, deeper than you ever dare to go alone. You keep your head down, pressed into his back as bitter cold breezes over the surfaces of your body that aren't protected by Jimin’s warmth. The nightgown you wear is thin, not topped with layers among layers of fabrics and wiring like a corseted dress would have. Not to mention the tingling burn to your bare feet as the winter air touches them. But he is warm. A heated beast beneath you, emitting a comforting temperature the more your fingers curl into the roots of his bristle fur.

His breath is labored, chest heaving as his limbs carry you fast. Jimin zips through the rough terrain of the earthy woods, jumping and dodging the obstacles in his way. You fear the tightness of your muscles as you cling on to him, feeling the exhaust of your body as they sore.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been a passenger on Jimin’s back. Everything has happened so quickly. It isn’t until you hear the noises of strangers. The padding of snow under Jimin’s paws begins sounding different. Now stepping on hardened ground.

Your eyes blink open as you take in the surroundings passing by. Glowing lights in tapered windows of wooden cabins flash in seconds. Secured doors and moss growth along the sides of several cabin-like housings.

Jimin leads with a howl, rushing toward the only place he knows will keep you the most protected. He slows his pace as he draws near, beckoning with a warning call for the door to swing open and allow him in. You find yourself entering with him, a soft warmth from a low burning fireplace greets you as the two of you enter.

You feel the way Jimin stumbles, his body catching up with how taxed he must be. The way his shoulders shrug tells you to dismount him as his mouth pants labored breaths. Carefully, you slide until your toes touch the floor below you.

“Jimin?” Your first concern comes out worriedly. Your hands still roam his fur as you notice the warmth of red liquid staining your palms – even pieces of your clothes. It’s enough to make you feel uneasy about the open wounds you fail to find through his pelt.

He’s quick to move from you, tripping over himself as he walks deeper toward the back of the cabin. A low growl rumbles from his chest as a warning, unwanted contact from you.

You take a step to follow him, seeing how hurt he is – it only wrenches your heart tighter. Your eyes grow wider the further he steps away from you, scurrying himself as he barks in the air for help.

A soft pair of hands hold onto your elbow, keeping you from the beast in pain. You snap your head toward the contact, searching for the reason why you’ve been halted.

“Don’t.” A woman with dark, long wavy hair speaks in a low tone. Her skin is aged but glows beautifully. Bundled up in layered clothes, she wears a worried look just like you. But it’s because she is stressed about your concern over the wolf in agony. “He will be alright.”

The door behind her has already been shut tight as the woman urges you to sit on the closest couch. Your eyes flick back to Jimin who continues to pad down the end of the hallway, twisting into a new shape as his body slowly transforms back into a human state. It’s an image you never expected to see, completely magical and out of this world as you catch glimpses of a wolf morphing into man.

His deep groans turn more audible as his real voice is able to break free.

“Wolfsbane –” he curses out into the open as he’s hunched over. He breathes heavily, open mouth catching air for his lungs as his fingers now claw at the bloody abrasion on the left side of his chest.

From your spot on the sofa, you witness Jimin suffering in a fetal position with no clothes. He’s turned to the side, hiding what he can in his vulnerable state. His long hair, usually kept neatly pulled back, falls dramatically across his face. His nose scrunches as his lips pull back to show his seething teeth.

“Jimin!” You begin to stand up, but the woman holds her hands out before you.

“Stay, Princess! Please!” Her voice is soft.

She tries her best to be respectful, honoring your title even in the severity of a situation. “I’m his mother.” She claims before gripping a knitted wool blanket off the back of a chair and rushing over to her son.

You blink, stunned as you process all the movements and information playing out in front of you.

Jimin coughs as his head presses into the floor. You watch in horror the way Jimin’s body rejects the burn of the wolfsbane that entered his system. Jerking and moving in his place as some mystical natured element helps overcome his pain. Jimin’s mother places the blanket over Jimin, shielding him from your innocent eyes. She squats beside him, hand placing over his forehead as his face twists with strain.

“Fight it,” she encourages as she pushes back his bangs to inspect his eyes. They’re reddened on the edges. The infection attacks deeply within him. His blue shiny irises that come out when he taps into his wolf form is stationary, shining brightly as he internally battles the poisonous herb. “Push it out, you can do it.”

You catch him staring at you as he overcomes this annoyance. It’s not enough to be deadly for him, but it is a good amount to weaken his overall state for the time being. His body fights to heal properly, but he’ll be ready soon.

The first initial wave of pain eases on Jimin. You don’t notice it due to the blanket covering his body, but a small pool of tainted blood leaks out of his wound. Spoiled by the wretched poison. It’s what his body needs to do, reject it and remove it entirely from him.

“Can I help in any way?” You stand and step toward him as his panting calms.

“No, no!” Jimin’s mother’s hands shoot out, shooing you. “You don’t need to do anything! His body is healing,” she reassures. “It may not make any sense, but he is going to be good. Just give him some time. Wolves have an accelerated healing power.”

“But –” you begin to counter. You feel helpless, powerless. Your heart hurts from seeing Jimin in such a distraught state. You can’t shake the image out of your head.

“Stop,” you hear Jimin breathing out. His tenor voice aching as his body shivers. “Stay over there,” he begs. “Just give me a second, Princess.”

All you can do is wait. Watch the way the man you care for struggles with himself as his supernatural body convulses and kicks out the vicious wolfsbane as he rapidly recovers. His grunts and groans do nothing to help, making you worry even more.

When Jimin finally settles, he lays limp on the floor. Relief washes over him as the surging pain seizes and his body begins to feel like normal once again. Sweat has slickened the roots of his hair, surely the rest of his skin expelled other toxins.

He starts to lift himself off the floor, using his arms to push him up to a sitting position first – then enough to stand. He clutches the blanket around him. Holding it tight around his waist and covering his lower region.

“Take your time,” his mother whispers. She, too, stands with him. Using her hands to help guide him if he wavers on his feet. He’s taller than her, but you can tell she’s strong from the way she helps hold her son up.

“I have to go back,” he says to her, but stares at you.

Jimin takes a few tentative steps until he catches the motion easilier. He walks over to you in concern, abandoning the dripped blood on the floorboard from where he once laid. You're shivering in place, not realizing it yourself.

“Mom, would you mind finding something the princess can change into? Clean her up a little as well?”

You waste no time rushing yourself to him regardless of Jimin pleading for you not to. That doesn’t stop the way your arms wrap around his torso, feeling the warmth of his smooth skin as you hold him. Your head curls into his shoulder as his free arm surrounds your back, pulling you against him.

“Please, be good. Back up,” he slowly walks you in his embrace.

You feel the rumble of his voice through his chest as you press desperately against him, not wanting to let him go just yet. He’s homely like your favorite hiding place back in the castle or the comfort of your bed after a long day of duties. It feels right to be with him as your mind speaks these words of nonsense.

“Don’t leave again,” you beg as your heartstrings twinge with sadness. You think latching onto Jimin even more would be the answer of his choice, but alas it is not. His arm is placing you down on the sofa for you to sit as he kneels on the floor. Even when you try grabbing at him, he politely pushes your hands away.

“Mom,” Jimin calls out as his hands grip the bottoms of your bare feet. He runs his palms across them, feeling how frigid they’ve become. Jimin ignores the way your cold hands try to turn his head to look up at you, stubbornly keeping it down and focused on your toes. When he fails to hear a response, he shouts again, “Mom!”

“Jimin!” You call to get his attention, fingers running through his thick locks to expose his face. Cupping his cheeks doesn’t suffice either, even your attempt to tilt his jaw fails. He isn’t budging from his position.

His mother comes out of another room with an abundant amount of clothes. Each of them look heavy, thick. Enough to hopefully keep you bundled up in the chill of a winter’s night.

Jimin squeezes your feet with his hands, trying to circulate more blood flow as he tries to warm you. He suffers knowing you’re freezing, not in an ideal state. But he can also feel the way your heart pangs with confusion and hurt. He can smell the fear radiating off of your body as you process so much.

“Would you mind changing into these?” His mother comes into your view. She begins placing pieces out in order to dress. Layers ready at your will. “I can wash your nightgown. Rid you of those stains. I can try patching up the tears in your skirt.”

The doleful look in your eyes tells her enough at one glance. She sighs as a tear trickles down the bridge of your nose.

“Why won’t you look at me?” Your voice cracks mid sentence as you stare helplessly at Jimin.

It’s languid the way his eyes flick up to you, shrouded with sadness behind his lashes.

“You’re freezing,” he states.

“I’m more hurt that you won’t let me do anything for you,” you respond with irritation. “I’m fine. You’re not.” You gesture to his exposed chest, muddied with swipes of blood on his left side.

“There’s nothing there anymore. The wound is sealed already. It’s just drying blood.”

He looks down back at your feet, finally noticing his stained hands – how he’s holding you with his own filth. The thought upsets him entirely.

Abruptly, Jimin stands. Turning away from you and rushing over to the fireplace to place more wood in the burning embers. He tightens the blanket around his waist, pacing across the floor of the cabin for anything he thinks you need before he departs.

“Run a bath,” he tells his mother. “It’ll warm her up faster. Then she can change into the clean clothes.”

“I don’t want that,” you speak. “I’ll take the clothes as they are. But Jimin –”

“– I need to go back,” he whips around in his spot. Jimin is fast on his feet, gathering some more blankets and gripping your hand. “My old room is just over here. Make yourself at home. I know this isn’t ideal but it will keep you safe and warm. My mother,” Jimin glances over at her, “She’ll be a great help. Please, take care of the Princess before I return.”

You rip your hand away from Jimin while stubbornly holding your place on the couch. It’s an act you never suspected yourself to do so harshly. The appalled look on your face puzzles Jimin. Makes him look down at you in silence, awaiting for you to speak.

“No,” you stare back. “Why can’t you just stay?”

“I have a duty,” he responds just as fast. “One to serve the royal family.”

“I am the royal family!”

“I am a part of the entire pack fighting for the kingdom right now. I must be with them.”

The frustration causes your blood to boil under your skin. Heat rises to your cheeks as anger takes over. He’s staring you down. Jimin is right after all. But yet again, without him even speaking, you can hear his voice repeat the words ‘that’s selfish of you’. It rattles inside your head as your lips quiver with emotion.

You turn your head, eyes filled with sorrow dropping to your lap. The scolding fire from his bright eyes hurts you deeply. Yet he doesn’t have intentions to upset you, Jimin only wants to protect you.

“Go.”

The single word comes out so cold, so unlike your usual tone. It catches Jimin off guard.

The entire time Jimin’s mother stands in silence, trying to read the room herself as the two of you cast a tense environment. She has no place to utter a single word, not here. For a moment, she shares a cautious glance with her son. Something in her eyes that tells him that he needs to do something – say something.

“Prin –”

“– I do not want to see you.” Your voice sounds meek, on edge of falling over in the pool of emotion laying inside of you. If only he can understand how important you’ve made him in your life. How special he is and the comfort that comes with him when he’s around. Imagining him returning beaten up again bothers you. Thinking he might not come back at all is even worse.

“Just, go.” You command.

“Y/n,” Jimin speaks in a gentle voice. He steps closer to you with a heavy heart, “I’m sorry.” Slowly, he leans down to level his head with yours. It’s alright with him that you refuse to look back. Jimin knows he has your attention regardless. You feel the soft graze of his knuckle run along the edge of your jaw, surprised from the tender touch. “I really am sorry,” he smiles faintly as he leans in just enough to place his plump lips delicately on your temple.

Jimin leaves your side, turns on his heel and swiftly moves out the front door. It’s a rush from the way his body forms back into wolf and his paws press into the ground, carrying him further away from you. He wants to be here for you, but his loyalty lies deep to the guards and your family. Jimin knows you are safe, under the protection of his mother and the community surrounding the cabin. He would never just leave you.

A gust of wind blows in from outside, the chill reminding you how low the temperatures are. Jimin’s mother kindly shuts and locks the door. Silence stills softly in the ambiance of the crackling fireplace.

It breaks you knowing Jimin isn’t staying by your side. The rational side of your brain screams at you, telling you he is doing the right thing. But the emotional soft boundaries you have, that are more tender than a baby bird, weakens the further Jimin is. Like a piece of your heart constantly stripping from you. Cracking and bleeding from unreciprocated love.

The gentle face of Jimin’s mother approaches you, her soft hand places it upon your shoulder to gain your attention.

“Princess,” she begins with a kind tone. “Please know, we’ll do anything to protect you. You’re in a safe place now. My name is Mira. Let’s have you change into something warmer. I can make some tea as well.”

Her words do not stop the slow streams of tears dripping from your face. You wipe away each of them the moment they pass the curve of your cheeks, frustration and heartbreak laying deep within you.

When will he come back, you begin to wonder. Will he come back? Flashes of the ruffians and ruthlessness they project remind you how dangerous they are. What damages have they done with your family's castle? To your precious belongings?

And then it reminds you… You haven’t thought about your family. Your father and siblings, are they safe and sound? Are they escorted off the property by the guards as they clean up the mess of the intruders? How selfish of you, truly, to only think of yourself and Jimin.

Your realization serves you like the small piece of bread and tea served to you on a platter from Mira. It makes you cry more about how childish and foolish your mind is.

“He does love you,” Mira speaks again. Her eyes crinkle with wrinkles as she smiles. “He does the things he does because he loves you.”

Jimin yearns to return to your side the moment his feet step out of his childhood home. He rushes back to the castle grounds, reconnecting with the king's royal guard and abolishing any trespasser standing in his way. He fought for hours with righteousness and duty, tearing apart men limb from limb as he dodges the poisonous silver weapons laced with a venomous herb. When the time comes that the invasion of hoodlums either retreat or have been eliminated by the brute force of the royal guard – Jimin doesn’t hesitate to rush back to you.

He’s been given the blessing from his higher-ups. Notified that the castle will be on high alert while the rest of your family has been scattered to their own locations of safety. They too have their own personal guards who stand their grounds and hover their sides. What matters now is that the kingdom is still intact even after such a brutal attack. They are not overthrown and they will continue on as supreme rulers.

As for any hostages held from the invaders, they will be judged appropriately and prodded for questions and answers before the royal court. Jimin has seen this many times, but never to this extent. This is the first time in his line of duty that the castle was attacked – but he is thankful for the outcome.

He wouldn’t know what would have happened if it turned out different.

His chest heaves with heavy breaths as he slows his pace the moment his eyes lay on the door to his mother’s house. Inside he knows you are waiting, impatiently he assumes. But seeing your face again will give him a sense of relief. A calming vortex that sinks deep inside his body and warms his nerves.

Jimin’s blood pumps in his ears as he calls out to his mother in the form of telepathy – a unique trait wolves have with one another. An inner circle of connections that allows wolves to speak to other wolves. Mira is ready by the door, twisting the handle and allowing Jimin a swift entrance into the house.

He tries to step quietly as his heavy wolf form causes the wood flooring to creak under his steps. His pads resound a soft thud as he walks. At first, he expects to walk straight to his room as he remembered he offered you his place to rest. But as his nose picks up your immediate scent, he realizes that you’re still resting on the couch right in front of the fire.

“She hasn’t moved,” Mira murmurs under her breath. Jimin’s mother stayed up all hours he was gone, watching and keeping you company. “I’ve given her plenty of tea and washed her face with a heated cloth. I’ve kept adding more wood to the fire to help. Even in her sleep, she still shivers. She may have hypothermia,” she warns.

He wouldn’t put it past him if this is the case. You were never made for enduring February winters in just a nightgown after all. Barefooted may he add.

Jimin walks over you, his nose sniffing at your skin to seek any discomfort your body may radiate. You lay there bundled up as much as you can under heavy fabrics of wool and fur. Jimin smiles to himself fondly as he sees the way you tuck your chin into the blanket and cover your nose.

A tentative look is shared between Jimin and his mother before he nudges his head against your arms.

You rouse from your slumber momentarily and your immediate reaction is to tighten your body and move to a more comfortable position. However, Jimin doesn’t allow you. He nudges you again and this time he digs his nose between the crack of your arms, prying them open so he can slot his head through and force your arm around his neck.

Mumbling in your sleep, you groan at the annoyance of being woken up. But when you feel the soft bristles of fur against your face and the undeniable warmth coming from them, you cling onto whatever is pressing against you.

It wakes you further. Enough to make you register enough to know Jimin is in your arms right now. Your fingers cling onto him tightly, screwing them into knots as you inhale deeply into the side of his neck. He smells like the frozen forest mixed with burning embers; the smell of smoke clogging between his roots.

His warmth is what reminds you of home. It forces happiness to leak out of your eyes as a warm tear drips onto his fur the more you bury your face into him. His movement forces you to wake up, urging you with a tug to get off the couch and follow him.

Leisurely, you hang from him while he ushers you to the other room – his room. Your feet stumble as the two of you pass Mira. You don’t care how clumsy you look, you’re just happy to have Jimin back.

“Jimin,” his mother tries speaking in a hushed tone. “Remember who you are to her.”

He doesn’t stop his stride as he enters his old bedroom with you nearly hanging off of him. It’s upkept well thanks to his mom. Nothing moved or changed over the years. With a few more nudges and suggestive pushes, he has you falling into place upon the mattress. It’s low to the ground, easy for him to step on it even in wolf form and lay comfortably as you attach yourself to his back.

This form is undoubtedly the warmest. And with his wolf form he serves as a natural furnace for you. He doesn’t mind the way your fingers dig into his fur or the way your cold body presses desperately against his. He allows anything that will warm you up.

His eyes meet his mother’s as she leans in to shut the bedroom door. Words and feelings cannot describe his unfair bond to you – but with werewolves, they have a mutual understanding of how things work.

Jimin groans with a huff before putting his head down on the bed. He stays awake, alert, and listens to the sounds and conversations running through his head. Even when the threat is over, he still stays guard. Ready to pounce on anything that comes toward you.

For now, you may sleep comfortably. Jimin will be able to tell you later about the results of the castle and your family.

You’re greeted by coldness as you toss and turn. The fresh chill pricks your cheeks, jolting your nerves to wake when you want nothing more than sleep. Chirps of wild birds sing outside of the window that casts a dull ray of sun into the room. It still looks dark out. There’s also an ache in your joints and muscles, particularly in your neck.

Perhaps you slept awful, used to having your luxury linens and perfectly fluffed pillows. Instead you spent the night balled up, tight, against the only thing that holds heat.

The fire isn’t what saves you from the brisk cold of winter. It is the tender bristles of a wolf’s fur that hordes blissful heat, warmer than a copper pan filled with rocks warmed at the edge of a fire.

But you are not welcomed with that same softness of Jimin’s fur anymore. When you turn again, you realize you press against the smooth surface of his broadened back. Black ink decorates down his spine in the phases of the moon as your eyes focus from the haze of sleep. Does it make any sense to see the man you adore, shirtless with his back to you in the same bed?

Absolutely not.

Your clogged head tries to clear the fog of confusion as you edge away from Jimin. He’s tucked under the covers, just as you. His chest rises and falls slowly, in a deep sleep. He’s more exhausted than you, his body fought all night. It makes sense he finally collapsed into a resting state; relaxed and dare you say, delicate. The branded ink shines subtly as his skin, miraculously still smooth, feels even warmer under your tender fingertips. Slowly, you trace invisible patterns onto his skin, mesmerized by the way he doesn’t pull away from you.

You feel guilty for snuggling up closer to him, knowing very well he isn’t in a conscious state for him to put you back in your place like all the other times. But you feel drawn in and addicted to his warmth and security in such a tender position.

Jimin inhales and exhales deeply, shifting his head when he feels your fingers tickle the nape of his neck. He shifts in his sleep, moving his body enough to force you to freeze. His hand reaches back, swatting away your hand as if it is a dainty bug crawling on him. But he realizes it’s nothing but a hand – your hand – and instead, he grips it. Pulling it around him and stretching your arm across his torso so that he can hold it against his chest. Jimin curls himself in a fetal position, dragging you flush against his back.

“Stop tickling me,” he murmurs in a groggy voice. He huffs out a small burst of air, humor laced with it.

Your forehead presses into his spine, a small smile creeping up on your lips.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Silence falls once again except for the subtle sounds of Jimin’s breathing. You could stay like this forever if you were able to. Ignore all responsibilities of life and stay with Jimin. Deep down, you secretly wish this. Having his protection and solace, bringing you solitude and clarity. You know that he is all you will ever need. He’s been exactly everything you need him to be in your life, even when times get tough and he guides you to do something you’re stubbornly against. It’s all for your well-being. Your overall happiness. Jimin has never steered you down the wrong path; even if it’s the path you wouldn’t pick yourself.

He is strong in many ways you aren’t. Rational and accountable. You know he will do everything in his power to let you have the perfect life and he will never leave you.

This feeling of unfulfillment with your heart always reminds you how a large piece of him belongs there. No matter how much room you make for your family and potential suitors that come your way. Nothing will fill the undeniable love you have toward your personal royal guard.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. This time with a different reason.

You’re apologizing for yourself. For the position you put yourself in even though you never win the fight with your emotions. How you cannot control this bond between the two of you and how you cannot change the way you feel toward him. You know you could never be with a wolf, let alone your own personal guard. The years between you doesn’t matter either. Jimin still looks as you first remember him, minus the added tattoos, scars and array of hair styles he’s sported. He has always been your guard, a figure to look up to, a brother, and a best friend without being them at the same time.

The connection you feel with Jimin is unexplainable. A natural magnetic draw you feel. A compelling force screaming at you that this – he – is exactly what your mind, body, and soul needs.

“Get some more rest,” Jimin urges as he squeezes your hand a little bit tighter.

“I am being honest with you,” you declare.

“So am I,” Jimin’s sleepy voice seeps through.

Your small tiff stirs Jimin awake. He turns slowly, still maintaining his hold on your hand as he faces you. The small puff of his cheeks shows you how tired he must be as his eyes remain closed. Jimin leans in, pushing your head into his chest as he rests his face into the top of your head.

“Rosemary,” he speaks out loud. He inhales slowly, admiring the sweet scent of the herb used to wash your hair every night. “It suits you so much.”

You feel a flush of warmth coursing through your body in such an intimate position. You have never been this close or tangled with Jimin like this before. There’s faint scars across his chest from what you can see, memories of past battle wounds that cut too deep perhaps.

“Are you hurt?” You question. Wondering how his body never correctly healed these specific marks.

“Not anymore,” he hums as he pulls you in tighter.

You can hear the faint beating of his heart as you twist your head to lay against his chest. It thumps calmly, like a lullaby whispering in your ear.

“Why are you here?” You dare to question.

A heavy thought that’s been weighing on your mind for far too long. You want to thank him for welcoming you into his solitude and keeping you warm throughout the night. Even then, you hardly remember moving from the couch to this bed. Jimin sharing a bed with you doesn’t make any sense to you. Especially how he rests with no clothes on; assumingly you believe as the blankets cover more than your eyes can see.

“Warmth,” he responds. “I had to keep you warm. But I fell asleep.”

“Why are you still here then…?”

Jimin exhales deeply. He still rests as much as he can even with your quizzing questions.

“I’m pretending I’m still dreaming.”

“Dreaming?” You blink.

“Yes.” Jimin’s hand gingerly raises to stroke the side of your head, brushing off any stray locks. His palm is so warm against you, the contact heating you instantly. “A dream. Would you like me to leave?”

“No,” you blurt out faster than you expected. “I just don’t understand,” you try leaning back to look at his face.

“Princess,” he tsks. “How can I explain this?” He questions himself more than you. Jimin places his lips on your forehead and rests them there as he contemplates his words. “A wolf cannot be mixed with a royal. But you desire a wolf. And a wolf desires you.” He hesitates with the next sentence that leaves his mouth. “However, it will never be allowed. And thus… a dream.”

“You dream of this?” You ask, stunned.

“Don’t you?” He huffed a laugh. “I know you do. There are times that I can read it all over your pretty face. I can feel it too.”

“I-I,” you feel flustered. Your feathers fluffed every which way as Jimin speaks so carelessly of such a sensitive subject.

“I know how you feel for me,” he states. “I’m sorry you do. Even when I try to keep you on the right path, show you your responsibilities and guide you to your title's destiny… you found a sanctuary in me.”

Jimin continues to stroke your face with his thumb, his nose breathes out hot air against your forehead. He caresses you tenderly, holds you dear to him as if he is afraid to let you go.

“I’ve… I have always loved you,” you confess. Swallowing thickly as your throat closes up with emotion. Jimin allows you to slide your arms around him again.

“I know. I can feel everything you feel,” he sighs. “Your happiness. Your sadness. That painstaking broken heart every time you’re forced to live your reality.”

He smiles softly against your skin, peppering small kisses where his lips rest.

“I also feel the way you can’t control your emotions. How you constantly battle with what’s right and wrong. How not a single person draws your attention more than I do. I can’t really explain how I can feel these things,” he tilts your head to look down into your eyes. “It won’t make any sense.”

In the soft morning light, his features are more admirable. His skin glows beautifully, like a natural highlight illuminating off of the edges of his face. Jimin cracks open his eyes, only slightly, to peer down at your innocent expression. A face he’s seen for many years after being scolded or pressed for answers. The beauty in his eyes, that crisp amber hue, shifts a shade darker as they land on your parting lips.

“Jimin, I don’t want this to be a dream.”

You’re honest about it. The aura of intimacy is fueling the room so purely, it’s nearly smothering. Jimin allows his walls to break down for you to enter; let’s you in his space even when it goes against everything the two of you know.

His thumb flicks your bottom lip, feeling the soft flesh under his digit. He can feel the natural draw, how his body is aching with a tantalizing need to kiss you. To have you, just for now, before he must go back to reality.

“I’ll do anything for you,” he declares as he looks down at you sadly. “I devoted myself the very first moment I saw you.” His breath shakes as he lets out a breath he was holding.

“Princess,” he begins, the small curve of his lips upturning. He knows this is dangerous, it’s not allowed. Years of pining and rejecting you, fearing the system of the world and the way of life, he’s taking his one and only opportunity to be selfish. A thing you know so very well. Jimin leans down, lips nearly brushing yours, “Please forgive me.”

Your lips press together in a gentle embrace. He pours his unannounced love for you with this kiss; all those years of pent-up, hopeless desires and unfathomable attachment finally burst through with the only way he can show you.

There’s no way of telling how long your kiss lasts; and eternity sounds like an understatement. Your breath hitches in your throat, surprised by the act and realism of Jimin – the man you’ve grown to love throughout all these years – has committed such a sinful, yet delightful, treason for the sake of his own greed. The same act you do not disgust, appall, or dislike. You greet it, after a few moments of shock, with happiness. A passion of feeling what you pined for all this time. Acceptance, understanding, and need.

Jimin’s warm fingers run along the side of your face and down the length of your arm. “Pretend it’s just a dream.” He smiles in between kisses.

A subtle tear breaks the brim of your eye as you capture Jimin in a passionate, breathtaking kiss. You bring him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and tasting his tongue in your mouth.

When it’s just a dream, you’re allowed to cross the lines of right and wrong. Do the things you want to do, impulsively or not. That’s why you don’t bother to wait when you desperately cling to him, tangling your soft fingers through his messy hair. You feel the way Jimin presses himself into you, not a care of his royal guard status or what your title is. He brings his love out to another being – you.

You feel the gentle pull of his hands at the lining of your padded clothes. There’s so much keeping you bundled, but he’s sure he can keep you warm with his body. His hands roam under the fabrics, feeling the touch of the soft skin of your hip. He skirts his hand up your back, pressing his palm onto you to drag you into him.

“Are you sure?” You question him as if you’re being fooled. Tricked into thinking this truly is a dream and not something you will remember.

“I’ve never wanted something so desperately,” he admits with no embarrassment. “So many times I’ve had to tell you to look away from me. Entertain these other suitors… It hurts. But I know I will always be there for you even if your feelings aren’t as they are now. Even if you didn’t feel for me. I can’t help that. I’m bound to you.”

Your eyes roam the expanse of his body that you can see against the pale sheets of his old mattress. His words send glee to your heart. Had you known this hurts him as much as it hurts you, you would do something about it. Find a way to make something work. There must be a way.

“I’m sorry for being so distant with you in regard to your emotions. But, I do it to protect you. I’m not right for you.” Jimin whispers as his lips reconnect with yours. A carnal desire brewing deep inside of him, no doubt inside of you too.

“Jimin,” you whimper against his mouth. The crack in your voice is threatening to snap.

“Tell me to stop.”

“Don’t,” you sniffle.

Your head is a clutter of sensitive emotions ransacking your brain. Clouding your headspace as if you are in a daydream. But you accept it. Allow this illusion, real or not, to be as real as it can ever get.

You accept him and this moment of time.

The heat of Jimin’s body keeps you warm from the chilled air outside of the sheets. Slowly, he shifts to have you laying on your back as his body crawls over you. Jimin plants soft and wet kisses down your jawline to a sweet spot on the side of your neck, multitasking with the buttons of your thick clothes.

The second he is able to free portions of your body from the garments, his skin slides over yours. Touching every delicately smooth surface of your body. Rising goosebumps through each sway of his fingers across every inch. You melt into his touches, a quiet whimper and pleasant hum escaping your nose.

“You’re so beautiful,” he comments as he levels his head with yours. He takes a moment to peer down at your morning face, admiring the way you look even with a rough night. Jimin remembers your eyes the most. How genuine and curious they are. He reminisces about the first time; when a shot of an electrifying spark penetrated his entire being because of his imprinting nature… how it connected him to you for as long as you live. “I will never lose you.”

Jimin can feel the way your body speaks to him. How together all your nerve endings and atoms feel as if they join like a perfect puzzle. It leads him further to your core, trailing his hand tentatively as he waits for a clear sign for him to continue.

He presses himself gently against you, showing you his growing need for you. The hardened appendage pokes you like a soft tapping on a door, trying to be as polite as possible.

You take his face in your hands, pulling him down for another emotional kiss. You nod to him, giving him the clearing to roam your most secretive bits.

After removing the access clothing from your legs, his fingertips glide up your inner thighs. He shivers when he inhales suddenly, taking in the small whiff of your scent. Instinctively, and almost casually, you bend your knee to allow more access for him.

Jimin’s fingers ghost over your core, brushing against the edges before feeling the slick heat from your lower lips. He teases you at first but not on purpose. Jimin swallows nervously, fighting with his body to remind himself to take things slow.

He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling at the plump piece of flesh as his index finger runs down your slit. You shutter with a breath of hot air blowing out, enjoying the foreign touch.

Unsure what to do with your hands, you begin to run them down his hard chest to mimic the similar style of approach he does on you. Though you’re halted the moment you hit his navel by his hand.

“Allow me to focus on you,” he requests in a soft tone. He raises your knuckles to his mouth where he plants a chaste kiss to them.

He suggests for your hands to remain away as he descends down the valley of your breasts. Each tender kiss he leaves to your feverish skin in the commute to your lower region has you squirming. You hoist the blankets over your body as Jimin disappears underneath them, taking the heat too. He’s able to maneuver skillfully between your legs, slotting himself neatly as you spread them wider.

You don’t get to see the way Jimin licks his lips when his eyes focus on your core for the first time. How your scent hits his nose at full force, reminding him how beautifully wet you’re becoming with the tension built up around you. His finger returns to you, sliding down your slit and nudging against your clit. It causes you to jolt, instinctively closing your legs around him as much as possible. But he keeps them open with his hands and body as he moves closer.

Peeking under the covers, you see the dark hair of Jimin sinking between the junction of your thighs. You capture the scene, branding it in your memory the moment Jimin’s mouth abruptly comes down on to your clit. You cry out, gripping the blankets in hard fists as his tongue languidly flicks over your sensitive bud as his finger teases your entrance.

“Shh,” he tries to tame you when he inserts his finger into you. You clench tightly, shift your legs even more as your body adjusts to Jimin.

He’s wondering what you’ll feel like if he inserts another, if it’ll pull another whimper and a moan from you. And he has to; to spread your entrance wider and stretch your walls open enough to allow him inside. Prepare your body for the intrusive thoughts bleeding into his mind of your body shaking under him with pleasure.

Jimin curls his fingers once he adds a second one into the mix, slowly pumping them in you at a steady pace as his lips caress your clit. The tip of his tongue flicks your bud so dangerously, it makes you cry out even louder and begins to disturb the silent winter morning air.

His free hand comes down to your waist to stop your hips from bucking into him. Jimin releases his mouth from you and calms his fingers as he hushes you once again.

“Quiet, Princess. Please.”

“Jimin, I-I’m-” You pant softly. Your chest shakes with the rise and fall and intense pounding of your heart.

“Don’t be sorry,” he interjects. Jimin slides himself up your body again while still securing his fingers inside your core. “I know it’s hard to not be loud.” He places a kiss to your cheek before finding your mouth, the taste of you still lingering on his plump lips. Gently, he adds a third finger into your entrance and captures your whine with a sealed kiss.

He uses this moment to experimentally widen your walls with the scissoring effect of his fingers. Fighting off the impulsive clench your body naturally does. When his thumb presses into your clit your body jumps.

Your hands rush to his head, combing through his hair as you fight to anchor yourself on something.

Jimin winces from the strength and harsh pull, but he doesn’t let it bother his actions. Instead, he is kissing your neck again as his hand wraps around your back. He lifts you up like it’s easy until you’re straddling his lap, legs still parted wide for him. Jimin removes his fingers from you, allowing him to push you closer against his hardness. The contact makes his neglected member flinch with excitement.

Your cheeks prick with sparks of warmth as you look Jimin in the eyes again. Both completely naked and in each other's own embrace. Your hot slick presses against his shaft and Jimin cannot help but use his hand to push you into him again.

The blankets have fallen around the two of you, leaving Jimin’s strong muscles to hold you upright on top of him and exposed for him and only him.

“You can’t tell anyone…” he begins as his lips lock with yours. “What happens here must stay here.”

“But what if I don’t want that?” You ask, catching your breath in between kisses.

“Want and need are two different things.”

“I want both of those though,” you exclaim. “I want and need you, Jimin.”

He silences you again, but this time with his tongue. He dives deep into your mouth, groaning with the taste of you that excites him.

“Don’t ever speak of this,” he reminds you. “You mean more to me than you can ever imagine. You’re special to me, Y/n. You will always have me.”

Your heart tightens in your chest as you hear his sincere words. Relief is an understatement. The reassurance and verbal notice of Jimin’s confession is enough to send you to cloud nine. His loyalty and dedication to your family's name isn’t the only thing he cares for. The importance of you and how you are something more to him sends your heart into eternal bliss. Maybe all it took is to finally hear it from the source.

“I’ve always loved you,” you declare as if Jimin never knew this himself.

He nods, leaning in to capture another kiss from you as your hands tugs on his shoulders. Your mouths move together so perfectly, reminding you how you want nothing more than to do this for the rest of your life. Lightly, your clit brushes against his hardened and untouched dick. The sensation of how close you are to it sends excitement through your body, arousing you more as you desperately rock against him for more stimulation with his help. Your slick drips along his lap, making the glide easier for you.

You admire the tip of his cockhead pointing up toward you, silently requesting to be touched.

“Help me,” you whisper as your legs try to help raise you above him.

Jimin positions his cock when you’re hovering over him. Your arousal drips teasingly over him, dressing the mushroom head of his tip in a shiny coat. He breathes out a strangled breath as the curse word ‘shit’ runs out of his lips.

Slowly, you drop down on Jimin’s cock. Allowing him to stretch you open as the first inches penetrate you. He holds you up, allows you to sink down at your own pace as both your mouths open with pleasurable surprise. A silent gasp leaves the two of you breathless as you sit flush against him, ignoring any prickling pain as your walls flutter around his cock. Squeezing and unsqueezing rigorously as your head tosses back with eyes screwed shut. Jimin groans with a string of incoherent words, muffled by the way he presses his lips into the side of your neck.

“Oh,” you whimper.

Knees already threatening to buckle and morph into jelly, your hands hold onto Jimin’s sturdy shoulders when you look down between the two of you. There’s fascination running through you as you watch the way your breasts rub against his chest each time your body moves down his; watching the way he disappears inside of you and filling you up.

The two of you moan in unison as you experimentally roll your hips into him. Jimin’s fingers tighten around your thighs, jerking his hips up to meet yours. He keeps a leisurely pace with you as he wishes nothing but to make you feel pleasurable. You can feel the way your orgasm slowly builds within you as you hold Jimin’s head closer against your neck. A desperate way of holding onto something while you begin to tremble with sensitivity.

“Is it too much?” He questions as he holds you impossibly closer to his body.

You breathe deeply, clutching his cock with your walls.

“No,” you choke out. “I need more.”

Jimin pulls you off of him to greet your face with his. He lays you down expertly, letting your body rest soft against the mattress again. Jimin is able to hook his arm around one of your legs and gently lifts it higher, testing the new angle and watching the way your face contorts with pleasure.

You cry out his name as you feel his cock run across a specific spot inside of you, making your toes curl and back arch. The sparks in your body flying like lightning in the sky.

There’s a tightness in your stomach that shoots down to your lower region, alerting you of your approaching orgasm. Jimin notices from the way you shake with each thrust he gives. He holds your legs wide, allowing deeper access to push into you as his abdomen flexes every time his body bangs into yours.

“Like this?” He breaths out, a glimpse of blue shining from his eyes.

“K-keep… Y-yes,” you moan, feeling him hit every mark with this new angle.

Jimin lowers himself down to catch your lips with his, closing your mouth and muffing your noises to the best of his abilities. He absolutely loves hearing the sounds of your whimpers and pleasure, but he’s not trying to allow everyone else to hear them.

Another quick and particular movement of Jimin’s hips has you coming undone beneath him, bucking your hips up to match his thrusts as you squeeze tight around him. You feel the way your nails dig into his shoulders as you shake uncontrollably as Jimin continues to thrust through your orgasm. The sounds of your bodies colliding heightens with squelching noises, your dripping arousal coating his entire pelvis and leaking onto the sheets below.

With a few more sharp thrusts, Jimin pulls out of you and spills his seed onto your stomach. Dressing your smooth skin with strings of milky residue. You catch the ending bit, watching the way his cum spurts out of his cockhead as Jimin presses his pelvis down, using both him and you to squeeze his slick-hardened cock.

Jimin moans with you, still molding your lips together as he holds you close to him. When the two of you calm down from the euphoric sensations, he places his forehead against yours. He looks down at you with soft and serene eyes. Filled with love and adoration. This new sense of energy and vulnerability flows through him.

It’s happiness he shares with you when you both shyly smile at another. Ignoring all the heated labor breathes and dampened hairlines. You get lost in his eyes, wishing that the crisp amber coloring is the solution to all your worries and problems. And in some ways – they are.

“I love you.”

Jimin speaks calmly as he declares his emotions for you. His lips press into yours once more to seal his statement.

You can’t help but look up at him with watery eyes. You want to burst into a full blown cry when you see the way his eyes glisten too, but you don’t. Not wanting to spoil the moment of sincerity for either of you.

“I love you too,” you respond as you brush strands of fringe away from his softening face. It’s almost long enough to tuck behind his ear, which you scowl when you watch the piece fall right back in his face.

You share a soft chuckle with him as he moves slowly, making sure to not spread the mess on your stomach everywhere.

“I’ll clean us up and we can go back to resting for a bit.”

“Okay,” you smile softly. Your hands begin to cover yourself the further Jimin pulls away from your body.

Jimin is quick to find a feasible cloth from the corner of the room and just as fast to return to you on the bed. He wipes you off first, as he should, before cleaning himself. He kneels down on the mattress as you try to subtly admire his entire naked body. Realizing he is still so unfairly beautiful without the suited armor and clothing he usually wears.

“I should have you know, now that you’re awake…” he huffed a laugh. Jimin slides himself under the covers, meeting your body with his. His arm crosses over your torso, hand running down the other side of you until he pulls you close by the waist. “Your family is safe. We defeated the threat last night and your castle will undergo some reconstruction from the damages. But everything is maintained again. I’m sure we will have to return within the day.”

The news makes you happy. The outcome could have been far worse in many ways. But hearing these words from Jimin is comforting. It makes you proud and grateful for him. You aren’t sure what the future will bring. How this dreamy secret must never be spoken about. What this could all mean now. But what you do know, is that he loves you too, and that is enough for now.

Moodboard credit: @/kth1

#safe haven #kth1fics #bangtansorciere #thebtswritersclub #park jimin #jimin #jimin smut #jimin fic #jimin pwp #jimin oneshot #jimin imagines #jimin drabble #jimin fanfic #jimin x you #jimin au #bts fanfic #btspwp #werewolf jimin #btscreaturescoven

583 notes · View notes

betasquads · 7 months

Text

𓆩♡𓆪 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑨 𝑺𝑸𝑼𝑨𝑫 𓆩♡𓆪

ＭＡＳＴＥＲＬＩＳＴ

≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡

—————————༺❀༻—————————

NIKO OMILANA

Jealousy

(summary: In which your boyfriend Niko Omilana gets visibly upset and jealous at how close you we're being with your work partner, Sharky.)

Jealousy (part two)

(summary: It has been weeks since you left his apartment, crying and devastated, desperate to know why he never came back to make this all right. You in your own mind, you felt like it was over since he wasn't coming into conclusion that he was in the wrong. You try to move on by going to an all influencers party, but that's when you're met face to face with Niko.)

Can I kiss you?

(summary: You're a usual guest in the beta squad and all the members seems to like you, except for one that seems to not like you at all. Or that's what you took from the interaction between you and him.)

Forgotten

(summary: You and Niko were friends right before he got famous. One by one, day by day, he started to forget that you even exist. Months started to pass by, and you found yourself questioning if he ever thought about you. It even began piling up to years. What happens when your on a random workday and you bump into the least expected person?)

Forgotten (part two)

(summary: Just when you thought it was over with Niko, an unexpected offer had occurred. An offer that you had needed desperately.)

Care For You

(summary:Niko and some of his friends, Sharky, Aj, and your brother, Dylan, decide to go to an arcade as a small hangout. Niko thought it'd be a great idea to invite you since your birthday was coming up. Obviously his friends and your brother are annoyed by Niko inviting you, even though you were friends with all of them aswell. Not that they hated you, they wanted to be together alone for a day. You had a huge crush on Niko, so you easily accepted it. Well, not everything goes according to your plan.)

The Unrevealed, Reveals *still in progress*

(summary: Niko Omilana, the man that you never see scared. You are an actress and you've never seen your boyfriend, Niko, scared before. What if the rest of the beta squad decide to pull a prank by getting you ‘kidnapped’?)

Needy

(summary: Niko was never this impatient. Calling you, texting you to come urgently to his apartment. You've never seen him like this and you wonder how it'd turn out if you stretched the situation by not giving in.)

My Dearest Friend (warning: smut is included)

(summary: you and Niko became friends quickly when your group got big, and therefore, you collabed with the beta squad. they liked your energy and your friends' energy, and let's say, it wasn't hard for the friendship to form. You and Niko were practically hanging out everyday, and you've always seen him as your friend. That was until fans began shipping you with him, and those thoughts were enough to make you open your eyes and realize he was more than that.)

↓Based off of the song (Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine)↓

Movie

(summary: A first date that turned out to be really successful with Niko, gets repeated with a different girl that wasn't you. Or maybe, you just didn't know what was real life and wasn't.)

—————————༺❀༻—————————

SHARKY

Look After You

(summary: Receiving the news of your mother's death made a huge impact on you. You spend weeks alone in your apartment, ignoring the outside world and the people that could possibly help you at least feel better. But one person had a feeling in his gut that something wasn't right. He was angry, confused, and mostly hurt on why his own best friend was ignoring him. So, he decides to pay you a visit.)

↓Based off of the song (Traitor by Olivia)↓

Traitor *still in progress*

(summary: You and Sharky were done for. Not that the relationship was imperfect, it was just the mutual feelings of the fact that the both of you lost feelings. Well, he admitted it first, and you went along with it so he doesn't see the way you were deeply hurt. Not even two weeks later and he shows up with a girl at a gathering party for close friends.)

↓Based off of the song (Scott Street)↓

Don't Be A Stranger

(summary: The love of your life suddenly turns into a complete stranger.)

—————————༺❀༻—————————

AJ SHABEEL

Mistake *still in progress*

(summary: You usually visit Aj's and Niko's apartment since you were practically the closest out of the rest. Until one day, all of you are seated while Aj was streaming and Niko exposes Aj's feelings towards you infront of thousands who were watching every single moment.)

—————————༺❀༻—————————

CHUNKZ

Annoyed *still in progress*

(summary: Filming with the beta squad was always fun. Their energy, their jokes, their passion just to make you laugh whenever you're around them. One person picks on you a little too much when you're filming with them for their upcoming new video. It annoys you, which leads to you ignoring him.)

—————————༺❀༻—————————

KENNY

Do The Unexpected

(summary: In which Kenny proves himself by winning his fight infront of everyone who has ever doubted him. You and his boys never doubted him for a second, so you run up in the ring and ramble on and on about how proud you are of him.)

—————————༺❀༻—————————

↓ additions ↓

≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡

PREFERENCES:

* In progress / soon *

≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡

RULES:

rules while requesting: do NOT request anything that includes r@pe.

anything that includes abuse.

or anything graphic.

≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡

NOTES:

i might write about smut but it'll take time until I gather the words for it because I completely suck.

i prefer if there isn't any minors here. (not that I can control them but 😭) you could read everything if you think you're mature enough ig.. but you're weird (dw I was the exact same 😭)

this WILL be constantly updated! (hopefully.)

be open, i swear I do not care if you request something as 'too far' I WILL write it for you.

if ANYONE i mean ANYONE wants me to write about anyone else other than the beta squad (like darkest, filly, etc...) request me and I'll try to see if I could do it.

all of these are actually in my drafts but most of them are UNFINISHED. which means I need you to be patient with me 🙏🏻🙏🏻

please be patient with me while publishing anything, I promise you I'm trying my best finishing up everything as soon as possible.

≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡

283 notes · View notes

blueparadis · 2 years

Text

▏drowning ▏pierro ▏

CWs— female anatomy, she/her pronouns, smut, corruption kink, sub!reader, use of pet-names, cumflation, use of sex toy, anal play, cunnilingus, mention of menstrual cycle; word count — 1k

PRECIS — pierro just wants to show you the greater pleasures of life other than doing chores for him.

NOTES — part of my self-event sizzling sextember collab. I was supposed to post it last week of September, but oh well. thanks to @luvbladez for beta reading !

⌗ tags —» @xshinigamikittenx @garoujo @munsonsins

+LINKS SECTION.

The first time Pierro laid eyes on you he knew you would be promising. With your growing body while others seem to work a week barely you endured the workload for almost a month. He thinks it's cute that you do the chores happily with a smile on your face, and take proper breaks if necessary. He is pretty fond of you, your organized habits, your manner of neat and fresh clothing. Sometimes, he thinks you should be rewarded but doesn't know how?

Sometimes he thinks it is your white innocence that makes him work overnight only to watch you getting all fidgety every time you try to glance at him. It certainly crossed his mind that you might like him, his presence around you, especially when he caught you stealing glances at him as he was buried in paperwork but he was not sure until you accidentally fell scattering all those papers on the ground, some flying in other directions and refusing any kind of help he offered.

He did not ask you again since he was unsure if he would have been able to hold himself back after accidentally having a peek of your cleavage. But a reflex thought crossed his mind: would your nipples be the same color as your lips?

He quickly cleared his throat and went back to his work desk while you adjusted your clothing to hide your modesty. He could not tear his gaze away from you that night. He was thankful for your white innocence that did not let you be aware of his intentions, his raging desires to have a taste of you, your supple skin.

Pierro was avoiding you since that day, he had to so that he could keep his cravings at bay yet he was not fond of the fact that he was jacking off thinking of you, late at night like a teenage boy. Fate surely has its wildcards since he needed to see you for fetching some special papers. He would have called for another one but you were more organized, more accustomed to his ways so it was you in the end.

He tried to keep himself busy, not to look at you but when your melodious voice responded to his beckon, something unleashed within him. “You called for me, my lord?”

“Y-Yes”, he shuttered, lending you a file. You inspected it carefully to know what he was looking for. And as you stood in front of the shelf, Pierro clenched his jaw while his fingers curled into a fist. You were just at arm's length wearing a light peach dress, and he was losing his mind thinking how painfully unaware you were that anyone could see your areola

He had enough of this. “Here my lord, the papers”, his eyes made up to yours. The pile of papers went flying in all directions as he pulled you against his body.

“Tell me you want this?”, he panted against your mouth having his arms snaked around your body. You gasped and breathed heavily at this sudden glimpse of hunger as he proceeded to make you sit on his work desk. “Do you want this, girl? Tell me”, he asked again. This time his palm was resting on your naked thighs illuminating fireworks all over your skin.

“Yes”

And in the very next moment, his fingers were playing with your pussy folds, eyes carefully watching your nipples getting hard at his ministrations while you grabbed the edge of his long overcoat. He could not wait any longer. Even though you were wearing the dress, his tongue lapped over your nipple while his mouth clamped around your breasts. “My lord, please ”, you mewl making him quickly pull away but he was bestowed with a raspy plea, “more, I want more of you”

That night, you lost count of how many times you squirted as he finger-fucked you. He did not want to deflower you yet, not like this. He wanted you to beg for it, beg to take your virginity. You wanted that too. You wanted to be filled with his cum, have his hefty cock buried inside you but fate had some other plans.

“I see.”, pierro uttered, strolling across his table as you told him that you were on your cycle. Now, violence was coursing within him, but he did not want to break you like that or give you to his subordinates after he was done savoring your taste. He wanted it all for himself.

Pierro handed you a teardrop-shaped thing and as he explained what it was for, your mind went foggy and dizzy. He was desperate to have you, to taint your innocence and so were you. It was indeed tough to work with that thing buried in your hole but you managed. You wanted to please him so bad, hear him say ‘Good girl as he plays with you later at night.

With the cool breeze grazing your naked skin, giving you goosebumps it was hard not to let out any squeal while having his cock deep inside your butthole. You were sitting on his lap, legs spread across his pelvic as your naked body rested on his firm chest while he was finishing the last pile of papers. Any little movement sends shivers of pain, and waves of pleasure in your clogged mind.

“I’m done baby girl”, he boldly whispers, adjusting you a little. He smiled as your juices soaked the clothing. His long sturdy fingers clamped around your waist as he guided you on his cock. You both wince at every move yet when he had you bouncing on his cock, mixed cum dripping along your legs he knew he had edified you well enough to own you like a fire owns a moth.

A month later, it became a routine. You were addicted to him, his whispers against your ears while his naked chest grazed yours. And Pierro? He was a happy man. Happy that you would come to him late at night, having him sheathed with your pussy while he finishes his work. He knew he did his job well. You both were drowning in each other's web of charms.

—

@tokyometronetwork

1K notes · View notes

nattinatalia · 10 months

Text

Jack Harlow x Reader : SOCCER GAMES & SHOWERS

A/N: ⚠️ 18+ SMUT AHEAD!!!!!!! We’re back again with another fic collab with my buttercup @harlowcomehome 💚 thank you for everything babes. you know how much you mean to me, thank you for always jumping in and helping me out and always willing to make magic 🪄 ✨ with me.

******************************

It was the Fourth of July weekend and surprisingly Jack was home for it. You were excited to have him home and have Mia enjoy all the different colors of the fireworks.

Of course, Jack and the boys had their annual soccer game for the holiday and this time somehow they were extra excited.

Urban was over for breakfast since they were heading out right after. Your daughter Mia was sleeping still so you decided to get an early start on breakfast for the boys and yourself.

Hearing them speak about their game today spiked an interest in you. “Dude, we have to win. Imagine all the money going into this charity.”

Jack nods, taking a sip of his iced matcha that he somehow actually enjoyed drinking. He says it’s only good when you make it at home though. “We will, this team we're going up against has a member that sprained his ankle but somehow he’s still in the game. That gives us an advantage.”

You smile at that, “Jack, honey?”

“Yes?” He looks towards you.

“Can I join you today?”

He tilts his head to the side, obviously surprised about it. “Join me at the game?”

You nod excitedly, “Yeah, why not?” you shrug getting up from your spot on the table and heading to the sink and start piling up the dirty dishes. “I always hear you talk about this game, so why not witness it myself?”

Urban and Jack share a look and a little chuckle. “What?”

“Babe, the first and last time you decided to join us you got bored not even five minutes in and you left.”

“I was seven months pregnant with your daughter, let’s blame it on her.” You pout.

Jack started heading to you, wrapping you up in his arms. “Baby, it’s just us boys running around, sweating, and sometimes cursing at each other.”

You shrug, “I want to see you run all sweaty, curls bouncing around.”

He shakes his head, chuckling, “Fine, if you want to go and watch the game, you’re more than welcome to come.”

Urban stood up “One problem.” You both turn to face him. “They usually don’t let kids in because of the distraction and yelling since it’s indoor soccer.”

You smile, “Maggie already offered to watch Mia for the day.”

Jack looks at you, brows raised. “So you had this planned already?”

“Maybe?”

“Alright, let’s go pack what we need for Mia and my mom because we leave in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll drop Mia off with your mom and I’ll meet you there?”

Jack nods, “Sounds like a plan, be careful driving.”

“You too bubs.” You quickly ran upstairs to wake Mia up and get her ready for the day.

*******

When you arrived at the game, you were balancing two cup holders full of Starbucks drinks.

Urban slapped Jack's arm to show him you were here.

Jack jogged over to you, sweat completely dripping down his flushed cheeks. His curls were a mess regardless of his bandeau headband. “You didn’t have to do that babe” he kissed you, his lips salty from the sweat.

You licked your lips and smiled, “It was no problem. Figured you guys needed to reenergize” You winked and he chuckled calling everyone over for a break.

You couldn’t stop admiring the way he looked, his thighs were practically being strangled by his gym shorts as if he owed them money, and his biceps were practically ripping out of his shirt.

Jack and the rest of the team sat on the bleachers with you for a while, you watched as Jack swallowed his drink, his Adam's apple bobbing as you started examining his every feature.

The freckles that decorated his arms and legs, the blonde-ish brown hair covering his legs, it wasn’t until everyone was looking over at you that you realized Jack had asked you a question.

“What? Sorry. I was distracted” you nervously giggled earning a laugh from your husband.

“Mhm, I saw that” he winked at you. “I just said we were going back to the game now.”

You nodded and grabbed him by the shoulders for one more kiss before leaning back on the bleachers.

Throughout the game, you couldn’t help but check your husband out. At home, he would literally do the bare minimum and you’d still get hot and bothered, so watching him run around the field with sweat dripping down his body, the muscles on his legs clenching, and the way he would get heated when his team doesn’t score, was getting you.

Jack noticed this, he noticed the way you would squeeze your thighs together. He noticed how you would take deep breaths. He noticed the way you would bite your bottom lip and he definitely noticed that sexy smile you would flash him.

That look alone would make him come undone but he didn’t want it that easily, he wanted to work for it and he had a plan.

“Ow, fuck.” Jack’s scream broke you away from your thoughts.

You stood up from your spot on the bench and looked out to the field to see everyone surrounding him.

Sunni came running to you. “Is he okay? Did he hurt himself? What happened?” You ask worriedly.

“He’s fine, he just landed wrong but he’s being taken to the back to get some ice on his leg, he wants you to help him.”

You nod, quickly grabbing your purse and follow where Jack was being taken to.

As you make it to the hallway, Urban shakes his head and winks at you. “What?”

He rolled his eyes “You’ll see.”

“Urban.” You warn, confused.

He laughs, “Go in there before he bursts.”

You quickly entered the room and find Jack sitting on one of the couches. “What is going on? Are you okay?”

“No-“

You rushed over to him and kneeled in front of him, your hands automatically coming up to touch his thighs, “What hurts? Should we get a doctor in here?”

He takes in a deep breath, “I need you down there.” he opens his legs wider. “Need that mouth on me.”

Your face dropped, “Jackman, did you just fake an injury?”

“Baby, I had to. I need you now” he leaned toward you taking your face in his hands, your breath hitching as his tongue danced against yours.

You instinctively straddled his waist as you continued to kiss.

Jack's hands started rubbing the side of your thighs, you knew he was growing impatient and you looked up at the ceiling for a minute.

“What’s wrong?” He started to look around too.

“Do they have cameras in here?” You were suddenly worried about the accidental sex tape that could be made.

“I don’t think so, we can hit the showers just in case?” You looked down to see the obvious growth in his shorts, biting your lip at the idea of teasing him.

“Let’s go” You grabbed his hand and made your way to the showers, you grabbed the hair tie you had in your jean pocket and messily threw your hair up before the two of you rushed inside of the private stall.

“My baby came prepared?” He chuckled.

“I know my husband pretty well I’d like to think” The two of you rushed to get undressed.

You and Jack continued to kiss under the warm shower water for a moment, he pulled and sucked on your lower lip before you ordered him to have a seat on the bench inside.

“Yes ma’am” he sat with his shoulder back and his eyes closed.

You got on your knees as the water continued to hit your backside, taking him into your mouth as softly as possible knowing he was sensitive.

His hips bucked against you making you slightly gag. He grunted before attempting to slow his pace.

“Faster” you mumbled knowing how much it would turn him on.

He followed your commands, holding onto the back of your head until your eyes began to tear up.

“Holy fuck- so pretty” he babbled.

You tapped his thigh, which was your nonverbal cue to stop.

He immediately stopped, you looked up and saw the look in his eyes. He always had a certain look and it drove you crazy every time.

“My turn” he stood up, making you sit now but instead of immediately going down on you, you saw him turn toward the shower.

“Jack- you’re not-“

“I am” he smirked, spreading your legs and giving your folds a subtle lick, the scruff of his beard teasing your thighs. He had the shower head in his hand, changing the setting to something less harsh.

He made sure to angle it specifically on your clit, making you throw your head back. Your arms reached for his shoulders to steady yourself as your legs started to uncontrollably move.

“I need you now baby, please. Please” you begged and he immediately put the shower head back, picking you up and wrapping your legs around him.

You had arched one leg up higher, setting it against his hip as he pushed through to enter you.

“You’re always so tight” he moaned. “I love- I love this, you wrap around me-“ he couldn’t finish his thoughts as he continued to thrust into you.

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, resting on the top of his shoulders and he sloppily thrust into you. You continued to bounce up and down on him when you felt your stomach get tight.

“Baby- I’m going to- soon!” You warned him.

Just as you felt the wave of your orgasm come to its peak you heard the rest of the team enter the dressing room but it was too late, you were already coming undone.

You felt your pussy throb as you came around him, letting out a loud uncontrollable moan that echoed through the locker room.

Jack knew everyone heard, and he couldn’t be more proud, the thought of asserting his dominance in a sense was the last thing he needed to orgasm himself.

“Babe- babe- baby” his sense of urgency was that he didn’t want to be as audible as you.

You quickly kissed him, covering the muffled sounds of his orgasm as he moaned into you instead.

His forehead is on your chest, you’re both taking deep breaths from your orgasm. You tug gently on the back of his curls, giving him a small peck.

“We need to get dressed before they walk in here.” You whisper.

“They already know what we were doing.”

You nod, unwrapping your legs from around his waist, him pulling out from you completely. “But it’ll be less embarrassing.”

When you collected yourselves, the two of you hurriedly got dressed and headed toward the car.

Luckily the team was gone, but Jack’s phone lit up and no doubt, you knew it was one of the guys, you felt your cheeks get hot immediately.

“Don’t tell me-“ you shook your head as Jack put his soccer bag in the car.

He chuckled, his dimple prominent.

***********

TAG LIST

@heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @arination99 @cmalass @jackharloww @minkookie95 @deannaard @jacksmoviestar @harlowcomehome @fdl305 @httpkoylinnn @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hoodharlow @automaticpeachsong @amethyst09 @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @stefansalvatoresgf @violetdreamsworld @carma-fanficaddict @jasminxts @itsaaliyah2 @itsyagirljaz @harrycanyonmoonn @neon-lights-and-glitter @awhore4moree @toocriticalharlow @thefemalestorywriter @lightsoutstyles @violetslays818

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x oc #jack harlow x yn #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow smut #harlowcomehome #fic collab #jack harlow fanfic

358 notes · View notes

fuwushiguro · 2 years

Text

Photograph, oh my mind.

photographer!Satoru Gojo x model f!reader

Genre: Smut Notes: My contribution to the DeLuxe Vault's doin' it for the fame sever collab. Enjoy!! Warnings: 18+, co-worker relationship??, strangers to lovers, love bites, dry humping, soft dom!Gojo, service dom!Gojo, oral (f receiving), tit sucking, reader has pubes!, consensual filming, nude photography, praise!kink, daddy!kink, creampie, hair pulling, fingering. Words: 4.4k

networks: @planetonet

The thought that someone like him would ever deem someone like you worthy enough to work with him is unfathomable. Truthfully, you thought there would be more chance of winning the lottery. After all, you’re nothing special.

You’re just you.

But he… he is the Satoru Gojo.

“Hello pretty girl… welcome.” he smiles at you.

He gestures to a plush white dome chair in front of his meticulously organised desk. It’s minimalist. An iMac to his left with a notebook and pen to the right. There’s short pile of published books on the desk too, some of them his own, and a bulky DSLR camera on top.

There’s a camera in his hand, too. It looks heavy. You can’t tell if he’s holding it up or if it’s pulling him down.

You take a seat and cross one leg over the other, a beaming grin on your face as you watch him circle his desk and sit in the chair behind it. He leans back in it, his foot resting on his knee and looking as lax as someone can at their place of work.

“I’m overjoyed to finally meet you, y’know…” he tells you, brilliant white pearls almost blinding you as he grins. You can’t tell whether it’s a smile for you or himself. “I gotta say, you’re even more gorgeous in the flesh.”

“M-Me? Oh… no.” you shake your head dismissively, sitting bolt upright and appearing as prim and proper as your body would allow. “I’m honoured to meet you; I couldn’t believe it when my agent told me you were in touch. I— I love your work. I have for a while…” you inform him, a warm flush of blood heats your face and you hope he doesn’t notice the way your hairline begins to dampen.

He merely snickers.

Thought he doesn’t specify if it’s because of what you said or how nervous you look.

“Really? How long is a while?” he queries, uncrossing his legs. The rests his elbows onto the pristine white desk and creates a flat surface with his hands to rest his head onto. He seems genuinely interested in hearing what you have to say.

“Well… I found your Instagram when you were posting your ‘Lips’ series.” you tell him. The confession has your gaze faltering from him, and instead looking down at your feet. You couldn’t bear to look in his eyes when he tells you that you’re too weird and obsessive to work with.

“Wow… that certainly is an awful while, isn’t it?” he smirks. “What did you think of ‘Lips’? I look back at it fondly but—”

“I love it. It’s one of my favourite things you’ve done, Mr Gojo. Actually I— no, never mind.”

“What?” he tilts his head quickly upwards hoping to coax whatever little secret you were harbouring out of you. All the while his head was swimming with the unintentional eroticism of you calling him by his title rather than his name. You’re so demure and precious; positively bashful from being here with him like this.

He observes you pick up the bag you had brought with you, assuming it was filled with spare clothes and other essentials women like to carry. But even he couldn’t hold in a delighted chuckle when you pulled out a copy of a book that also rested atop his desk.

“You’re a real fan, huh? You weren’t kidding…”

“I’m sorry. I even pre-ordered it… I love it so much and your art is so beautiful. I know this is the series that made you famous so it’s sort of nice to feel part of that, I guess… um, yeah, I’m sorry I’m a total weirdo.”

“Want me to sign it?” he asks you, earnestly.

“I’d really like that a lot, only if you don’t mind.” you reply, before you even finish your sentence he’s nodding and holding his hand out to you. He bites off his pen lid with his teeth and shoots it back down onto the desk. You watch him as he flips to the opening page and scribbles his name in masterfully. “Thank you so much for this.”

“It’s not a problem, sweetheart.” he expresses with another grin that you can’t help but find awfully attractive.

His smile is as beautiful as his art. A set of perfectly straight white teeth and a pair of plump lips that he definitely takes care of. You only wish he’d take off his sunglasses, you’d give anything to see his eyes in all of their glory.

“Well, we have something in common,” he starts, demanding even more of your attention than he’s already receiving. “I found you on Instagram, too.”

“Really? Small world…” you mumble to yourself, “There are tons of girls on there trying to be models, and I don’t get much attention compared to some of the others.”

“You have my attention. Complete and undivided, sweetheart. Been like that since the minute I saw you.” he explains. You feel your face getting hot again. He has a special way of speaking that makes you tingle. So much so that you need to squeeze your thighs to stop any building pressure, though once again, you hope he doesn’t notice.

“Um, thank you for the opportunity, Mr Gojo.”

“Of course. I’d be a fool to let a rare talent like you slip through my fingers. I’ll ask a few questions and then we can begin shooting, how does that sound?” he offers. You nod, simply, eager to get your first big modelling job underway. “Perfect… how long have you been modelling?”

“Only a year. But I used to love wearing my big sister’s high heels when I was a kid and pretending I was on a catwalk, if that counts.” you smile to yourself as you relive the memory. He begins writing in his notebook, laughing alongside you when you tell him your answer.

“Oh my God, you’re so cute.” he beams, and you can’t help but smile even wider. “I’m guessing this is your first big shoot. But what types of gigs have you booked before now?”

“Nothing major, um… a few sponsored product things on my socials. Um… some catalogue work too. I’m hoping I’ll get to do runway one day.”

“I’m sure you will,” he tells you casually, once again writing in his notebook. “Have you ever done a swimwear gig? Bikinis and coverups, things like that.”

“A handful of times. They’re my favourite since it’s usually a day in the sun!” you laugh softly at yourself. It’s like an awkward tic. You laugh at everything to make sure you sound playful and kind and hope it will alleviate any tension between you. Though it seems like you’ve fabricated tension out of thin air, Satoru Gojo is a nice guy.

“Mhmm, what about nude shoots?” he questions, a serious look on his face as he looks you dead in the eye. Carefully observing your features and the way that you answer.

“Um… no, nothing like that.” you tell him, honestly.

“Would you be willing to?” he continues.

“I— I don’t… I don’t know. I don’t think so.” you stumble over your words as you do your best to answer his questions.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you.” he expresses. He finishes writing and puts away his notebook and pen inside a drawer in the desk before resting his weight on top of it again. “Some people do, some don’t, and I’m fine with that. Do you know what this shoot is about?”

“My agent didn’t tell me much other than I have to do the shoot since it’s with you. But I would never have turned it down anyway.”

“Stop it… you’re so sweet you’ll rot my teeth.” he chuckles, “This project I’m working on is called ‘Intimate’. I’m collaborating with a celebrity I’m not allowed to namedrop yet. But that person will be choosing the best models and pictures for something… let’s say: life changing. How does that sound?”

“W-Wow… it— amazing. It sounds really amazing.”

“Oh, and in case you aren’t chosen, don’t worry. I’ll be including all of the models in my new book. So, would you like to get started?” he wonders.

“Yes, please!”

“Perfect answer, sweetheart.” he grins, standing upright and walking towards a door behind him. He holds it open and motions for you to walk through it. Quickly, you find your bag in your hand and you’re hurrying towards him and into the much darker room. “Now… this is the set-up we’ll be using, and our anonymous donor has gifted us with all of these outfits to choose from.”

There are five huge rails of clothing in the room. Each filled with a range of sleepwear, loungewear, and lingerie. The setting he mentioned is a huge fake bedroom. A large bed with gorgeous bedding and furniture decorate the space to make it look truly comfortable and homely.

“Intimate, isn’t it?” he speaks. You nod along, dumbly, but understanding why his project has been named so. “I believe that we are our most intimate selves inside of a bed. Whether it’s our own, a friends, lovers, strangers.”

“That’s really beautiful, Mr Gojo.”

“Heh, thank you, baby.” he replies graciously. “We have all day. You can dress yourself or let me decide what you’ll wear. I want to help you win. Are you in touch with yourself to know how to achieve that; or do you need someone else to take control of you?”

You turn away from him to look at the clothes, as well as to hide your flushed face and the way you’re biting your lip. He inspects you as you allow your fingertips to dance along the fabric of all of the clothing. There’s so much choice. So many options to choose from and you have no idea where to begin.

And he knows it.

And that is why it doesn’t surprise him one bit when you turn to him with a meek look on your face and a sparkle in your pleading gaze.

“Please help me, Mr Gojo.”

He smirks and saunters over to the clothing rails. There is an empty one you hadn’t initially noticed in the darkness of the room. He uses it to load his selection for you before wheeling it over to a changing curtain for you.

“Babe? I have some advice for you.” he starts. You stand in front of him as he towers over you, waiting to be showered in his worldly knowledge. “The modelling world, particularly catwalk, is incredibly fast paced.”

“I knew that already, Mr Gojo.”

“It’s so fast paced, that you’ll have to get used to letting people see you without clothes on. You’re not anywhere worthwhile if there isn’t ten pairs of tits in your face behind the scenes.”

He leaves you with that and starts to set up his lighting and cameras how he’d like them. Before you disappear behind the changing curtain, you notice him loading a camera onto a tripod. He’d hung up all of the outfits he’d like you to wear in order, so he’s delighted when you emerge from the curtain head to toe in the co-ordinated grey teddy loungewear set he picked for you. A little vest with long trousers and a long coverup gown.

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re a vision…” he smiles, tilting his head in the direction of the bed so that you’ll sit down. He looms above you, your neck craning backwards so that you can look each other in the eye. He pulls off his glasses and tosses them across the room, retreating away from you and picking up a black headband to keep his hair out of his face. “Will you let me touch your makeup?” he asks happily. You nod.

He approaches with a box filled to the brim with makeup. But instead of touching up, you see him pick up a face wipe and brings it closer to you.

“Ah! Don’t, I won’t win if I—”

“Intimate selves, remember? Let me take control sweetheart, promise it won’t be so bad.” he assures you.

You take a deep breath and allow him to do with you as he wishes. He spends some time removing your makeup, you don’t even realise until you hear him shuffle backwards and exhale deeply.

“So beautiful,” he tells you, two fingers and a thumb caressing your face whilst resting a makeup brush between his pinkie and ring finger. He rests down on the balls of his feet as he carefully paints your lips in a soft nude colour to match your features. He manages to coat the top lip with no issue, but your lower keeps fighting him and springing back into place. “Your bottom lip looks a little sore.” he informs you.

“O-Oh,” you stutter, accidentally biting your lip again.

“Ah, that’s the culprit.” he smirks, using the face wipe to take away the colour. “You look perfect as you are, you don’t need any of this shit.” he explains, throwing the brush back into the box and kicking it away.

You smile again, looking down as your vision catches Gojo’s camera around his neck. You look back to the one on the tripod and wonder why there is a need for two. But upon further inspection, you notice it flashing. A little red dot telling you there is a lurking eye spying on you.

“Mr Gojo…”

“Satoru is fine, y’know.”

“Satoru… are you filming this?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah, I got distracted and forgot to tell you. Me and you-don’t-know-who are making a little documentary out of this. It’s up to you whether you’d like me to film or not, I can shut it off. But you’ll need to sign some consent forms either way.”

“No, that’s okay. It sounds like fun!” you simper. He winks at you before ruffling your hair, pulling it out of its tie and letting it cascade around you.

“Show me what you can do.” he demands, holding his camera to his eye and watching you get into position from him.

Your ears ring with beep after beep with each flashing photograph taken. You’re in your element, though. Gojo notices it too. The way you’ve transformed from being so weak and timid to seductive and confident.

He isn’t letting you be photographed. You’re letting him photograph you.

Clothing becomes less and less as you work your way through the rail. You work your way through sets of lingerie and posing like you’re a cover girl for Playboy, you might even be worthy of being called a bunny.

You’re down to a pair of borg shorts and a mismatched bra. Gojo is on the bed with you, between your legs. With your back flat against the mattress and your head in the pillows, he takes numerous pictures of you looking flirtatiously into the lens.

“Satoru?”

“Yes, baby.”

“I changed my mind,” you start, prompting him to lower his camera. “I’d like you to photograph me nude.” you tell him without any hesitation or reluctance in your tone. It earns yet another grin from Gojo, who nods in acceptance of your sudden change of heart.

“Let’s make this a progression… unclasp your bra but don’t take it off.” he suggests.

You do as you’re told and lie in wait of what to do next. He simply returns to photographing you, which in turn leads to you posing some more. After a few more shutter sounds, he traces his finger across your collarbone to pull down one of the straps of the bra to your bicep.

It’s a sensual journey. One that carries on until one of your nipples peaks out from below the garish midnight blue bra that had been cupping your tits. He keeps snapping shots of you without pause, catching every inch of your true intimate self.

“Take it off now for me.” he instructs.

You pull it forward by the middle section until your breasts are being presented bare to him. There is a look in his eye. One that tells you he’s fighting against his primal urge to cop a feel and focus on the task at hand. And that, he does. A continuous string of photos are taken as you move and pose the best way you know how while your tits move beautifully along with you. Each movement forces a jiggle, one that Satoru Gojo is fighting to ignore.

He lowers the camera, you notice his hand reach towards you before he balls it into a soft yet defiant fist.

“You really are something, you know. So God damn beautiful.”

“Do you want to touch me, Mr Gojo?” you ask him, genuinely. You can’t deny the way this is making you feel. The way he is making you feel and has been making you feel since you stepped foot into his studio.

“I can’t.”

“You can, I—”

“It’s… it’s inappropriate. Maybe illegal? I’m not sure, but I can’t.”

“Mr Gojo… I can feel how hard your cock is. Please, just touch me.” you request, your voice almost whimpering as you practically beg for his contact. “It’s okay, really. I want you to touch me.”

He considers your words for a moment or two. And soon enough, he’s deciding that he can’t fight it anymore. He puts the camera down on the ground, freeing his hands so he can feel you and only you.

His hands are warm. He’s gentle with his touch, and his squeezing is soft. You mewl when his fingers and thumbs stray to your pert nipple.

“Gorgeous all around, hm? Even your moans are pretty.” he praises you.

You shudder as he lowers his mouth to your neck, kissing and suckling just enough to leave faint love bites as he carries on fondling your breasts. Soon he’s travelling south. Your collarbone is showered in tender affection and the same is gifted between the valley of your breasts.

“Tell me if you need me to stop or slow down.” Gojo informs you.

You look down at him, nodding, before he latches onto your breast to suckle and softly bite at it. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Each word spoke, each touch and each kiss from his lips is rushing straight to your cunt and making you feel heady.

A surprised gasp leaves you as you feel him wrap his arms around your back. You feel a chill as you’re quickly manoeuvred so that he’s sitting upright on the edge of the bed and you’re straddling him. He cups the back of your head with one hand and lets his other rest firmly in the small of your back.

He kisses you, deeply. It’s slow and passionate. Dare you say, intimate. You’re licking each other’s tongues gently as it continues to progress. Your hips rut against his throbbing hard-on through his dress-pants.

“You’re so perfect, baby. I knew I had to have you when I saw you.” he admits, it makes you giggle and throw your head back. He takes the opportunity to kiss your neck even more.

He picks you up again and keeps you on the edge of the bed. His fingers delve into your shorts, pausing only to ask, “May I?”

“I— I haven’t shaved. I’m sorry, I know I should have for a modelling job I just—”

You yelp as he tugs off your shorts and panties in one swift motion. He holds your legs open, and you can no longer support yourself. Your body collapses into the mattress as he examines your sex. He lets your legs relax as he pushes two fingers between your lips. They don’t enter you; he’s just enamoured by the wet and sticky sounds echoing around the room. His thumb brushes over your pubic hair, he notes the texture of it and his eyes roll back into his head.

“I like girls like you. I prefer girls like this.” he informs you. He picks up your legs again to move them over his shoulders. And just as he’s about to delve into your folds, he pauses. He takes a firm hold of your ankle and brings it closer to his face. He sniffs carefully and does the same with the other, kissing them both before putting them back where they were. “Did you put perfume on your ankles? It’s like you expected something like this to happen…” he smirks, pulling your warm flesh closer to him by your thighs.

“I— I didn’t know… but ‘m glad I did!” you reply.

He smiles once more before burying his face in your cunt. The way he laps and laves at your clit is masterful. Your fingers begin to rake through his hair, and you start to pull in an attempt to steady yourself. He groans, and it almost sounds pleasurable. You think he might like getting his hair pulled.

He slavers his tongue down from your pulsing clit to your drooling entrance. Savouring the taste and mixing it with his own saliva to make you a sopping mess.

He uses it all to his advantage. You’re forcing him closer into you with each pull of his hair, you think you might die if he stops. He slips a finger inside of you; followed by a second, which is your complete undoing.

“’m cumming!” you announce, loud enough for everyone in the building to hear, probably. You reach your climax, writhing and pulsating on the bed beneath you all while Gojo tries to drink every last drop of the mess you’ve made of yourself and him. “F-Fuck… you wore me out G-Gojo…”

“Get bored of calling me Mr Gojo?” he asks jokingly, spurring you on to chuckle at his comment.

“Are you into that?” you wonder.

“Babe,” you look up and observe him as he climbs on top of you, caging you in beneath him. “I don’t care if you call me mister, sir, Satoru, daddy. It doesn’t matter. ‘Cause you’re gonna be babbling so dumb when I fuck you.”

“Y-You wanna fuck me? Right now?”

“Yeah, right now.” he tells you as he holds you up in his arms and then places you back down the right way in the bed. “Oh, by the way, I wouldn’t oppose to daddy if you have a desire to yell something out for me.” he adds as he opens your legs for you.

You giggle at the thought of calling him daddy; seeing how it’s one of your favourite names to yell out in bed, too. You observe him as he unzips his trousers, pulling them down to his knees so that you can see the thick, long imprint of his cock bulging against his underwear. When you look up, you notice him staring at you and smirking all the while, forcing you to look away in humiliation. He pulls down his boxes slowly, only revealing the base and his own pubic hair. He quickly unbuttons his shirt and throws it aside, taking note of how patiently you’re waiting for him.

“You look so sweet f’me, sweetheart. Waiting for daddy’s cock like a good girl.” he grins. It forces you to bite your lip again, watching in anticipation for him to pull down his underwear enough for you to see him. Really see him.

His cock springs free and slaps against his abdomen. A little shimmer of pre decorating his six pack. He’s huge. Thick and veiny with a perfectly rounded tip. It’s dusted with a shy shade of pink and it’s leaking so deliciously.

So much so that you stick your tongue out and attempt to taste him. He pushes you back down, though, and traps you in his arms.

“Not now, angel, next time.” he speaks.

“Next time?”

“Yeah, I want to see you again. I want to take more pictures of you and I wanna eat your pussy again. And after this… I know I’m gonna wanna fuck you again.” he tells you, lining his cock up with your eager hole and slowly plunging inside. “Mmmpff, so tight. Such a pretty, tight pussy.” he huffs, taking his time to bottom out inside of you.

“Ah—! S-Shit, daddy. Think you’re in my throat…” you moan. He snickers before setting an almost idle pace. Doing his best to get you accustomed to his size. “F-Faster… please go-o faster, d-daddy.” you request. He kisses your cheek and picks up more speed.

And more speed.

His hips are slamming against yours and you’re both moaning uncontrollably. His mouth is level with your ear and the reverse is also true. Both of you humming and groaning lustful sounds into each other’s ears as you enjoy giving into your natural instincts.

He wasn’t wrong about you babbling complete nonsense. You think with each pummel of his thrusts accompanied with the sweetest praise you’ve ever received both your brain and internal organs have turned to goo.

You can’t even tell him you’re about to cum you’re so fucked out. But he knows. Your body gives you away as your pussy clenches around him, sucking him in deeper than either of you thought he could go. And with that, your insides are pulling him right over the edge of his own orgasm right along with you, flooding your walls with his cum.

He’s sweating, and panting.

You both are.

You begin to giggle as he lowers his head to kiss your neck again. Your eyes are closed and your head rolls to the side as he continues tickling you with his lips. When your eyes open, you gasp shallowly as your eyes lock with the blinking light of the filming camera. Gojo’s head raises to see what’s wrong.

“We forgot about the camera…”

“Oh, shit. Got carried away, didn’t we?” he laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll delete it. Or cut it out. I’ll do something.” he tells you, an assuring twinkle in his heavenly eyes.

“Thanks, Satoru.”

“But first…” he tells you, rolling off of you and lying by your side and inviting you to rest your head on his chiselled chest. “Like I said, we’ve got all day. Why don’t we order some food and watch it back before it’s gone forever?” he suggests, and it’s quite an enticing offer. You pretend to think about it before nodding excitedly.

He holds you, though. Like you’re delicate and need him to keep you safe. And you can’t deny that it’s nice. Someone you’ve adored and looked up to for so long is treating you like you’re precious. Like you’re special.

“I like sushi… by the way.” you tell him, quietly.

“Then we’ll order sushi.”

tag list form ➪ here

1K notes · View notes

drunk-on-dk · 1 year

Text

1-800-CUPID | Boo Seungkwan (m)

Pairing: Boo Seungkwan x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff/Romance, Slice of Life, f2l, Smut (18+ only, Minors DNI)

w/c: ~7.0k words (editing was hard on this, sorry if there are any mistakes)

a/n: Happy Valentine's Day to all you lovely people! This is part of the @svthub The Story of Pink Eros ~ A Valentine’s Day Collab, please go support all the other wonderful writers who have written for this collab as well as eve4ryone in the network. They are all such wonderful, talented people, and I was very excited for my first collab ever!

content warnings below the cut!

c/w: protected sex!; some fluff, some romance, reader is having a tough few weeks and is a bit cynical; teasing; a bit of unrealistic scenarios but it's all for fun; mutual pining; hotline bling boo; (reunited) friends to lovers; some Jun x reader mention, but minor plot; alcohol mentions; explicit smut but relatively vanilla; love-making of sorts; lots of praise and whining; a bit of marking if you squint; please let me know if i'm missing anything big!

Today had to have been a cruel joke on top of your, for lack of better words, already shitty-ass week. Work was more stressful than usual with the end of the year reports still piling on your desk even though it’s already February. The sad part was even if you wanted to cut lose after work, you didn’t have any friendly enough coworkers to grab a drink with and complain about the amount of work you’re drowning in together. Nor did you have any friends who lived close enough to invite out last minute.

The cherry on top was the painful reminder of your lackluster love life upon passing the local flower shop on the way home from yet another late night in the office. You scoffed at the array of gorgeous red-rose bouquets and tacky heart shaped chocolate boxes when you had passed the cute shop. The disdain you felt must have made you black out a bit because, before you knew it, you found yourself in the convenience store a few blocks down with two of your favorite wine bottles in hand.

Thank God it’s Friday, you thought. At least you can unwind tonight.

Coming to reality and humming in approval, you settle on grabbing a pack of your favorite ramen as well, grumbling slightly to yourself before heading to the self-check-out. “Well deserved, right? Who says I can’t enjoy my own presence. I don’t need someone to buy me flowers or chocolate. Wine and ramen will suffice.”

Sure – maybeyou were being bit cynical, but after the week you had you didn’t care if you were going a bit crazy. It was well justified.

However, the questioning look that the cute old lady gave you in the checkout next to yours did make you feel a bit sheepish, apologizing slightly for your off-putting behavior and giving her a bright smile in return when you politely bid her a good night.

By the time you got home, you were already kicking your heels off your sore feet before you even made it past your apartment door. Quickly making a beeline for the wine opener tucked away in the depths of the kitchen drawers and shedding your work clothes after pouring yourself a hefty glass of wine. Tonight was going to be a movie night you determined, opting to change into your usual movie-watching uniform - everything is oversized and enough to keep you cozy and warm.

Letting out a sigh, you sink into the anticipated comfort of your well-lived-in couch. It was soothing to cozy up with a blanket after a long day, taking a sip of your wine and letting the warm, tingly feeling of the slightly tarte liquid wash over your body.

Even with your pessimistic, slight mental breakdown over the Valentine’s Day gifts earlier, you found yourself pulling up The Notebook. Why the hell not at this point? You sure could use a good cry.

And you sure did have a good cry. About a wine bottle and a half into the movie, the crocodile tears were rolling uncontrollably down your cheeks. To be fair, you never cried this much during an inane romance movie, but this week had you craving affection, like would you ever find the Noah to your Allie? You could really use a good hug right now, at least.

It was almost a sign from the heavens above when a number for the local relationship advice hotline came up as an advertisement on one of your social medias after the movie had ended.

Honestly, your algorithms were getting a little too accurate lately.

However, rather than being freaked out by the oddly direct ad, something possesses you to give the line a call. Maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the movie, maybe it’s been your wildly stressful week. Maybe it’s the shitty dating app that somehow always lands you a crap date. But, with your nth bereaved sigh of the day, you slowly tap the 1-800 number into your keypad. It seemed legitimate enough, unlike one of those ‘Find Hot Sexy Singles in Your Area’ sort of advertisements.

1-800-CUPID – a quick tap of the phone button has you dialing the hotline. You almost fly off your couch when the line starts playing an elevator-esque soundtrack rather than the usual ringing sound.

There was time to back out. There is time to hang up the phone. Surely the operator wouldn’t be offended if you just hung up.

Just like that the music cuts out – a cheery voice now introducing themselves on the other line, and much to your dismay you found yourself unable to end the impulsive phone call after somewhat recognizing the voice.

“Hello, you have successfully reached Cupid, the hotline for all your relationship and dating questions. Please note that all calls are recorded and monitored. This is Boo talking, how may I assist you today?”

“Boo?” You mutter out dumbly after a beat goes by. Your mind is racing, becoming a bit dizzy from how hard you’re thinking and the foggy haze of the sweet alcohol, swearing you could identify the voice on the other side of the call.

“Yes, this is Boo!” He chirps. “I am one of the local cupids right in your area. How can I help you?”

There is a slight cadence to his tone that has the lightbulb going off in your head, actually making you jump up from the couch this time, needing to stabilize yourself a bit before talking again.

“Boo?” You almost shriek. “Could this by chance be a Boo Seungkwan I’m speaking to?”

You can hear him hum hesitantly over the speaker, only encouraging you to keep pressing for an answer.

“This is Y/N Y/L/N,” you continue, starting to doubt if you should be sharing this information, but screw it. You swear you hear him gasp in slight recognition, but you continue regardless. “From university? I’m not sure if you’d remember, but you still owe me that drink you promised me on graduation day.”

For a second, you find yourself smiling, reminiscing on your college days, and thinking of the bright boy that you adored so much. Boo Seungkwan had your heart for most of your college years, but you never dared to act upon it. Afterall, he was too busy meddling in other people’s business, including yours. He used to tease you incessantly, poking and prodding at your plans, constantly trying to set you up on blind dates, but never noticing how much you doted over him.

Your heart was pounding at this point, unsure of how you ever lost contact with Seungkwan, and how stupid you’d feel if it wasn’t him.

“Ding ding ding,” he sing-songs. “I remember the drink I owe you. You bet that Kim Mingyu would trip over his own feet during his diploma acceptance and you won.”

You were literally happy dancing, feet quietly shuffling beneath you after receiving confirmation that you were right. You somehow ended up reconnecting with Boo Seungkwan over a damn relationship hotline call.

“Sorry, Y/N, but why’d you call the 1-800-Cupid hotline?”

Shit, you’re faced with reality again, aren’t you? Thanks, Seungkwan.

“Well, Boo,” you teasingly emphasis his call name, but exhale sorrowfully before continuing. “My love life isn’t so great post-undergrad life either. Surprise, surprise.”

“Ah, still prioritizing work just like you did in uni? You know you always worked too hard, but I think that’s why we were two peas-in-a-pod back then.”

A shy smile falls on your features, “maybe, but honestly, I don’t really know why I even called. Just a bit glum about my dating life, and this call was a spur of the moment thing. Speaking of, why are you working for a relationship hotline?”

“It’s a fun side-job,” he simply states, and you can almost imagine the satisfactory purse of his lips and shrug of his shoulders. “Anyways, is there a way that I can assist? Once again, the call is recorded and monitored.”

You let out a bit of a chuckle, “actually, yes, why not? Do you have any suggestions on how I can land myself a valentine this year?”

There is a bit of a flirty lilt to your tone, but, unless he ignores it, it seems to go right over Seungkwan’s head. Shit, maybe you do need dating or relationship advice.

“Well, Y/N, where do we begin? What are your plans for this weekend?”

“I was just going to stay in and – “

“ACK,” he cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. “Wrong answer. First of all, you need to get out and meet new people, make some attempts at flirting. It doesn’t mean you have to go clubbing and all of that, just try getting out to your local coffee shop and making eyes with the cute barista. Second of all,” he huffs slightly before continuing, “put your work down for a night and focus on yourself. Some good self-care can really help more than you’d think. Treat yourself with something good for you. Finally, maintain a positive attitude, don’t be so grouchy about love like I know you are. Go out and after applying those rules, and I’m sure you’ll have someone falling head over heels for you.”

You hum in consideration, taking note of what he said, but not sure how much it all helped. “Thanks, Boo,” you can’t help but tease him. “I’mnot sure how much I can accomplish in a weekend, but I can give it a shot.”

“My pleasure, is there anything else I can assist with? Any other dating questions?”

“I think that is enough for one night, Boo. I’m shocked I even called, but I’m glad it was you somehow.”

The line goes silent for a bit, unsure if you accidentally disconnected, wondering if maybe there was a time limit on the hotline, but then he speaks again.

“I’m glad I could help,” he sighs, but you could almost picture the smile on his face. “Well, this will complete your call with your local cupid, Boo. Have a wonderful evening!”

Just like that the call is over. Part of you feels a bit better, enjoying connecting with an old friend, but also slightly dejected that it was just over a one-time, freak accident call to a love hotline.

This had sent you into an hour long spiral, searching through your phone for his old cell number, but finding that you had lost it upon purchasing a new phone and losing all your backup data. You scoured the internet for his social medias and came across some of his accounts. However, you refrained from reaching out just yet, determining that it may be a little too soon to pounce on the idea of reuniting in person after the hotline call.

However, you did have a new fervor after speaking with Seungkwan. He was right, you really should just get out in the world, take some time with yourself, and drop your glum attitude.

You found yourself doing some self-care the next day, just as he suggested, deciding to take baby steps before you enter the real-world. Really, you took your time, deciding to make a full-course breakfast and finally sitting down to read the book you’ve had on your shelf for month now that you’d been dying to crack open.

You felt a bit rejuvenated after just doing that in the morning. Usually, you’d find yourself pulling out your work laptop, the curse of remote work still haunting you even on the weekends though you didn’t have to put time in during them, you just felt obligated to work.

However, taking the morning for yourself had been nice, and was a good kick-start for a full day of self-care routines. You cleaned up your apartment; washed your bed sheets and pillows; practiced some mindful meditation; and even pampered yourself with an at-home spa treatment.

Truthfully, when you woke up the next day, you were feeling brighter than ever before on a Sunday. For the first time in a while, you took your time getting ready, rather than following your dull work routine, and drove yourself to your local coffee shop.

You had followed Seungkwan’s advice so far, taking on self-care and attempting to go out and meet new people. But, oh how hard it was to stay positive though, especially when the coffee shop was flooded with couples sharing cute, themed drinks and pastries.

You reigned yourself in though, trying not to roll your eyes at the lovely couples, but rather smiling brightly at the admittedly cute, blonde barista behind the register. Allowing your eyes to dart to his name tag, you noted his name was Jun, and he had a couple of endearing moles dotted on his face.

“What can I get for you today?” You can tell he’s a sweetheart just by his tone of voice, and his kindness travels to his eyes.

Hey, maybe Seungkwan’s, AKA Boo from 1-800-Cupid’s, advice would work, maybe you could find yourself a valentine out in the wild like this. Why not flirt it up with the cute barista like he had mentioned?

“Just an iced Americano, please,” you respond politely, gently handing him your card when he gives you your total.

“It’ll be ready in a few minutes,” Jun says with a shy smile, nodding to the corner of the counter where he’ll place your drink once it’s all set. Whilst he prepares your drink, you two continuously make brief eye-contact, each time making Jun’s ears turn a darker hue of red.

Is this flirting? Are you doing a good job at making someone flustered? Uh-oh, maybe you’ll have to buy Seungkwan a drink for giving you helpful advice. You’re not really doing anything out of the ordinary, but he was convincing enough to get you out from under your rock.

Your suspicions are confirmed when Jun hands you your drink, a phone number scribbled on the cardboard sleeve wrapped around the cup with his name.

Oh shoot, he just gave you his number.

He’s quick to turn away, seemingly shy by his bold attempt at giving you his number, but you politely respond with a thank you, acknowledging the number on the cup with a small ‘cheers’ motion.

There is a bit of a pep in your step when you leave the coffee shop, wandering down the block and breathing in the crisp winter air until you find yourself a comfortable park bench.

Mmm, an Americano has never tasted so sweet.

You’re about to enter Jun’s number into your phone to text him until someone jumps in front of you, their shadow blocking the sun from your face and illuminating their figure when you look up at them.

Low and behold, it’s Boo Seungkwan in the flesh, a sun halo surrounding his frame and making the boy look more angelic than you remember him being, his cherubic features lighting up in delight when you finally recognize him.

You’re leaping into his arms at this point, your own arms wrapping around him and almost losing your iced americano in the process.

Apologizing profusely for almost spilling coffee all over him, you excited greet your old friend, “Seungkwan! You’ll never believe how my weekend has gone so far. Or should I say, Boo from 1-800-Cupid, because your advice worked. I was given someone’s number today!”

You can tell Seungkwan is trying to process your excited rambling, shaking his head upon receiving your praise with a pshhh sound escaping his rosebud lips. However, his smile widens once he realizes just how happy you are. “I’m glad to hear it helped, Y/N.”

Once again, there is that silence between you two, the only sound being the swirling wintery wind and the sound of your breath as you calm down from your excitement. Your stomach is doing flips and you swear your entire body has heated up an additional 20 degrees even though you’re drinking an iced americano in cold weather.

Something about Seungkwan still makes your brain and heart short wire even after all these years. You’d like to think that maybe you have a similar effect on him, especially when he seems to attempt to speak, but can’t seem to form a coherent sentence.

Little did you know, Seungkwan was shocked just by how beautiful you were a year or so after graduating. You sounded even more mature than you had been before over the call he had with you, and he could only assume how well time had treated you. He was correct, you were still just as stunning to him, if not, even more than before.

“It’s good to see you in person, Seungkwan,” you finally breathe out, deciding to encourage some sort of conversation rather than staring blankly at each other.

“It’s a bit of an odd coincidence, isn’t it?” He jokes, “Somehow you ended up calling my side-gig, and somehow I’ve ended up walking past you on my way to the shops.”

“Maybe it means we should be friends again?” You nudge him slightly, enjoying the way he leans into you to push you away a bit, a slight blush shading his cheeks when you continue to reminisce on your college years.

Such as that time Vernon spilled his coffee all over the tech room keyboard, earning him a $50 fine to replace the new one after he had spent all his money on new headphones. Or that time that Mingyu fell down a flight of stairs at a frat party, only to pop up after the entire crowd gasped and chug an entire beer. Mingyu and you had kissed that night, which that memory earned a slight roll of the eye and snarl of the lip from Seungkwan.

You two had found yourself in the coffee shop again after Seungkwan had slurped down your americano, even though he had only intended to sample it. Jun was still working the counter and seemed a bit surprised at your reappearance, especially with a new friend this time, but greeted you just as charmingly as earlier.

Seungkwan found himself meddling in whatever you and Jun had going. You begged him not to say anything to the unsuspecting barista, but Boo, AKA Mr. Cupid as you’d like to dotingly refer to him as, couldn’t hold back his attempt to strike the boy with his arrow.

Oddly enough, Seungkwan had somehow landed you a date for tonight with Jun. Unsure on how he could have ever accomplished that, but that was Seungkwan for you.

Admittedly, Seungkwan did it just because you were so cute when you were flustered. It was just like how he’d mess with you in college. He liked the way your cheeks blushed when you were informed that Jun agreed to a date with you. He liked the way that you suddenly got nervous, slightly panicking over what you could possibly wear to a dinner. He really liked the way you pulled him into a tight hug, basking in your warm scent as you nuzzled into him before saying goodbye.

Of course, you two exchanged numbers again, letting him know that you had lost his, but you’d like to catch up some more. Seungkwan obliged, hoping you’d ask to do so, and that maybe he could buy you that drink he owed you. However, you insisted you now owed him a drink after successfully landing you a date around Valentine’s Day.

Seungkwan wouldn’t admit it, but he could feel his heart strings pull at the thought of you going on this date. It was unfair to him how he suddenly had you back in his life, but here he is, self-sabotaging, and encouraging you to take a path in your love life that does not lead you back to him.

He sighs dejectedly as he watches you walk away, that bright smile of yours burning into his memory as you turn around to wave him one last goodbye, shouting out a “no good luck?” and only turning back around once Seungkwan lets you know to “break a leg, you’ll need it.”

Seungkwan’s heart broke a little more when he didn’t hear from you that night. He assumed the date went well, and that his job here was done. Maybe he finally had a successful intervention in your love life, even though he didn’t have the guts to approach you himself. Maybe he was just projecting onto you, he should really take his own advice sometime.

Interestingly, you had texted Seungkwan the next day with no mention of the date. He tried to ask about it, but you didn’t spill any details.

Honestly, you were a bit embarrassed. Jun and you quickly realized you were not at all compatible romantic relationship-wise, and he kept making comments about how close you and Seungkwan seemed, no matter how much you insisted that this was the first time you’d seen him in a while.

Jun had given you a dubious look, sighing and offering some of his own advice. “How about rather than meeting new people, maybe you should focus on rekindling what you already clearly have.”

Jun’s words stuck with you; the date had gone well, but not romantically. He was a great guy, but he was right. You could not get Seungkwan out of your head, and everything in you was refraining from typing up a long-winded paragraph to the boy you had just reunited with, confessing your everlasting feelings that just can’t seem to be shaken off.

Cupid got you good. However, it seems as if his arrow misfired and hit you, inevitably making you fall deeper for Mr. Cupid himself.

Seungkwan couldn’t shake the aching feeling, he was anxiety ridden about your date, constantly asking if you’ve seen Jun again, or begging you to let him know if it went well.

God, Seungkwan thought, maybe he was a bit too powerful in his meddling after all.

It had been a week since your first date with Jun. Jun was right, you shouldn’t be meeting new people, not when you had Seungkwan back in your reach.

It was another horrible week at work and Valentine’s Day was approaching. However, this week when you saw the Valentine’s gifts on your walk home, part of you yearned to receive them. No longer scoffing at the chocolate and flower arrangements, but now dreaming of receiving them from you-know-who.

Seungkwan was also driven a bit mad. Growing increasingly infuriated at your lack of information, especially since he had helped you land the date in the first place. Especially not because it was internally making his heart shrivel with each passing day. Nope, he refused to admit the continuous ping of his heart with each text message he received from you.

Seungkwan (Boo AKA Mr. Cupid): earth to Y/N? any updates? V-day is coming up and I need to know if I’ve done my job

Y/N : no details that are of any interest to you!!!

Seungkwan (Boo AKA Mr. Cupid): umm hello? they are all of interest to me

Y/N: now why would that be?

Seungkwan almost believes he is caught red-handed until his phone pings with another message from you.

Y/N: What about that drink you owe me? Maybe I can fill you in then

Seungkwan (Boo AKA Mr. Cupid): Deal… meet me at Barry’s Bar at 7 pm and I’ll get you that drink in exchange for an update

Y/N: see you then!! no promises though! This is a drink from an old bet, there is no obligation to update you on my dating status

Seungkwan scoffs, but he’s always loved the banter that came naturally between you two. Even though he knows it will be like pulling teeth to get any information from you, Seungkwan is still looking forward to getting drinks with you, finally having the opportunity to spend time with you in person again.

Seungkwan doesn’t know it, but you make the extra effort tonight. You go through all your self-care steps before catching a cab to Barry’s Bar, even going as far to spray your special perfume before heading out.

You don’t’ know it, but Seungkwan’s breath catches in his chest when you arrive. Did you just get more beautiful every time he saw you? Did you have a glow because you were dating Jun?

Seungkwan is quick to buy you your first drink, clinking your two beer bottles together in a toast.

“Cheers to Mingyu tripping and falling at commencement!” You joke before taking a sip, almost getting sprayed by Seungkwan who had already taken his own sip and choking down his laughter and drink.

Once he settles, he almost curses you out for saying such a thing when he had already taken a drink. You chuckle almost maniacally, loving the rise you get out of him from embarrassing him slightly, finding it endearing how his lips purse to hide his impending smile, and noting the way his cheekbones rise even higher from holding back more laugher. Fuck – he’s cute.

Everything is so natural between you two, you quickly notice after a couple of more drinks. Seungkwan refuses to let you pay for any, especially when you finally drunkenly admit that there is nothing between you and Jun.

You almost swear he seems relieved when you dish the news, noting the way his tense shoulders relax and how one side of his lips quirk upwards. His reaction deserves a teasing smack to the arm, earning a pathetic whine from you as the thought of Jun possibly reading the situation incorrectly may land you back in no-love-life-ville. Seungkwan not reciprocating your feelings floods your mind and sends you into a considerable twist of emotions.

Seungkwan isn’t sure what to do when suddenly you’re tearing up. He swears you haven’t drunk that much, nor did he think Jun mattered all that much to you.

“What’s wrong?” He’s quick to soften, fingers instinctively reaching out to brush away the tears staining your cheek, and eyes darting around to make sure there are no concerned on-lookers. “What happened, Y/N?”

It doesn’t go unnoticed how you lean into Seungkwan’s hand, the palm of his hand burning up as you press your soft cheek further into his touch. It makes Seungkwan’s heart skip yet another beat.

“Could you please not meddle with my love life anymore? I know it was my fault calling that hotline, but I didn’t think it would have been you. Can you not do what you did in university? Just please stay out of it?”

“Of course, is there anything I can do though otherwise?” His voice is quiet, almost hard to hear if it wasn’t for the fact that he was slowly leaning closer towards you from where he’s sat on his own barstool.

“Can you just give me a hug?”

Seungkwan is quick to pull you into his embrace, gentle hand brushing through your hair as he soothes you. He’s not sure where this is all coming from still, but he doesn’t have it in him to banter with you, especially when you just started crying in a public place.

“Anything else, Y/N?”

You’re deciding to be bold, attempting to test the waters even though you fumbled the bag a bit. Really, you wanted to confess that you couldn’t date Jun because you’ve come to about your feelings about Seungkwan, but you broke down before you could even mutter a confession. You sniffle, pulling back from the boy and emboldening yourself, “could you come home with me?”

Seungkwan almost chokes but refrains from questioning your intentions. He doesn’t want to assume anything, but his heart quickens even faster than the rate it’s been at all night with you.

Once again, when Seungkwan fails to speak, you speak up again. “I don’t feel like drinking much more. Just for comfort? It’s been another long week and I just need a friend.”

Seungkwan almost feels disappointed at the word friend, but he could never reject you, even if it meant you two were forever on ‘friend’ terms. “Of course, let’s go, Y/N.”

Seungkwan takes you home safely, offering his shoulder to lean on throughout the cab ride home. His thumb rubs comforting circles into your thigh the entire way, which is enough to make heat pool in your belly, but you try to suppress it.

The tension is thick when you two enter the elevator, neither of you know how to decipher it, but something has clearly changed. Seungkwan’s hand never leaves your waist, thumb still rubbing your body soothingly, but you assume it’s more of a protective thing rather than an advance on you.

Of course, he is painfully respectful. He patiently waits for you to shower, setting up camp on your couch and flipping on whatever show is on TV. For now, you find refuge in the shower, trying to cool yourself down and get your head on straight.

Seungkwan bites his lip when you pass by in a towel, a shy look on your face when you notice he’s caught you. You change into your normal pajamas, grabbing him a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, and deciding to continue your emboldened actions.

Maintain a positive attitude, like he once said. Stop crying and wallowing in self-pity and get your act together.

You plop down awkwardly next to him on the couch with the folded clothes, only to turn and present them to him with a question. “Stay the night? Maybe we can share the bed like we did in college a few times when we’d all pile into one dorm room after a night of drinking?”

You try to make it sound innocent, but you yearn for his touch.

Your heart almost flips when he wordlessly agrees, grabbing the clothes out of your hand and letting you know he’s going to change.

Once Seungkwan has changed, you can’t help but giggle at the clothes on him. Your ratty t-shirt looks awfully cute as he models it for you, claiming “it’s the softest thing I’ve ever put on,” when you let him know he looks ridiculous.

Seungkwan pulls you into a bear hug when you continue to tease him, tugging you into an endearing embrace as you two giggle in unison.

It’s all too cute for you and it has you pulling away to prevent yourself from cracking again. Seungkwan seems to feel the same, clearing his throat before releasing you, and awkwardly peering at the ground beneath his feet.

“I’m pretty tired, I don’t know about you,” you fake yawn in between your words, “but I’m ready to go to bed.”

“Of course,” Seungkwan agrees, nodding promptly and following you to your room. “I’m pretty tired too.”

You slowly pull your sheets up, slipping beneath the warm comforter and looking at him expectantly.

“Are you sure you want me to sleep in your bed?”

“Why not? For old-time’s sake.”

Seungkwan nods again, seeming to be in deep thought as he slowly joins you under the covers, repeating what you had already said, “for old-time’s sake.”

Once again, it is all too natural the way his body finds yours, pulling you experimentally against his body. He’s so soft and so warm, and your skin is littered with goosebump with each warm breath of his against the shell of your ear.

You’re not sure if you can fall asleep, but you find yourself dozing off into the best rest you’ve had in weeks. With Seungkwan you’re not as stressed, he’s always had that effect on you even if he pushes your buttons and is a bit too nosy.

Maybe it was a bad decision inviting him into your bed because you only dream more about what you two could be, the damn cupid character haunting you even in your dreams.

When you wake up the next morning, you’re still wrapped tightly in Seungkwan’s arms, his rhythmic breathing continuing to send shivers throughout your entire body. Carefully, you shift in his hold, coming face to face with the boy you yearn so badly for.

You take him the soft swell of his cheeks, his adorable nose that you just so badly want to poke, and all the way to his plush lips - that if you so slightly leaned in closer, you could peck with your own.

You quietly gasp when Seungkwan’s eyes flutter open, crumbling in his grasp slightly as he groans before covering his face.

“Y/N,” he whines, and you can tell he’s pouting beneath his hand, “don’t look at me like that. Not this early in the morning.”

He’s peeking through his fingers at you now, noticing how your eyebrows raise questionably, but you opt to tease him, “are you being shy, Seungkwan? I didn’t expect Boo would be so shy in the morning.”

You poke at his sides, attempting to tickle him and continuing to tantalize the poor boy who’s wrapped up in your sheets with you, “what would 1-800-Cupid Boo offer as advice to someone so shy?”

Seungkwan irrevocably fights back, pinning your arms on each side of your body, feeling way more intimate than usual because of your proximity and setting.

Shit, there is that silence as you stare at each other again, but you could swear you could hear the pounding of your heart in your ears.

With that, you’re craning your neck up and crashing your lips against his. Fuck it – his lips feel all too perfect against yours, the buds molding together as he reciprocates just as much hunger and desire.

You should have known Seungkwan would be a whiney lover, shivers running down your spine as he moans into your mouth. You can’t stop yourself from bucking your hips up towards him, brushing your pelvis against the hardening bulge contained in his sweatpants as he becomes even whinier when you pull your lips away from his.

“Any advice, Boo? Anything you’d share on the 1-800-Cupid hotline?” You’re teasing him even though he has the upper hand, body steady over yours as he tries to chase your lips.

Seungkwan groans, growing old of your teasing and getting even more turned on by the second. “Shut up, you smartass. Just kiss me again, don’t ruin the moment.”

With that, you’re smiling and allowing him to reattach his lips to yours, granting him entry when he licks and nibbles at your bottom lip. You’re both whining messes, pathetic sounds being exchanged when Seungkwan grinds down after shifting his weight between your legs.

He’s already so needy, even when you two still have layers separating your most intimate parts. His grinds down so desperately against your clothed core, but you can already feel the heat building between you two as he continues to fight your tongue for dominance. You can feel how hard he is; you’re amazed how fast he was turned on just from an attempted tickle fight turned sexual.

You break your lips away from his once again, giving him access to the expanse of your décolletage when one hand keeps a single arm of yours pinned down, whilst the other travels to cup behind your neck, only encouraging you to reveal the delicate skin to him.

You let out a soft gasp when his teeth nip right below your ear, hand gripping the side of your neck even tighter. His lips are so warm and soft on your skin, you find yourself in a dizzy haze when he slowly starts undressing you.

Before you know it, you’re stripped down for him, delicate lips trailing all over your body as he hums and sighs in approval, removing his own clothes as well.

“Kwan, how are you already so hard?” You purr, your small hand wrapping around his brooding cock whilst he remains situated between your legs, making him shiver when your thumb trails over the tip and spreads his pre-cum further down the shaft. “Is this all for me?”

He whimpers as you continue to work at his shaft tantalizingly slow, bending over to now spread kisses from your collarbone down to your perk nipples. He has barely spoken, only humming ‘yes’ in response whilst suckling at your nipples. The feeling is so euphoric how slow and gentle he’s being with you, but you already need more.

He’s surely leaving bruised marks over the expanse of your chest. He seems lost in the valley of your breasts until your hand starts working a little faster, making him buck into your fist and let out a desperate sigh.

Seungkwan’s hands travel down your bare body, eyes scanning every part of your skin slowly and almost as if he is memorizing all the curves and little bumps along the way. You’d feel a little sheepish if it wasn’t for his constant praise.

“So pretty,” he hums, jerking into your touch and almost lost in the pleasure until he lets out a loud cry. “So perfect, but please stop touching me, baby. You’re going to drive me crazy.”

You oblige, but only because his eyes pour into yours, silently begging you to let him last. You’d like to see him beg, but that is for another day.

He’s kneeling between your legs now, fingers experimentally trailing between your thighs until they land at your core. You can see him shiver when you immediately react, especially when it’s very clear how wet you’ve become from your prolonged foreplay.

“So, so pretty,” he moans, replacing his fingers with the tip of his cock, seemingly using all his self-restraint before he asks you his next question. “Do you have a condom, baby?”

You nod desperately, pathetically sighing when he pulls his tip away from your center, “in the top drawer. Please, Kwan, I need you now.”

He’s quick to pull the condom on, rolling the latex onto his shaft before finding his home between your legs yet again. He takes his time, running the bright red tip leisurely between your folds and spreading your wetness. Without warning, he lines back up with your core, sinking right in between your walls as if they were made perfectly for him.

Moaning in unison, Seungkwan’s body weight falls onto yours as he bottoms out, lips passionately finding yours to pull you into another heated kiss. You’re swallowing each other’s noises, breathing and heart rate becoming one as you soak each other in.

You need more, so you start to grind up into him, taking his perfectly sized cock even deeper. Seungkwan’s pulls away, leaving you both gasping as he pulls out just to snap his hips right back, drilling his length even deeper into you.

Everything had been so slow up until now, but Seungkwan’s quick to find his rhythm, hammering his cock between your walls with each harsh roll of his hips. The pleasure has you screaming, hands running up his shoulder blades to find purchase in his bedhead.

“Fuck, Kwan,” you cry out, “you feel so good.”

There’s a whirring sound, a grumbling coming from his chest as he agrees with you. It’s incredibly hot, especially when his voice still sounds whiney as he reciprocates the praise. “You feel so good, baby. You’re so warm and tight.”

You’re lost in each other, the sound of wet skin slapping against each other becoming drowned out by your whimpers and cries. His hands are warm around the nape of your neck, addicted to pulling you into desperate kisses as he continues to be sucked in between your folds, pussy clamping even tighter around his length with each direct hit to your sex.

You don’t want it to end, but you feel the tidal wave beginning to wash over you. Seungkwan can tell by the way your body begins to go limp, one leg hooking around his waist to keep him deep inside of you.

“Finish with me, Kwan. Please.” You mumble against his lips, hands grabbing at his shoulders as you try to keep your orgasm at bay.

“C’mon, baby,” Seungkwan coaxes, another accurate and deep roll of his hips pushing you both over the edge, the tidal wave of both your orgasms hitting you like a tsunami. “That’s it, come with me.”

Just like that, your both writhing and shaking in pleasure, back arching up to press your chest even tighter against his as your bodies and lips continue to mold. You can feel the throb of Seungkwan’s cock inside you, milking both of your orgasms until he reluctantly pulls out, body falling flat besides you as you both let out a sigh of delight.

“Good job, Cupid,” you sigh dreamily, rolling over to drink in his blushed features. “Was this your plan all along?”

Seungkwan lets out a joyous laugh, drawing you into a sweet kiss before ensuring you’re sated, absolutely prioritizing taking the upmost care of you after having you so early in the morning.

Maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t so bad after all. Maybe you really did want those chocolates and flowers in the window display. Maybe all it took was for Boo Seungkwan to meddle in your love life even after college for you to realize your life wasn’t so lackluster in love.

You’ve never felt more loved than when Seungkwan showed up at your door on Valentine’s Day, bouquet and chocolates balanced precariously in one hand, only to reveal what his other hand hid behind his back. A convenience store bag containing ramen and wine.

Life, adulting, and Valentine’s Day didn’t seem all too bitter with your own cupid back in it. Maybe, just maybe, you’d recommend the 1-800-Cupid hotline to those looking for some meddling in their love life.

#svthub #svthub.collab #seventeen smut #svt smut #seungkwan smut #boo seungkwan smut

379 notes · View notes

firein-thesky · 9 months

Text

Act II

|| kaeya alberich x afab!reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort/fluff || wc: 37k || ao3 || masterlist || Act III -> coming soon! ||

When you, a beloved artist and performer of Mondstadt, attract the attention of the Fatui, there is only one person you seek out for help; the infamous Cavalry Captain of the Ordo Favonius, Mondstadt's beloved bastard.

minors and ageless blogs dni, 18+ only

❀ give me a world masterlist ❀

❀ for you are the world (as i am in pieces) - @lorelune ❀

a/n: hello! i am two days late, but here is the second act!! instead of splitting into multiple parts/posts, i just linked the ao3 at the bottom to continue reading! 37k is actually insane of me. i struggled a great deal with this act and it was the source of a lot of frustration but...i am ultimately happy with how it turned out <33 big shout out to my buddies @lorelune who helped me a lot and beta-ed parts, as well as @suguwu who beta-ed and gave me some great feedback on this act, and finally, @acerathia for beta-ing and giving me feedback as well! i am very appreciative of all your help! also please go check out lore's lovely diluc fic linked above as part of this collab!! without further ado, here is act ii! i would love to hear your feedback!! your thoughts!! your predictions! anything! thank you all for reading and i hope you enjoy <3

tags: afab reader (she/her pronouns but is rather gender fluid/binds her chest sometimes and presents both femme and masc), alcohol use, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of stalking/full on stalking from the fatui to the reader, smut, oral (f!receiving), use of "good girl", friends with benefits, somewhat unclear and messy dynamics, mentions of heartbreak/abandonment issues, bodyguard au technically, fake dating au technically, angst, hurt/comfort

SCENE I

Somewhere dark and stone, dripping, and cave-like. Shadows press and shudder and shift. This is an unknown place and sharply different to Mondstadt’s gold and sky. Confined and cold. Each sound should echo softly or loudly, should repeat itself over and over again.

Kaeya moves with his back to us, slipping among the darkness as if he might belong there.

Kaeya has spent nearly an entire day attempting to tail one of the Fatui members he knows is keeping tabs on you. There’s three, he believes, and they rotate in shifts, much like he, Diluc, Jean, and Venti rotate being near you.

For the first time in a long time, he hasn’t spent his entire day with you. Nor the previous. Venti stayed with you in your own home and now you’re with Jean.

He hates to admit it, but he’s become rather accustomed to watching over you.

But he needs answers for you, so he’s been running all over the city, searching for their reasoning.

This is the closest he’s gotten to a new discovery; this ruin beneath the earth, ducking and weaving through an old, stone crypt of some sort.

He realizes rather quickly it must be some secret meeting place for the Fatui in the city, especially those dealing with the Abyss Order.

The narrow hall opens up into a larger space where an old desk, piled with papers and maps sits under lantern light. Shadows grow large and spindly on the floor. On the stone walls are photos and torn notebook paper, pinned and plastered together, a collage of secrets.

Kaeya peers carefully from his hiding spot to get a better look.

He wants to look at that desk, all the information atop it. He’s certain there must be something there of use, even a greater hint. But he needs this member to leave.

Kaeya picks up a stone, smooth and cool to the touch. He has to play this carefully.

There’s an adjacent hallway across this room. It leads to further darkness. And with the Fatui member’s back turned to him, facing the desk, if he can aim well enough, he’ll be able to–

Kaeya throws the stone and watches it sail through the air, finding it’s mark as it clatters into the bend of the wall down the hallway. He flattens himself to his own wall, waiting and listening.

“Who's there?” The Fatui member calls and Kaeya holds his breath.

“Hello?” Again, before he hears their footsteps stride towards the hallway Kaeya had thrown the stone in and away from him.

He waits as they retreat, deeper and deeper, echoing softly.

He knows he won’t have much time now.

As silently and quickly as possible, he rushes to the desk. His eye flies over all of the papers and maps and scribbling notes.

Your name jumps out to him. He skims.

Vision: Pyro

Strength: Low

Intelligence: High

-Not a fighter

-Use discretion; known and beloved by Mondstadt and other nations.

Kaeya searches harder, shuffling through the papers a little.

There’s a ledger with all the places you’d gone, every single day. There are notes about where best to kidnap you and Kaeya’s stomach sours as he reads words like use force. And torture if necessary.

But what is it they think you know? What would they need to torture out of you?

He moves another piece of paper, only to catch sight of something that makes his heart stop.

Your diary.

There’s no mistaking it. He’d know it anywhere now.

How do they have this? It should’ve been in his home or safe with you.

Horror sweeps through him–they don’t–they couldn’t have taken you, could they?

You’re with Jean, he tries to rationalize. Had you hidden your diary again? Had they found it?

If you hid it, had you snuck away from Venti or Jean in the last day or so? His mind spins sharply.

Footsteps echo.

He’s out of time.

He disappears down his own hallway, heart ricketing in his chest wildly. If they had you, would you be here? Should he search? Is he being unreasonable?

He’ll go to Jean first.

Use force.

You’ll be with Jean. And if you’re not, Jean will organize a rescue party. He’s found their hideout.

Torture if necessary.

Kaeya breaks the surface of the world with a new urgency. The day is melting into evening and the light nearly blinds him a moment as he stumbles out. He doesn’t have time, he breaks into a sprint. His mind flashes hotly, imagines he wish he could never conjure. Images of you tied up, bloody, beaten–

He runs towards the city gates fast and hard.

Strength: Low

He shouldn’t have pawned you off on others–he should’ve stayed beside you. This whole time. He should’ve had Diluc look for the Fatui, he shouldn’t have bid you goodbye yesterday. He should’ve checked in with you.

His ribs ache, his legs burn. He doesn’t stop.

What was he thinking? You’re practically a sitting duck. He knows this.

Not a fighter.

You wouldn’t stand a chance against them. What if Jean is already searching for him because you’ve been taken? He imagines bursting into the city to find her or Venti or Diluc, with some pale look on their face.

The knights on watch must know something is wrong as he runs beneath the gates–they call after him, but don’t stop him.

“Where’s Jean?” He barks to the one trying to catch up to him.

“Headquarters, I think!”

Kaeya veers sharply for Headquarters.

He prays he’ll burst through the door and find you there, with Jean. You’ll be pestering her as the sun sets, chirping and flitting around her office while she tries to get paperwork done. You’ll be there, he tries to tell himself, you will be. They must’ve just nicked your diary.

He throws open the door to Headquarters, rounds the corner and bursts into Jean’s office. Jean is standing on the opposite side of her desk, back facing Kaeya and–

You’re nowhere to be found.

His stomach drops.

“Jean,” he says her name sharply, a note of desperation. “Where is she?”

Jean turns, startled by his appearance, by his urgency, but–

“I left her with Venti. They said they were going to Angel’s Share to perform some songs.” Jean steps towards him, “why? What’s wrong?”

“They have her diary.” Kaeya gets out, rushing out the door of her office.

“Kaeya!” She barks after him, but he’s already pushing his way out of Headquarters. He won’t rest, not until he sees you, until you’re right in front of him. “What are you–where was her diary?”

“I don’t know,” Kaeya snaps, taking stairs two at a time, “I thought it was at my apartment but she’s always hiding it and–” He breaks into another run, heading towards the tavern, “when did you leave her with Venti?”

“I don’t know,” Jean gets out, keeping pace with him, “a few hours ago, maybe? I had a lot to do–”

Kaeya curses under his breath.

“I still don’t know what they want with her but–their notes were about using force. Or–” he can’t get the word out. “They think she knows something.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know.” Kaeya bites out.

He rounds the corner to Angel’s Share sharply and Jean takes it with him.

“I’m sure she’ll be here with Venti.” Jean gets out, attempting to be calm with him. She’s attempting to be a leader.

Kaeya throws open the door, gaze flying across the room and–

He doesn’t see you.

His blood runs cold.

For once, he wishes it was Diluc at the bar, but it’s Charles.

“Has Venti been here?” And then he asks for you, too, says your name with a shot voice.

Charles shakes his head, “haven’t seen either of them at all today. They were supposed to play music tonight, I think–”

Kaeya doesn’t let him finish. He rushes out.

He has half a mind to start shouting like a lunatic for you, all over the city, wandering like a mad man with your name a cry on his lips.

“Maybe they went to her house before–” Jean tries to rationalize, but he can tell she is beginning to fret, too.

Kaeya is already ahead of her, rushing towards your home on the hill in the city. He can’t help his pace, the run he breaks into again. He tries to think of you throwing open the door, laughing at his worry. Where else would you be? He wants to hear you say.

But when he pounds on the door, there is no answer. Not a peep. Your little space is quiet.

“Do you have a key?” Jean asks, but Kaeya doesn’t have the time.

He takes a step back only to kick in the door easily, letting it fly open on its hinges.

(He promises he’ll get you a new door, a better one, one that isn’t so flimsy–that could be so easily broken into. He thinks of you asleep here, with a door like that, and his worry grows insurmountably.)

He shouts your name as he enters.

No answer.

He storms the place. Your bedroom, your bathroom, all familiar and all so empty.

“Venti!” Jean calls, and then your own name, too, as she searches.

Nothing.

“You know how they are,” Jean tries to rationalize, “they’re always getting up to trouble. They could be anywhere.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Kaeya growls, rushing past her and back out the door. He’s beginning to panic. He can feel the tendrils of it creep up his chest, wrapping like vines around his poor throat. His head is growing foggy, warped with his fear. All he can see is you being dragged away.

Use force.

His mind feels hot, too sharp.

Torture if necessary.

“Kaeya,” Jean barks his name, rushing to catch up to him.

Her voice is a balm, he wants–she should–

“I’ll try to get ahold of Diluc and send word out to search the city for her.” Jean says and her voice is filled with authority now, level-headed and steady, “where else would she be?”

“I’m going to my apartment.” Kaeya says, mind narrowing, “in case she’s–I don’t know–”

“Go,” Jean agrees, a command, “and if she’s not there, keep searching–you know her hiding spots now.”

Kaeya nods dazedly.

Jean grabs him roughly, on the arm, jerking him to face her. One hand coming down on his shoulder.

“We’ll find her.” She promises and she dips her head a little to force him to meet her eyes. They’re all stone and determination. The eyes of a leader. “Do you hear me, Captain?”

Kaeya nods, more assuredly now, “yes,” he agrees, finding his voice, her eyes.

She shoves him a little, a push to go, “I’ll reconvene with you shortly. Stay sharp.”

Kaeya doesn’t need another moment; he picks his eyes up to catch the city skyline of Mondstadt, of his apartment in the distance. He breaks into a sprint. He tries to focus only on his breath, on the way his feet carry him swiftly, weaving in and around the city.

He tries to force away what he’d seen.

He bounds for his home, feels his heart and fear ratchet up inside of himself. He’s imagining his home empty.

He’s imagining you gone.

He’s imagining the door shut tight and locked, how he’d left it, and you’re nowhere to be found. A cold space. An empty space.

He takes the stairs two at a time, he tries the door and it–it’s locked still.

He doesn’t pray. He’s not a religious man. And that stupid Archon–

Is sitting perched on his kitchen counter, overlooking the living room.

“Ssh,” Venti hisses, finger to his lips, as he points to his couch. The one Kaeya has slept on nearly every night since this whole ordeal started. The one you are currently occupying, curled up beneath the blanket he usually uses, sleeping soundly.

Or, you were.

You blink awake, slow, confused.

Kaeya rushes to your side.

He kneels.

The door is left ajar.

“You’re here,” he gets out, winded, rough.

“Kaeya?” Your voice is so small and confused.

Without thinking, he brushes a strand of hair from your face as gently as he can, hands shaking. He’s still panting, chest still heaving. But–

“I’m here.” He says then, astonished, relieved.

He wants to pull you off the couch and into his arms. He wants to hold you. He wants to collapse on top of you.

He falls back onto his bottom, breathing hard, all his fear leaking out of him swiftly. “Oh, you’re here.” He says again, voice breaking, as if to assure himself.

You sit up, eyes pricking with concern, “what’s wrong?” you murmur, “where else would I be?”

Kaeya can’t even speak yet, but he laughs, delirious, out of breath.

“No where.” He says, “I thought–you were–”

“She was trying to nap,” Venti finally speaks up and his eyes are far too keen. “Before our performance tonight.”

Kaeya looks at him. Venti looks back.

The door is open.

He heaves out a rough breath. He hangs his head between his shoulders. He tries to calm himself.

“I need to tell Jean to call off–” he laughs, “oh, Diluc is going to lose his mind.”

“Call off what?” You ask.

“Your search party.” Kaeya finally can get out. Your face brightens to shock.

“My search party? Kaeya–”

“Venti, why don’t you find Jean and tell her where you’ve been? Before the whole city turns upside down looking for her.” Kaeya then says. He won’t look at him but he can feel Venti’s eyes on him.

But then Venti laughs, and chirps, “aye, Captain!”

And he flits out of Kaeya’s home.

Venti shuts the door behind him and seals you away with him. Kaeya exhales roughly again, elbows resting on his knees.

“Are you okay?” You ask for a second time, so sweetly. So sincerely. You lean towards him like you want to touch him.

And he wants to say, I was scared. He wants to say, I was terrified of losing you. I could’ve torn the whole city apart looking for you. He wants to say, I’m so relieved to see you. Hold me. Let me hold you.

Instead, all he says is, “they had your diary. And I thought–”

The door is shut tightly.

“Oh,” you breathe, “I left it at home, the last time we–”

“They must’ve broken in.” He agrees softly. And then he looks rather sheepish.

“What?” You ask, as if you know.

“I broke in. I owe you a new door.”

“Kaeya!” You scold, “why did you–why were you so–?!”

“Jean and I thought you were kidnapped!” Kaeya defends himself.

“Kaeya–”

“We were searching for you. Since you weren’t in any of the places you were supposed to be.” He begins to scold.

“Kaeya,”

“Didn’t I leave you with Jean? You should’ve stayed with her.”

You suddenly launch forward, arms wrapping around his neck, falling from the couch and onto his body. His breath is almost knocked out of his lungs for the millionth time today because of you and surprise colors his face. Raises his brows.

You hug him tight, face pressing to the crook of his neck, a bundle in his lap.

“I’m okay,” you murmur, “I’m right here.”

His arms, which had come up in surprise, finally settle over you. They wrap all the way around your shoulders, your middle, pull you closer, and he’s sure his heart is such a mess in his chest. He’s sure it sounds like a disaster.

But you press harder into him, fingers digging into his muscles.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you say, and then your voice tilts upwards playfully, “didn’t think you’d really send the cavalry just because–”

He pinches your side.

“I had reason to believe–!”

You start to laugh, into his throat. You shift to pull away and he wants to keep you there, he wants to hold fast to you and not let go. He wants to cling to you. But he lets you move away to look at his face once more.

You look at him in a way that just makes him feel naked. He wants to hide. He wants to say something clever.

“Thank you,” you suddenly say.

“For what?” Kaeya laughs, “causing a ruckus? Waking you from your nap?”

“For coming for me.” You cut him off. “I feel safe with you and this just proves that–”

Kaeya slackens a little, perhaps surprised or unsure or–you always leave him wobbly and uncertain. You always disarm him so swiftly, so viciously.

“Of course I’d come for you.” Kaeya says and he does mean it. He softens it’s truth with, “it’s my duty.”

But that night, you don’t ask him to sit beside you as you fall asleep–he does so anyway. You don’t say a word, except to ask him for another bedtime story playfully, except to hear him speak, as you always do when he stays with you.

You didn’t ask but he needed to.

It’s not his duty, but he wanted to.

He can’t imagine not watching you drift off to sleep tonight, of all nights, when he thought he’d lost you.

He watches you sleep soundly in his bed, back rising and falling as you curl around one of his pillows, cheek endearingly squished against it. He doesn’t sleep.

The door is locked tight.

And even though it's not his duty, he watches over you, anyway.

***

SCENE II

On the docks of Cider Lake in the early afternoon sun. Venti is perched beside you, plucking lazily at a lyre. Your feet dangle off the dock, swinging like a child. The sky is endlessly blue. Clouds are like sleeping rabbits in the sky. The wind kisses you.

“I feel their eyes most when I’m with you.” You say suddenly, glancing at your companion out of the corner of your eyes.

A note strums from Venti’s fingers. He hums lightly.

“Not sure what the Fatui would want with a measly bard.” Venti shrugs, “maybe they think I’m the weakest of your guards.”

“Maybe,” you say, but you don’t believe that. You don’t believe it because–well, because you noticed them following him first. At first, you weren’t quite sure and you had mentioned it to Venti, but he’d shrugged you off.

Breezy as ever. He’d pretend there was nothing to worry about.

You turn towards him and look at him before you murmur, low enough that any ears listening would only catch the sound of the gently lapping water, “why were the Fatui following you?”

“I believe I’m supposed to ask that of you,” Venti replies with a smile but you can tell, there’s a chipping like a porcelain teacup losing a piece of its lip.

“I wasn’t sure at first,” you tell him softly, eyes glancing out over the calm lake, “but then I caught them intercepting letters and messages of yours. I caught them in the belltower and I knew.”

The belltower in the cathedral was a place Venti had shown you early in your return to Mondstadt. He’d told you it’d been a place that he came to play music, to look out at the world below. A secret place for him, now for you; a gift, he’d said. Places are a gift to give the people you love and secrets are, too.

Then you’d caught a Fatui member snooping through the hidden items Venti had left there; music sheets, maps the two of you had crudely drawn, and old clues to scavenger hunts long past.

The two of you had always liked sending the other all over Mondstadt; it’s why you hide your diary. He hides new songs he wants you to learn. You’d leave clues, games to play, puzzles to solve for each other.

Venti plucks out a few, odd notes on his lyre. Goosebumps erupt over your skin.

“You don’t think I have dealings with them, do you?” Venti asks queerly. There’s a funny sound to his voice.

You shake your head quickly, “Archons, no.” And then you tilt your head, “but I did what I do best.”

A wrong note. It rings discordant in the air.

Venti looks at you.

“You didn’t.” He almost begs, but he knows.

“Of course I did.” You respond and Venti looks genuinely distraught. So you add, “nothing terrible–but I wrote you false letters. I led them on a goose chase a little, like I always do when the Fatui gets too close or comfortable in Mondstadt.”

Venti shakes his head, “you shouldn’t have meddled here.”

“They’re looking for something of yours, aren’t they?” You ask slowly.

Venti, for once, is quiet. The wind catches on your clothes in a burst. It’s confirmation enough.

“So I sent them all over Mondstadt with puzzles and clues and fake letters.” You said, “and really, I thought it was harmless but–”

“Did you tell this to Kaeya?” Venti asks.

“Not specifically this. I always toy with the Fatui when I can, though, he knows that.”

Venti shakes his head slightly, fingers digging into the wood of his instrument, “and with all the hiding places and riddles between us, I’m sure they–” Venti stands abruptly, “I need to speak to Kaeya.”

You stand with him suddenly, “why? What for?”

Venti frowns at you and it’s an expression you hardly ever see him wear.

So you press tenderly, “what are they looking for, Venti?”

“You’re such trouble,” Venti replies and his voice catches with emotion; he doesn’t mean it meanly, in fact it’s–well, it’s fond. Mournful, almost. The wind rushes past the two of you, stronger now. Water laps at the docks.

“Give me a clue.” You try to charm him but it sounds more like a plea. “Like always. I’ll figure it out and you won’t ever have to say it outloud, if you’re that scared.”

Your heart feels like a brewing storm in your chest. Venti has never hidden things so openly from you. It frightens you.

But Venti shakes his head for once, small and soft. “Not this time, my friend.”

“Venti–”

He suddenly looks away, down towards the other side of the dock, where the cobblestone of the street meets the wood. Kaeya is standing there, waiting to relieve Venti and walk with you to Springvale for rehearsal. The gold of his coat glints in the afternoon sun. He looks like a knight.

He waits for you.

“You have rehearsal,” Venti says, and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “go.”

“Please, will you tell me?” You ask again. You swallow hard around sudden tears; stupid and silly but–aching. You can’t name why you feel like crying, only that you can tell something far larger is on the horizon.

It hangs like a storm.

You can feel its pressure, now more than ever.

Tell me, you want to beg him, you want to sing, you want to scream. Let me help you, let me in.

Venti looks at you with love and affection and sadness. He looks at you with a heaviness you can’t name, but can taste. It’s ancient. It’s otherworldly. You want to hold him. You want to hide him from the world.

“Not yet,” he replies.

“Why not?” Your voice breaks as easily and fragile as a bird’s wing.

Venti smiles sadly, “because if you knew, you’d put yourself in even more danger than you already have for me.”

You open your mouth, but he continues;

“And this isn’t your battle.” He turns away, eyes glassy, but waves at Kaeya, as if nothing is wrong. He smiles at you, watery and fond.

“Besides, you’ve never been much of a fighter in the first place.”

***

SCENE III

In the living room of Kaeya’s apartment. Soft, evening blue light through the windows. Hazy, dark shadows. You’re curled up on the couch, legs tucked up underneath you, with a cup of tea held in your palms. You’re ready for bed. Kaeya enters from his office with a stack of letters and papers; what the audience can see of his face is that he’s somber for once. He casts the greater shadow.

“Will you tell me again why you thought it was a good idea to toy with the Fatui?” Kaeya asks and in his hand, he has only some of the letters and maps and sheet music that you’d been leaving for Venti.

Or, the Fatui. Since you knew they were rifling through Venti’s things.

“I always toy with them.” You reply simply, taking a slow, burning sip of tea. It’s chamomile and rose. A hint of cinnamon. Kaeya prepared it for you before disappearing to do some work in his office. You swallow. “And I never said it was a good idea.”

“Then why do it?”

“Why are they following Venti? What are they looking for?”

Kaeya lets out a sharp breath, perhaps growing impatient. “I don’t know. Right now, I need to know why they think they need you to find it, though.”

“Well, I made it seem like I had whatever they’re looking for.”

You watch Kaeya freeze for a moment and if you weren’t so intuitive and just a little wittier, you’d make some sort of joke about cryo and freezing in place.

“Why?” He demands suddenly.

“I wanted to get them off Venti’s back.” You say, “this is what I do when the Fatui get too close to the people I know. This is what I do when the Fatui think they can stick their hands in Mondstadt. Someone has to teach them a lesson.” You take another little sip of your tea, and then add, “and I don’t have a sword–my weapon is my pen. My voice. My wit.”

Kaeya shakes his head, “you don’t even know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

You gesture smoothly, “then enlighten me.”

“This is bigger than you, do you understand that?” Kaeya then says and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him quite so stern.

His face is shadowed. It’s growing darker.

“Sure,” you say easily, “that’s why I had to intervene.”

“I don’t think you actually understand.” Kaeya says and his voice has grown more serious, imperative, a little lower.

“I’m not an idiot,” you snip, “clearly! Since I’ve managed to fool the Fatui and send them running all over Mondstadt.” You can feel your hackles rise a little, heat swimming in your chest, up your neck. “And most importantly, away from Venti–since he’s got some huge secret that no one will tell me!”

Kaeya moves suddenly to sit on the coffee table in front of the sofa you’re on. Your knees nearly brush. He splays out your letters and music sheets and maps. “Why didn’t you come to me before doing all of this? Before involving yourself?”

“Because I always mess with the Fatui!” Your voice raises and you finally move to set the tea cup beside him on the coffee table. “I didn’t think it was any different than any of the other times!”

“The Fatui aren’t just–” Kaeya gestures, papers crinkling beneath his grip that has grown tighter with his own frustration. “–some band of half-wit politicians or merchants for you to toy with! They’re dangerous.”

This quiets you for a moment. And then, “so? A lot of things are dangerou–”

“So?” Kaeya repeats, “so?! You’re not even–” he laughs, but the sound is scraping and hollow, off-kilter. It’s disbelief, almost a scoff, “you’re not even a fighter. You’re not a Knight or a warrior. You’re not even an adventurer of some kind.”

Silence stretches between the two of you.

“Can you ever trust my own judgment and intuition? I have made it this far–”

“But you’re reckless.” Kaeya says, “specifically, you’re reckless with yourself. You know the Fatui are dangerous–it’s why you’re worried about Venti, right? It’s why you intervened.” Kaeya says and then his voice gentles, “so why don’t you have the same concern for yourself?”

You feel your jaw lock. It ticks.

You look away from him defiantly, out towards one of the windows, blue with the evergrowing night sky.

It strikes a strange note inside of you. You have concern for yourself, you want to say, you came to him, didn’t you? Eventually.

But it doesn’t negate what you did, which was reckless. He’s right; you could’ve turned to him immediately, you could’ve gone to Diluc or Jean or him. But instead, you tried to distract the Fatui; you tried to dance and sing and entice them onto the path you’re on, instead of the one Venti is on.

You gave them a performance. And now, with all their eyes set on you, like the hungry, vying eyes of an audience, a predator, you are in danger.

“This isn’t a game anymore. This isn’t funny or—or breezy. You’ve gotten yourself into real danger, do you understand?” Kaeya then says and you can tell he’s trying to get you to look at him again.

“I have you and Jean and Diluc to—“

“But your recklessness got us all here. You rush head first into—into everything, without regard for yourself.” Kaeya continues. “You’re an open book. You wear your heart on your sleeve—it’s like you have no self preservation whatsoever.”

You sit in silence. You cross your arms over your chest and you feel a hard, little ache in the pit of your throat.

He’s chipping away at something inside of you, something already too tender to take the beating.

“It’s not a bad thing to be open.” You say and your voice is tight, thicker than it should be.

“No,” he agrees, “but you have no regard for yourself and all of it for everyone else.”

Tears prick your eyes, much to your dismay.

You know the reason. You can feel it, somewhere in the back of your mouth, down where your throat is tight.

You can’t lose Venti.

Venti could lose you, you’ve decided. The world could lose you. But you are so terrified of loss and really–you must’ve been easy to leave if–

If it could be done so effortlessly.

(You think of yourself as a child and your father setting you down for the last time. You think of yourself at an altar, forever waiting, the way you waited for your father your whole life.)

Venti can lose you.

But you can’t lose Venti.

You hope that maybe if you give enough of yourself to the world, it will need you bad enough to never lose. You think one day, it’ll fill the empty, aching wound inside of you that has been just left to dry out. Crack and splinter.

Sometimes, you think if you scare someone bad enough, they’ll look at you and say they can’t lose you. You think maybe if you scare yourself bad enough, you’ll finally look at yourself and say I can’t lose you.

“Don’t cry,” Kaeya hushes softly and you wipe quickly at the tear that has freed itself to slip down the slope of your cheek.

It makes you want to cry harder, for some reason, for him to be so tender now.

He sets the papers down beside you on the couch finally. He reaches out and touches your knee, broad palm surprisingly warm, as he rubs a gentle pass with his thumb.

“Why are you crying?” Kaeya then asks, coaxing, gentle.

You sniff hard.

You dig a little, you search for the answer. Is it because you’re careless with yourself? Is it because you’re scared now? Is it because he pointed it out at all—that he noticed enough, saw through you enough, to finally say it?

Is it because—

“I worry about you.” He says when you don’t answer him.

—you’re worth fretting over?

You shake your head a little, perhaps in an attempt to disagree with him, perhaps in an attempt to reassure him. But nothing comes out except another few tears.

You try to keep the sob back, the noise trapped with the reason in the back of your throat. You fear what will come out.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to whisper and when you finally turn to face him, he’s right there, and for a moment, you think he might move further to hold you. You think you might just slide into his arms.

You hold your breath.

You think he holds his, too.

“I don’t need an apology.” Kaeya finally murmurs and he doesn’t fold you into his arms, but he turns up his hand on your knee carefully. His palm, an offering. “I just need you to be more careful.”

Slowly, you slide your hand into his.

You’ve held his hand plenty now, know the rough scrape of his calluses against your own, but it has never quite felt like this.

Real. Weighted.

He folds his fingers between yours gently. Your hands lock together, woven, knuckle over knuckle. Palm to palm.

You’re both watching your hands, enamored, maybe terrified.

You cling to him in a way you haven’t clung to someone in a long, long time.

You think you’ve tried to hold onto everything like this; with too much force, gripped in your rebellious fist. You think everything you’ve ever held must’ve been crumpled and ruined from your grasp, you think everything must have the indents of your fingers permanently etched there.

You want to squeeze, you want to bear down on his hands like a dog who finally caught a bird.

“Can you promise me that?” Kaeya prompts gently when he doesn’t receive a response from you.

You glance up at his searching face, the way he’s watching you carefully, scouring to see any flicker of emotion.

You nod a little, jerky, unsure.

“Will you say it for me?” He murmurs and dips his head a little to keep your straying gaze.

You swallow hard around the lump in your throat, tight and hard.

You feel your eyes fill with tears again.

But still, you manage to croak, “I’ll try to be more careful.”

You can tell the response displeases him somewhat; you can tell he wants more. But anything more right now, may feel like a lie.

And you’re no good at that.

“Okay,” Kaeya agrees, “thank you.” And then he adds with a gentle lilt, “I’m sorry for making you cry.”

You laugh a little through your tears, “it’s okay–” you mumble, letting your eyes fall back to your intertwined hands. “I probably needed to hear it.”

His thumb makes a slow, comforting pass over the back of your hand.

For a moment, the space fills with silence.

You watch the careful sweep of his thumb, you watch the flex of his hand, the veins against his wrist. You can feel the room fill with something more, a growing of a feeling, stretching amongst your ribs. Perhaps amongst his. You think there is something blooming inside of him, something he’s terrified of, something you’ll always long for.

(If you could feel his pulse in his wrist, it would be jumping, picking up in a fierce little tempo.)

He’s tenser now, you realize. His breath is caught somewhere in his chest, like he might speak again.

You wait for him.

He opens his mouth.

But then after a moment, he closes it.

You pick your head up to examine his face, to try and discern what it is he wants to say now.

And mostly, it’s a mask of causality.

(His trembling heart is the only thing that gives him away now.)

Maybe, the depth of his eye, or maybe it’s only a trick of the light.

You want to say, what is it? Or prompt him for more. You want him to speak what is so clearly on the very tip of his tongue.

Tell me, you want to say, tell me what seems to scare you so badly.

“I–” he starts. He stops.

And then neither of you speak and the tension stretches and something inside you grows. You cling to him harder without realizing it, as if anticipating the way he’ll pull away. You don’t want him to go. You can feel it, your heart unfurling for him, you can feel the way he holds you, too.

In the same way that you hold him.

You hope he leaves indents in your skin. You hope he never lets go.

“Yes?” You prompt gently.

But then he clears his throat and glances away.

The spell is broken and he forces his hands to loosen from his own hold on you. He forces himself to recede and to calm his heart. You watch as he mentally pulls away from you. You force yourself not to cling harder to him, to catch his hand and hold it close to yourself, to pull him closer to you.

He says, “Mondstadt cares very deeply for you–and you for Mondstadt. I only wish–” he draws in a small breath, “that you’d afford yourself the same care.”

You wonder what he was going to say instead. You know this is not his original thought, but the secondary, more distant one. You almost want to ask him, you want to needle and beg, but you know Kaeya well now.

You know he doesn’t say anything he hasn’t carefully thought about or that he doesn’t want you to hear.

Still, it manages to make you soften, to make tears press again behind your eyes.

You turn to tuck your face into your shoulder, like it may stop him from seeing you cry. You squeeze his hand like a lifeline.

“Oh, look what I’ve done now.” He says and his voice is light–he’s teasing you gently, holding you tighter again as you laugh now and sniffle, fingers still digging deep into his hand.

“I’m sorry–” you mumble, “Am I hurting you?”

You loosen your grip on his hand.

“I’ve been through far worse,” he soothes, running his thumb back over the dips and plains of your hand.

You try to keep yourself from bursting into heavier, harder tears. You can’t even quite name why; your care for him, or his for you. The fact that he won’t name it, or because you’re scared he’ll leave if you do.

You’re nearly trembling with it; you’re afraid he’ll say one more word, one more phrase and you’ll simply fall to pieces.

You don’t know what it is about care; but when someone is gentle with you, it makes you feel as if they’ve torn you to shreds. It turns you inside out. It turns you into a child again, desperately seeking it out. It feels foolish now sometimes, over dramatic.

But Kaeya holds your hand and you take deep, shuddering breaths until you don’t feel as if you’re going to bawl your eyes out anymore.

You don’t want to stop clinging to his hand, though.

“I should get to bed,” you finally say, if only for him, if only to give him an out because it’s easier than if he finds it himself. You’re too fragile for him to pull away first tonight.

So you slip from his grasp and stand. Your legs feel a little wobbly, unsure of yourself. He looks up at you, from beneath the fan of his dark lashes. You swallow hard, around the tears, around whatever it is he makes you feel.

You can still feel the pressure in your hand, the way his fingers feel against yours.

Again, he looks as if he wants to say something.

You wait, expectant.

And again, he lets it fall.

Instead, he says, “yes–it's another early morning. I’ll let you sleep.”

He stands now, too, collecting the papers, gathering them into his hands carefully. All of your wit and love and craft. All of your recklessness in the palm of his hand.

“I’m going to stay up a little longer,” he says then, “if you need anything.”

Now it's your turn to look up at him.

And there must be something too raw, too sincere in your eyes, because he can’t look for long.

“Kaeya,” you want to draw his gaze back to yours, but he doesn't quite reach your eyes. Still, you need to say, “thank you.”

“For scolding you?” He asks, light, too light. He tries to create distance. Coldness.

“For caring about me.”

He swallows. He doesn’t confirm or deny it. But he looks guilty, a man held back, everything carefully in place. Not a word misspoken, not a look out of place. Sometimes, you have the urge to destroy that veneer. Sometimes, you want to know what he looks like without all his thoughtfully placed appearances.

You wonder if you will ever see him like that. You wonder if he will ever tell you more; if he will ever let you in.

You think maybe you will stay like this forever, close to him, but not too close.

With care, but without it spoken. Always in the blue dark and never in the dawn.

He clears his throat, “it’s my job to look out for you.”

Your heart falls a little, sharp, like a plummeting note, a tight draw of the strings of a discordant chord. You swallow around the lump in your throat.

“Yes,” you agree distantly, nodding your head, “I suppose it is.”

“I’ll be in the office.” He says because he must slip away from you now. You think when he gets too close, he grows scared of being burned.

He closes the door behind him.

You watch it for a moment, steady.

You wonder if it’ll stay like this forever; always on the other side of the door.

When you go to sleep that night, you leave the bedroom door ajar, as if to prove something.

But in the morning, you find it shut tight.

At rehearsal, you’re somewhere else, off in your mind. Though you say your lines, you feel as if you miss them, like they’re coming out automatically, half-hearted.

And the only ones that rings true, that resonates throughout the stage is one you’d previously thrown away;

“Hold on tight–don’t let go.”

This time, your voice cracks with it, breaks over the don’t.

That night, Kaeya presents you with a bouquet of flowers; a show in front of the world.

And when he brushes his knuckles against yours, you eagerly slip your hand into his as you walk home.

You don’t even care that it’s for the world and no longer for you.

You are, if nothing else, a good actor (or of foolish heart);

So you pretend it’s real, with the flowers he gave you nestled into the crook of your elbow, and his hand curled around yours. You pretend that you are walking home with your love, and the sun is setting, and you are filled to the brim.

You laugh as if that’s the case. You lean into him as if that’s the case.

You knock into him as you walk, desperate to be close, to feel his side against yours. You are desperate to have more of him; all his attention, all his affection.

To not feel like a world away–or like there’s a door between you, one that you don’t know if he’ll ever open or not.

***

PRELUDE TO SCENE IV

Springvale in the afternoon, the sun warm and bright; it makes everything sparkle, almost radiant. The grass seems lush and full, the lake is shimmering.

Klee eats cut fruit happily beside you at a picnic table. You steal a piece or two from time to time. Kaeya sits across from you and Klee, his back to the audience.

“Are you and Kaeya boyfriend and girlfriend?” Klee suddenly asks around a burst of valberries.

Despite everything, you feel your heart tick up in a strange, sharp tempo.

Your eyes fly to Kaeya, who's already looking at you.

You share a silent conversation with each other and a series of increasingly dramatic expressions;

What should we tell her?

The truth?

What? No!

Then you tell her–

“Yes,” Kaeya finally says, “we are boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Klee picks her head up, perhaps surprised at his answer. “You’re dating?!” She asks, louder now and you can’t help but laugh.

“Yes,” Kaeya lies, perhaps for any eavesdroppers, “we’re dating, Klee.”

She looks between the two of you.

“Miss Jean said you’re in love with each other.” Klee says casually and that makes both of you freeze momentarily.

You feel heat rush into the high points of your face. Your mind whirls, spins into overthinking. Why would Jean say this? To keep your covers? A kinder way to say it to a child?

For a moment, you fear Jean knows a part of your heart that you fully haven’t gotten to know yet yourself.

You fear there is some truth to it.

(Perhaps love is too strong of a word but—)

You adore Kaeya.

You have your whole life, you think, from when you were young and chasing after them with childlike, outstretched hands, to adulthood, where you have always held respect for him and now—

Something more, perhaps, after all your time with him.

How could you not? What chance did you have against him, anyways?

(You hope he doesn’t dare read your diary again.

You suddenly worry that Jean has instead.)

You’re almost fearful to catch Kaeya’s gaze, you swallow hard, but force yourself to. And when you do, you realize he’s–

Amused. Near laughing.

That absolute bas—

You kick him underneath the table and he yelps a little. You hide your snicker behind a hand against your mouth.

“We care about each other very much.” You tell Klee, sobering.

“Are you gonna get married?” She asks then, just as casually, around another piece of fruit.

Kaeya makes a noise of surprise, “married?” He asks Klee, “where are these questions coming from?”

“I thought if you’re boyfriend and girlfriend, then you get married.” Klee responds.

“Sometimes,” you agree, nudging the bowl of fruit closer to her little hands so that she can reach the last few pieces better. “But right now we’re just boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Klee hums around her berry.

And then she looks up at you, “do you guys kiss?”

The word kiss is punctuated with disgust, almost sick curiosity; as if she might not be able to believe it.

It makes you choke, then stutter into a laugh. Kaeya laughs as well, full and surprised.

“People who are dating do tend to kiss, Klee, so yes.” He says, amused with her. He catches your eye across the table. You swallow hard with the way he gazes at you, infinitely pleased and laid back, deeply amused. By you or Klee, you’re not sure. Still, you can’t help the smile that touches your lips, perhaps just as entertained, perhaps a little rueful.

“Gross,” she declares. And then she looks at Kaeya, “do you think she’s pretty?”

You look at Kaeya expectantly, propping your chin in your hands, and sing, “yes, Kaeya, do you think I’m pretty?”

He smirks, leaning back in his seat a little, and a fissure of heat rips through you. You bat your lashes for him.

“I think you’re beautiful, darling.” Kaeya croons, sweet as ever, and enough to make you damn near melt.

You can feel heat in your face, despite it all. You feel like a teenager. You feel like a girl with a crush, a boy with his love in front of him, and not a clue what to do. Bumbling and suddenly young, graceless.

A pang hits you squarely in the chest; you wish this was real. You wish he was being honest.

Klee squeals in embarrassment or surprise. “You’re going to get cooties!” She tells you.

You use her as a distraction, leaning down a little to conspire with her, “Kaeya does have cooties.” You agree in a faux-whisper. “But I have the antidote.”

“You do?” Klee asks, “what is it?”

“Its a secret recipe,” you begin, putting on a good show of trying to come up with the ingredients, “but it certainly starts with the essence of butterflies.” You glance over at the field behind you, which you know is teeming with butterflies.

You used to chase them here in your youth until the sun set and the fireflies sparked to life in the evening dark. And then you chased their soft, blinking lights until the other kids were called home. And it was just you and the rolling fields and endless night skies and bumbling bugs. You’d try to carry one home with you so you wouldn’t feel so lonely.

Klee follows your gaze and watches as one of the butterflies flits and flutters.

“Can I ask for your help, little Spark Knight? Will you carefully catch me a butterfly? Don’t hurt it, though, we need it alive for the antidote.”

Immediately, she is perking up, jumping up from her seat.

“You can count on me!”

She bounds off into the field of swaying wildflowers.

You turn back to Kaeya.

His eye is soft, perhaps fond.

Before you can loose your bravery, loose your courageous little heart, you stand and move to his side of the bench so that you can watch Klee.

Your shoulder brushes with his. Your thigh touches his. You’re aware of it all, sharply, keenly.

He looks at you and you gaze back up at him. For a moment, you get swept away in his star-blue eye. The bend of dark lashes. Like the butterflies in the field, your heart flutters, feeling as delicate as their wings.

“Careful,” Kaeya says softly, so smoothly that his voice could be a melody, “or people really will think we’re in love.”

Heat smarts your face again. But you tip your chin up because you’ve never shied away from a challenge before; “why do you say that?”

Kaeya suddenly reaches out and carefully, as if you might fall to pieces at his touch (and really—you think you might), takes hold of your chin. His thumb barely brushes your bottom lip. Then he says, “the way you look at me.”

“You were looking at me first,” you accuse but your voice is hushed.

“And you shouldn’t melt when I touch you.”

Your stomach swoops like a bird in the sky and then soars. Your lashes flutter. You’re close to him—almost nose to nose. And now you really do think of kissing him like he’s actually yours. As if he could be.

His eye drops to your lips, thumb inching upwards.

“Then you shouldn’t touch me so.” You murmur, earnest, and if your voice is soft with pleading—a pleading for what, you can’t tell—then whose to say? “Like—like you want to kiss me.”

Your nose brushes against his.

“Don’t—” his voice sticks, “don’t kiss me. No one’s even watching.”

“Do you not want me to?”

“Yes, I want—” he stops.

Your heart sings. I want, I want, I want—

He swallows, “we shouldn’t, though.”

“Why not?” You dare to ask, hands drifting to his chest, his collar bones.

You can almost, almost feel his smile, slow and fond, “well, firstly, you’ll get cooties…”

“Kaeya,” your own smile is a warm curve that you want to feel against his.

“Secondly,” He begins, drawing in a soft breath that you feel beneath the palm of your hand.

“I have a butterfly!” Klee shouts, head suddenly poking up from the wildflowers in a burst of petals.

You and Kaeya jolt away from each other, hands drawing back into your laps, facing away from each other as if teenagers caught by your parents. Heat zips through you in a rush.

He almost—you almost—

Something in your chest bats its wings, excited, elated. It takes to flight. A smile overtakes your face, winning, determined.

Oh, you think, glancing at him as you head to Klee, oh, you want me, too.

She opens her little hands for you and the moment she does, the butterfly escapes into the sky—taking to flight.

You laugh as she squeals.

She races after it.

And then you do, too.

In an instant, Kaeya has joined you, too.

And it dissolves, the sun slowly moving throughout the sky, into running and chasing and laughing. The joyful sound of your laugh, of Klee’s excitement, of Kaeya’s fondness.

It melts like the sky, like your heart, like the way you do when Kaeya touches you.

There’s a moment, quick, when you’re in the wildflowers with him. He’s on his back and you lean over him.

He peers up at you.

Beautiful man that he is with sparkling eyes.

You think, people really will think we’re in love, if you look at me like that.

And then you say, boldened by the day and the sun and the warmth and the tempo of his heart beneath your open palm;

“You’ll be mine yet, Captain.”

He blinks, perhaps surprised, before a full, warm laugh falls from his lips.

“Is that a challenge, princess?” He purrs, looking up at you with a halo of flowers beneath his head.

You grin, beautiful and wicked and radiant.

“It’s a promise.”

And then you stand to run after Klee, down the sloping hill, and into the arms of the sky hanging above your heads.

He watches you and you can feel his gaze on your back, your silhouette against the sky, your laugh caught on the wind, and tuck the vow into your heart.

Hope it tucks into his, too, finds it’s home there where no one has before and claim it as yours, yours, yours.

You open your palms and a butterfly, blue as the sea, as a bird’s wing, leaps from your hands and takes to flight. Takes to the sky all open just for you.

***

SCENE IV

The belltower in the Cathedral, high above Mondstadt. Storm clouds cling to the horizon. The sky is mostly dark, but the sun escapes through a sliver of clouds and still shines for now, casting the world in a strange contradiction. More ominous. More stunning. Burnished buildings set against wicked, deep blue storm clouds.

Your skirts swirl against gold and silver bells, as blue as the clouds. Kaeya turns and twists, so we only catch flashes of his face.

Kaeya takes the steps near two at a time to keep up with your pace. You lift your skirts with one hand, racing up the curving, stone steps, and your other hand holds fast to his. You drag him up and up and up.

The whole day, you’d dragged him all over Mondstadt, to all your favorite places; bakeries and music stores and the library. Eagerly, he’d followed, been at your side, at your heel like a loyal dog.

(A lovesick pup—)

Kaeya thinks he could spend countless days with you like this.

The world is always more brilliant with you—he can’t deny it.

And now, you’ve promised him another secret place of yours.

“How much further?” He breathes hard, surprised to find himself winded. His legs almost burn; there have been far more stairs than he originally thought. Or was promised. but he was also promised the best view in all of Mondstadt, with one of your sweetest smiles.

And really, how could he have denied you then? How could he deny you at all today?

“Not much!” You chirp back and then all it takes is a little more, until you come to a wooden door.

It gives easily under your weight, your excited push, throwing it wide open.

Light gleams, the world bursts before his eyes in a shimmer of gold, a rain of color and life.

You sweep into the space, the arch beneath the stones and over the other side of one of the great bells. If he peers down, he can see the wooden scaffolding where someone stands to pull on the huge rope below. No doubt, it would take up this whole space, swing wildly so that the two of you would have to nimbly dodge and move, duck just to keep your heads.

He hopes you’ve accounted for this, too.

He follows you carefully around the bell, only to come to the other side of it and have the whole world open up before you.

And it’s just you, in the breeze, and the storm clouds, above all of Mondstadt.

You hang, perhaps a little too precariously, off one of the large stone pillars.

Kaeya has half a mind to grab you, to pull you back towards him. But the wind favors you.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You breathe and you’re so taken with it all, that he can hear your voice catch.

“It is,” he agrees, but he’s not looking at the world the way you are.

He’s looking at you.

He watches you watch the streets below and the clouds above. He watches love and adoration paint across your face; joy and a strange sort of melancholy.

Oh, you’ve always been so open.

Finally, you inhale.

Whilst still looking at the world below, the heavens above, you say, “I can’t explain what it does to me–the sky and the city and the wind when it touches me.” You look as if you could almost cry, and immediately his heart gives a lurch in his chest, “I don’t know how anyone can stand it.”

Something in him twists and constricts. He wants to wipe your tears. He wants to coo, don’t cry, don’t cry.

You laugh, “I’m sorry,” and shake your head like you’re silly, “I can’t help it–I’m just so happy. I adore the world so much.”

You turn to face him, open and raw, “I know these haven’t been ideal circumstances,” you start and you shift, and like he’s drawn to the movement, like you’ve pulled him in, he moves, too.

And then he’s standing in front of you. In front of an ancient bell from a nation that isn’t is, but could be. Above the whole world. Beneath the storm of it.

“But I’ve been–” a tear escapes and again, as if he possessed, before he can even think, his hand has darted out to catch it. You laugh again, joyful and aching, “you make me so happy. And I—“

“Doesn’t seem so,” he murmurs, “seems I’ve made you cry.”

You laugh again, sweet to his ears, like their own song. Your hands come up to his chest, palms open and flat against his racing heart. He’s sure you can feel it. Can you hear it? He hopes not.

And no one is watching. He doesn’t need to stand this close to you or wipe your tears.

You don’t need to put your hands on his chest and look up at him like that, in a way he doesn’t deserve.

(You’ll be mine yet, Captain.)

You look at him like he could’ve hung the moon. Or carved your beloved Mondstadt itself with his own hands from hill and valley.

An ache spreads its wings like a bird in his chest. It isn’t fair, he thinks, to be looked at by you, with this expression on your face, when he knows he can’t have you. He knows you can’t be his, not truly.

He wishes you wouldn’t look at him so.

“They’re happy tears,” you tell him, pawing at his chest, creeping up towards his neck. You sway towards him. You finish what he tried to stop you from admitting, “—and I adore you.”

Kaeya’s heart gives this twist, like it’s trying to rebel against him. He wants to run. He wants your arms around him. He wants—

“Careful,” Kaeya murmurs reflexively. Careful of what, though, he can’t say.

Careful with yourself around him? Careful with him?

You don’t heed his warning at all, and like you always have, you barrel towards all that you want. You press up to him.

“You do make me happy,” you say again, sweeter now like honey on your lips, tip your chin up like you might offer him a taste.

“Everything makes you happy,” Kaeya counters, shaking his head fractionally, looking down at you with lidded eyes.

“Not true,” you almost pout up at him, shaking your head, fingers tightening in the collars of his shirt like you know he’s thinking about fleeing.

He has half a mind to kiss you. You’re leaning up on your toes a little. He can smell your perfume; red berries and honeysuckle. Warm vanilla. He feels something tighten inside of him, hot and aching. He needs to put a stop to this—

He says your name, in warning. Perhaps fear.

And you look up at him through the fan of your lashes and say his name like it’s a melody, “Kaeya.”

He shakes his head now, fractionally, “don’t.” He murmurs, voice a low rumble.

“Don’t what?” You ask innocently and then you do it again, as if you know perfectly well, “Kaeya–”

His hand comes down to clutch your wrist, to keep it from moving around to the nape of his neck. He stills you.

You look up at him, questioning, almost desperate. Perhaps unsure–you go to pull away, but he seizes your wrist, holds it tight to his chest and keeps you close.

Thunder rumbles.

“Don’t say my name like that.” He croons, voice a little rough, “don’t torture me.”

He watches your face transform into understanding. Into—

Your fingers sink back into the fabric of his clothes, emboldened, “Kaeya,” you say like it bursts on your tongue, and then again, “Kaeya,” you hum, sing his name on a note that could be its own siren song. “Kaeya,” you purr as one of your arms winds around his neck.

His poor heart—

He makes a noise; a soft groan of frustration, a little growl, back in his throat.

“You’re such trouble,” but his other hand is squeezing at your hip now. “I swore to everyone I had nothing but pure intentions with you.”

Your nose brushes his, a smile licking at the corner of your mouth, “I surely hope not.”

“I’m supposed to protect you.” He gets out.

“You do—you are.” Soft, sweet little assurance.

He shakes his head again, barely, nose brushing yours. Fractionally closer. “You’re my responsibility.”

“Are my desires, too?” You murmur and when you lean towards him to close the short distance between your lips, he suddenly seizes your jaw in his hand.

You gasp.

“And what of mine?” He asks, eye glinting like the too-hot part of a flame. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

His voice is a low rasp.

You look up at him with wide eyes, soft in the center, your eyebrows drawing in a little and you look—you look like you adore him. Like you’re desperate for him.

“Sleeping in my bed every night, my clothes—“ Kaeya allows his thumb to drift over your bottom lip, slow, parting it from your top. He exhales roughly. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

“Kiss me,” you plead.

Lightning cracks across the sky in a fissure of heat.

“I shouldn’t.” He counters, even as you kiss at the pad of his thumb. Lips soft and warm, wet as your tongue darts out in a flash of heat. He inhales tightly, letting his thumb be drawn into the crux of your mouth.

You look up at him through your lashes. He has to fight back another groan. There’s a flush on the nape of his neck, heat that swims beneath his skin. He’s certain you’ll melt him with your gaze alone.

What’s he supposed to do?

How’s he supposed to survive you?

He scrambles for his wits.

And firstly, he pulls his thumb from your lips.

“Kaeya—“ you coax again, “Kaeya.”

“Stop it,” he hushes, “I can’t.”

“I want you,” you murmur, almost whine.

“You’re a brat.” Kaeya groans finally, “stop tempting me.”

“I’ll beg,” you sing sweetly. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“No,” he says quickly because the thought of that makes his mind screech to a halt. “Never. I’d never—“

Make you beg.

He swallows around the words sharply.

He lays his hands, long and broad, on your shoulders.

He forces distance between the two of you.

Thunder grumbles unhappily across the sky.

“I’m not going to kiss you.”

“But you want to?”

And the way you look at him, so earnestly and so desperately—

“That’s besides the point—“ You open your mouth to speak, only for him to continue, “my job is to protect you. This would be highly unprofessional of me.”

“Since when have you—“

“You deserve better.” He finally says, words flying from his mouth before he can stop them, “I am, frankly, a rake and a cheat and—“

“That’s not—“

“The point is,” Kaeya continues over you, lest you do something even worse and try to fight or deny him, “it would be unwise of us.”

“I, for one, have never claimed to be wise.”

Kaeya laughs now, full and warm and fond. He shakes his head. You’re near glowing with just the sound of his joy. So he continues;

“It would be foolish. Perhaps, even, one of the worst things we could do.”

His voice lilts, turns melodic.

Your hands are back on his chest somehow. Flat over his heart, nearing his collar again. He’s losing. You’re sidling close and he wants to bring you closer still. He can feel all the curves of your body to his, fitting up against him like a missing puzzle piece.

“Utterly disastrous, really.” He continues, voice growing fainter. He’s losing.

“Wildly reckless?” You murmur, tipping your chin up, offering your lips to him like a sweet lamb to sacrifice.

“Terribly…” he drifts, feeling the brush of your lips against his, “stupid, I’m afraid.”

You hum lightly, barely, in acknowledgement before he’s suddenly closing the distance and kissing you soundly.

Oh, he’s lost.

(It’s a promise.)

The wind picks up sharply for a proper storm. Lightning flashes behind his eyelids.

And that’s all it takes, Kaeya realizes, heart swinging wildly in his chest like a bell tolling. Knocking against his rib cage.

You throw your arms around his neck and deepen it.

He groans in defeat, damning it all, and grabs at the skirts of your waist, squeezing at your hips desperately.

Damn it all, he thinks again, knowing it’ll be something of a shipwreck; brutal and splendid and massive. Beautiful and heartbreaking enough that he just won’t be able to look away.

More thunder, sky swirling and teeming and ready to just burst. He can feel it under his skin.

You sink your hands into his hair. He nips sharply enough at your bottom lip that a gasp is wrenched from you. He swallows it.

He wants so much more.

The sky opens up and rain falls from the heavens in a golden and brutal downpour.

***

SCENE V

Dawn Winery in the evening, plum dark and warm from fire in the hearth. You and Diluc are at the grand piano, seated side by side, in an intimate and cozy parlor room.

Kaeya has just entered and we see the side profile of his face as he watches the two of you.

“Oh, do you remember this one?” You ask and immediately, music fills the space as your hands dance over the keys in a sweet, jaunty little tune.

“Like this?” Diluc asks, setting his hands to the lower side to immediately complete the melody you play. “It’s this one, right?”

“Yes!” You exclaim, the two of you playing with ease, a smile on your face. “We used to play this one all the time for our parents.”

It’s such an innocent remark. Kaeya is almost caught off guard by it, by the memory that floods back to him.

Crepus in the lounge chair, your parents across from him on the settee. The glow of the fire warm and gentle. Faces of people that swim in his mind, that he hasn’t seen or has avoided for a long time now, their smiles and laughs. People who left. Who died. Ghosts that once listened to your music, just as he is now, on the outskirts.

Diluc, surprisingly, is not put off by the memory. Instead, he smiles, “I used to always mess this part up.”

And then with ease, his large hands cascade over the keys. Not a note out of place.

“And look at you now!” You encourage him.

He laughs softly, low, like the fire in the hearth.

With ease, the two of you close the song together, watching each other with crinkled, happy eyes for the timing. For the last notes.

He can hardly stand how lovely you look. Or how you look at Diluc.

Have you ever looked at him like that?

He clears his throat.

When you see him, your face lights up and the way you say his name, with such warmth and adoration makes him feel worse somehow, “Kaeya!”

Immediately, Diluc’s face hardens.

“Apologies,” Kaeya says with perhaps more chill than he anticipates, “I didn’t mean to interrupt the concert.”

“Not at all,” you respond, “how did we sound?”

“Your music is lovely as usual.” Kaeya responds flippantly and you eye him for a moment, scrutinizing.

And then, slowly, you say, “then you wouldn’t mind if we play a few more? This piano does bring back fond memories for me.”

There’s a glint in your eyes; it could be the fire that favors you or a trick of the light.

And because Kaeya pretends he doesn’t care, he says, “please; don’t allow me to stop you.”

He takes a seat on the settee as far from you and Diluc as he can manage.

Diluc sets his hands back to the keys and opens with a few, small notes, “do you remember this one?” He asks you.

“How could I forget?” You laugh, “I sang this one at every party and soiree we ever had.”

And Kaeya also instantly recognizes the first chord that Diluc eases out, the tune of it like his childhood. He remembers you standing so small and young, by the piano which seemed so much larger when he was a boy. Your glowing face and sweet, little voice.

And when you open your mouth to sing this time, it’s mature and warm, lower but more distinguished.

The lyrics must come to you like from a dream, he’s sure of it.

As if it was yesterday, you sing the song of a different time, a different lifetime ago it feels like. Of late nights in this very parlor, with laughter and the clinking of glasses. A house full. A heart full.

You sing of angels and the moon in the sky, the stars, and a love from forever ago.

And really, it’s so horribly fitting for you; the song is as in love with the world as you are. How could anyone sleep, you sing, how could anyone close their eyes to the night sky? To love?

Kaeya realizes sharply that he feels as if he’s been sleeping for a very long time.

He’s turned his eyes away from the stars and love and the whole world.

And you, wonder that you are, have been desperately trying to wake him. To show him again.

The last concluding notes ring softly, hang in the air, before you are smiling and leaning onto Diluc’s shoulder, hugging his broad arm to you happily.

Kaeya looks at the two of you, the light and dark of Mondstadt. The joy and pride of the city, so beautiful in the fire.

How could he ever compare to the two of you?

“Kaeya, did you remember that one?” You ask suddenly, turning to face him.

He somehow manages to unstick his voice, and lies, “not really.”

After a moment, a heartbeat where you seem to see right through him, you ask, “shall we go home?”

Yes, he wants to say. Let me take you home. Let me take you away.

Instead, he says, “I’m hardly in a rush.”

You stand from the piano bench and saunter over to him. Diluc turns to watch as you come to stand between his legs, peering down at him.

“I missed you today.” You say honestly, “were you busy?”

Kaeya won’t return the sentiment in front of Diluc. In fact, he’s surprised that you’ve come this close in front of him at all. He thought this was supposed to be between the two of you and no one else.

Selfishly, he wants to keep it that way. He wants you all to himself.

Kaeya glances at his brother, then back to you. Diluc’s eyes narrow fractionally in suspicion as Kaeya says, “very, unfortunately.”

You tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. Your fingers drift then, hovering around his jaw like you might touch him more. You don’t. You say, “let’s go home, then.”

You offer him your hand and when he takes it to stand, you don’t drop it. You tuck up against his side. Kaeya feels something wobbly and fragile take a few, tentative steps inside of him, like a newborn fawn.

How strange, he thinks, to imagine you as openly his. How strange, to have your genuine affection, your genuine adoration.

“Thank you for playing with me, Diluc,” you say with a smile, “I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother today.”

“You’re never a bother,” Diluc promises like the gentleman he is, “and I am always charmed to play the piano beside you.”

Diluc glances down at your interlocked hands. You let him look. Kaeya fights the urge to pull away and create distance. You squeeze his hand. You say to Diluc, “perhaps we should throw a soiree, the way our parents used to. I miss being in the manor. And then we can play for everyone again.”

Everyone except the ghosts, Kaeya thinks, their faces pale in his eyes.

Diluc seems as wary as Kaeya is, for once, but it is so hard to deny you. Kaeya knows that well.

As if to sweeten it, you let your head tip onto Kaeya’s shoulder, cuddling up to him even closer, “I think it’d be great fun. A reason to come together again.”

Diluc meets Kaeya’s eyes briefly and he can already feel the scolding he will receive. He can already feel Diluc’s doubt and judgment. But instead of starting a quarrel, he says to you, “Perhaps we can arrange something.”

And really, Kaeya thinks it's a testament to how charming and lovely you are.

You bid Diluc goodnight, sweet as ever, and lead Kaeya out by the hand.

He can feel Diluc’s gaze burning into the center of his back.

And the moment you pull him around the corner and out of Diluc’s eyesight, you turn and suddenly pull him down into a deep, slow kiss.

Kaeya’s eyes flutter in surprise and immediately, he attempts to pull away from you. It’s one thing for Diluc to see the way you held his hand, it’s another thing entirely for him to catch the two of you like this.

You hardly let him get a word out, before you’re pulling him back down into a dirtier, heavier, more desperate sort of kiss.

He yields with a soft, surprised noise of wanting. He kisses you back, just as dirty, just as desperate—tongue licking into your mouth, heat stoking to life along the nape of his neck, the curve of his spine.

When you pull away, he manages to get out, “well. Hello to you, too.”

You smile, wide and lovely. “I did miss you.” You say again, as if you know you have to convince him, and that he never believes you the first time. And still, he thinks you must be lying. You’d never miss him.

But you lean up onto your toes to get him to kiss you again; which he does. Easily, happily. It’s gentler than the previous, a little more content, though no less heated. He draws you closer, as close as you can get. His tongue dips gently into your mouth, deep and hungry and exploring. He feels the fabric of your dress bunch up beneath greedy hands, pulling at them, pawing at you.

A cleared throat.

The two of you jump apart, whirling around to face Diluc in the entryway.

He does not look pleased.

Kaeya, for once, feels like a younger brother again, caught red handed. He opens his mouth for some strange excuse, but you beat him to it;

“We’re taking our role as a couple very seriously. Archon forbid the Fatui question our legitimacy.”

Kaeya can’t help the laugh that barks out of him, before Diluc’s glare forces him to clear his throat and compose himself.

“I can see that.” He says dryly.

“It was my fault,” you then add, “Kaeya is, for once, blameless. I’m a bad influence.”

“I highly doubt that.” Diluc drawls, “he’s never blameless.”

Kaeya opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it again.

“We will truly be taking our leave now.” You then say, tugging at Kaeya’s hand, “goodnight, Diluc!”

The door slams hard behind you.

Kaeya looks at you, your back to the door, chest heaving a little. You look back at him.

And then you burst into laughter. He shakes his head, but he can’t stop the smile that comes onto his face. The laugh of disbelief.

“Diluc is going to kill me,” he finally says, “I can’t believe you.”

“Oh,” you coo, striding past him, “should I protect you? Diluc is harmless.”

Kaeya laughs again, though this time it’s dryer, not as funny, but more ironic.

Well, he has an eyepatch to certainly prove otherwise. You must catch onto his shift in mood, because you take his hand again and assure him, “I’ll deal with Diluc, if you’d like.”

“No,” Kaeya says, “no need to fight my battles.”

“I did get you in trouble.”

“Well, that I can’t deny.” Kaeya agrees with a smile, slipping his hand around your waist and this time, he knows it is real. Realer than ever before.

The stars are bright above your heads. The moon is full and shining like a coin and casting you in its soft light. Your eyes are crinkled in delight.

“You’re also a liar,” you add and Kaeya pauses, looking at you.

It strikes a strange note in him.

You continue, “I thought you said you weren’t the jealous type?”

Kaeya’s brows prick upwards, “did you think I was jealous?”

“Kaeya,” you say his name warmly, with love, “I could feel you glaring a hole into the back of our heads while we were at the piano.”

Kaeya laughs, but it’s rather hollow, “I’m not the jealous type, my dear. I’m sorry to disappoint. Did you have fantasies of being ravished by me in a jealous rage?”

It’s a little barbed.

If you notice (which you do), you don’t take his bait.

“Well, now that you say it…” you tease, walking backwards and in front of him, a sly little smile on your lips.

Kaeya shakes his head, “there’ll be no ravishing.” He promises, “I’m being a gentleman.”

“Hm,” you hum lightly, “and how long do you plan to keep that facade up?”

“It’s not a facade–” he starts to protest, but your hand is winding in the front of his shirt to pull him back into your orbit.

You pull him into a hard kiss.

This one is more desperate. Heavier. Hotter.

He sees what game you’re playing.

The walk home, in Mondstadt’s streets, for everyone and the moon to see, is a game of cat and mouse. Kissing hard and soft, slow and fast, against brick walls and wooden fences. Leaning into shadows and sharp, little gasps. Teasing kisses along the jaw, before slipping away, and back into the night.

You manage to lead him right up to the threshold of his bedroom.

He takes a stance here, roots himself down. He swallows hard—he has to steel himself, he knows.

So he goes no further than the arch of the doorway, no matter how much you pull at him, or kiss him or tease him. And as hard as it is, he doesn’t even sway when you gaze up at him with that look in your eyes; dreamy and enamored.

You look at him like he could be a great man.

It’s absolutely horrifying. His heart jumps in his chest. He can feel as if he can hardly breathe.

“You really won’t sleep with me?” You ask, lips hovering just beneath his. His hands are latched tight to the doorframe of his bedroom as to stay them. To keep his resolve.

Kaeya shakes his head, “I’m a gentleman.”

You let go of a tired sigh, “I don’t need you to be one.”

He swallows hard.

“I’m afraid I need to be one.” He answers.

“I didn’t take you as chaste.” You murmur, kissing at the corner of his mouth, his cheek. All that warmth comes rushing back to him.

“Hardly,” he scoffs reflexively, allowing you room at his throat, down the length of his neck. “But I am trying to preserve–”

He stalls, when he feels your tongue at his pulse.

You blink up at him innocently and supply, “you’re trying to preserve–?”

He clears his throat, “some level of professionality. Dignity, maybe.”

Protection, too, though he isn’t sure anymore if it’s for you or him. Perhaps both.

The only way he sees this ending is poorly–he cannot foresee a current future where you don’t end up disappointed and hurt by him. He cannot see a future where you don’t leave for your own good.

And besides, all things must end, he knows, all people must leave or be left behind.

He was left once and he’s vowed to never be left again, standing in the rain, shivering and young.

(He tries not to think of you—left at an altar.)

You pull away to look up at him, sweet-eyed and gentle, almost amused with him. “If you say so.”

Reluctantly and with a great deal of his strength, he leans away to put distance between you. Coldness sweeps in. He tries to appreciate it. “You should sleep. You have rehearsal early tomorrow morning.”

You step away as well. You offer him a little curtsy in jest, “as you wish, my most proper and chaste lord.”

“I’m a lord?” He asks, astonished.

“A prince?” you ask, “or do you prefer a knight? We can roleplay, if you’d like–”

“Goodnight!” Kaeya announces then, reaching for the doorknob to begin swinging the door closed, to put distance between whatever it is growing between the two of you.

You laugh, though, so warm and wonderful at his antics that he just can’t help it; he kisses you once more, soundly, goodnight.

And this time, he says it gentler, lower and sweeter in a way he knows makes you shiver, “goodnight, princess.”

He watches you fluster, the way you blink up at him. And now it’s his turn to laugh, low and soft and hot, before he quickly swings the door the rest of the way shut. Locking you on the other side of it. Far from his reach.

Lest he do something horrible.

Lest he want you too greatly.

But when he lays down on the couch to sleep that night, he realizes he can hardly sleep at all–and, really, he thinks, who could sleep at all? With the night sky like diamonds, and the way you kiss him like you have everything to lose, and everything to gain.

Like he could be desired to keep.

How could he sleep at all? When there is a door between the two of you? And the world hums and glows and shifts, right from underneath his feet.

How could he sleep? He hears you sing, around and around in his mind, at the piano of his childhood, and the one tonight, a lifetime later.

***

Finish the rest on Ao3 ->

a/n: this act was too long to post on tumblr in full and i would've had to split it into three separate posts. i figured linking ao3 would be easiest to finish reading :)) thank you for reading!! let me know your thoughts!! <33

#kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich x you #kaeya alberich x y/n #kaeya x reader #kaeya x y/n #kaeya x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact x you #cielo writes!#cielo's writing!#cielo collabs!#my heart your song

64 notes · View notes

mirdance · 2 years

Text

Innamorati

Summary: Darling, even though you might be shared amongst all the Fatui Harbingers, remember who you serve and where your loyalties lie. Remember who saved you. Where this ice rests in eternal sleep, the gods cannot hear your prayers. Only I can. Pairing: Pierro x Reader Rating: NSFW. Implied sexual content, yandere, emotional manipulation, mind games, referenced non-con acts, religious imagery

Notes: This is part of a Fatui Harbinger collab where each Harbinger shares a darling. As usual with me, there will be smut later. Shoutout to Sunnie who created this beautiful header.

Recommended Music. AO3.

Fools preach the joys of worship. Within the Celestia I saw why the gods do not communicate with open arms. That moment judgment forces you to recount what has sat at the center of your soul, pried away like a newborn's first cry, you'll not talk of joy.

Pierro flipped the page. Stains and tears lined the edges, only a reminder of the cycle which fell to all. Each carefully turned page, the sound of ticking, and your soft snores were the only sounds that sailed through the chilled air of his study. An unfinished game of chess sat on the table between you like a forgotten memory.

Sleep. A rarity for any of the Fatui. The moonlight trickled through the window behind him. Cascading snowy shadows decorated the pages of his book. Though snow blanketed the landscape outside, the piles would never completely cover the ambitions of the Snezhnayian people. Like the weight of moonlit snow on pine branches, the soul held strength to endure.

What sort of things would you endure?

He’d thought the chess game before him would provide useful intel. Games and toys were worthwhile if they were useful. Take a children's slingshot, for example. While entertaining for the young, it also served the purpose of teaching survival. Dolls taught young ones the art of conversation. Stuffed animals provided some substitute for the innate instinct of touch. A proper toy also served as a tool.

Taking the toys away or losing them also taught important life lessons.

But the so-called toy that sat before him had yet to elaborate on its gifts. Striving to hone one's abilities was one of the beauties and curses of human nature. For each of the Harbingers, a toy's survival differed. For Pierro, useless toys were unneeded. While many collect toys to sit and look pretty, his toys needed to provide.

Another page.

"Who knows if the gods understand the greatness of the human soul, even while watching us prattle the secrets of our lives. Human suffering is a power in its own right, one they could never fathom. A god's memory reeks of apathy while treachery against the tormented lasts for generations. The people cry out in holy prayers--dirt embedded within the nailbeds of their crossed fingers--for rest. Yet Istaroth never provides the time for that peace, and prayers on one's knees only waste daylight. The cathedral words fade as a snowflake upon winter heaps until they are all but frozen as one beneath boot prints. Still, the gods demand that knee, as if they already didn't have the universe."

Another page.

Gusts of wind bellowed against the trembling window. Your eyes slowly opened and took a moment to process the setting like a mammal coming out of hibernation. Pierro continued reading while your brain and body took its time to catch up with being awake.

He'd spent hours playing chess with you. After all, the other Harbingers often put your body to its limits; it was only kind of him to provide you with what was probably a much-needed break. Falling asleep was not what he had in mind for that break, but he had a text to analyze, anyway. There was always something to do, and his toy didn't provide much usefulness in the things needing done.

Your upper lip moved in hesitation to permit words, an apology probably, but you quickly tightened your jaw. Some comrades did not enjoy being spoken to without speaking first. Pierro did not care unless the words were pointless. Of course, the meaning of words differed from individual to individual. What words a person provided told their story.

What was your story?

Words also provided layers like the blanketed snow above deadly ice above freezing waters. They veiled and masqueraded. Yet that, too, told a story in itself.

"The way you silence yourself reveals much of what you've had to endure," Pierro commented while flipping another page. "Speak freely with me unless I deem otherwise."

You bit your inner cheek and eyed the chessboard as if it would change design by sheer will alone. "Forgive me, but hearing you say that provides little comfort in this situation."

"I know we've gained little ground in terms of mutual trust, but what you provide for the Harbingers is paramount. In my presence, though, I've yet to see its fruition. Alone with me, you do not have to sit and look pretty, even if it is a pleasant side benefit."

You didn't bother with your next move even though it had been your turn before slumber reached. "Well," you croaked, testing the sounds against your alveolar ridge. "What book are you reading?"

"It’s the journal of a fallen soldier," he answered, which was not totally a falsehood. "A rather blasphemous book to many. Are you religious?"

You shrugged. "I suppose it depends on who's asking."

Smart. "I see. So, you are not religious. It seems we have something in common."

You shifted your legs. "That's a surprise, considering your loyalty to the Tsaritsa."

"Indeed. For her, I am devoted. One could see that in a religious sense depending on the perspective. Is there anything to which you are devoted?"

The chess pieces remained as thoughts circled your mind, reflected through your pupils. "Not anything I can think of at this time."

Bold. "Everyone is devoted to something, even if they do not see. Tell me, are you familiar with Mondstadtian theatre?"

You shook your head. Your eyes briefly flickered to his and back to the board again.

"For monarchs of old, royalty kept a court jester. Jesters had many vocations within their role. Comedic relief was one. The same goes for the jester of a play. Often these Fools would point out shortcomings within royal meetings or people and stories in humorous ways. Like a dance of death, teetering on offense yet accurate. The audience laughs, yet those with understanding know what lies beneath the surface of the hilarity. The Jester knows all, the story from beginning to end, as well as the enigmas of each character."

He flipped a page before speaking again.

"Some people might say the Fool not necessary for a good story. Why have a clown recite the story when the words are already presented to you in the form of dialogue"

He continued scanning his pages.

"Ah," you spoke. "Probably so the audience knows when they're being tricked and what they're up against. Maybe the interpretation is less convoluted that way?"

Interesting. "Some would view that as hand holding. If the Fool's words are even to be trusted, of course. Many a people make for unreliable narrators, and that includes Fools. Still, the importance of their position within the story is unlike any other."

"I didn't take you for the humorous type," you commented carefully, almost biting the words back as if you'd accidentally bitten your tongue.

He chuckled. "Maybe not, no. I am not necessarily devoted to any sort of typical humor, but the role itself is fascinating, wouldn't you agree?"

You nodded.

Dialogue, the art of conversation, would pierce through you yet.

“To circle back to your inquiry. Ah, before that, tell me,” he ran his fingers through his beard. “Are you literate?”

You nodded.

He waited a few beats for you to elaborate, but no sound came. Still, being literate at all was a feat in itself. Just how literate were you was the question. He stood from his chair with book in hand and knelt beside yours. With a flick of his thumb, his saved reading spot was open to your eyes.

“Care to join me in the pleasure of reading?” he inquired. “You can go first.”

With a careful nod, you cleared your throat to begin. “Waylaying the plans of a god might seem prideful to those without ears to hear, but what would man say if that same god took the innocence of their child away? I have reached the heavens, only to see a throne in name. The same throne that grants vision in the same breath that it snuffs them. Waning though I am, I can still remember the tiny fist of my daughter, stamping her knuckles against her game bored at her loss. In the same way, gods demolish the board rather than admit their wrongdoing.”

You paused in thought. The edge of your braid tickled his arm as you leaned to glean more of the book’s content. And then you spoke. “When I was a child learning to read, I remember my mother gifting me a fairytale. The tale featured a bear that couldn’t fish. Though the reading level was simple, the words confounded me. After many desperate attempts, I threw the book against the wall.” A chuckle softly escaped your lips. “My mother in the next room never even heard.”

“You seem to be doing fine now,” he noted.

“Yes, I’ve…had plenty of opportunity to study. Not to mention that little me was also very determined to pick the book up off the ground the next day and try again.”

“Do you think the gods in this story similar to your dilemma as a child?”

You pondered the question. “While I’d need more context, I’d say the message the author is trying to implicate here is that the gods in this tale act more like petulant children rather than trying to learn or grapple an understanding of their creation.”

Pierro hummed in approval. “Maybe the gods aren’t ignorant or weak as much as they are prideful.” Though every single being, including gods, had a weakness. Felling a god proved difficult, but once fallen, it was a matter of destroying the remaining shades.

“I would say that is the downfall of many,” you replied as your eyes scanned more words on the page. “But it could also be a strength, I think, depending on the context.”

Pierro shifted on his knees and beseeched you to elaborate.

“Well, taking pride in your accomplishments is one of the beauties that life affords us, I think. Feeling proud for creating something nice or doing well. Those are normal human emotions. With anything, it can become a burden if you allow.” You gestured towards your barely touched glass of wine. “Like alcohol.”

“Are you not one for wine? Or was it not to your taste?”

Your hands quickly gestured in disagreement. “The taste is delectable I just…have learned that having smaller amounts makes for more pleasant company.”

Or you were wary of what one might put in a drink, Pierro mused. Not to mention that clarity was vital when dealing with Harbingers. Not that Dottore kept such things in mind; wine was probably restful in comparison with whatever medications he played with. Pierro didn’t begrudge your slowness of drink. On the contrary, having such mindfulness of your surroundings was endearing.

“There is no need to worry.” He took one of your hands —cold to the touch— in his and rested it in your lap. “I am more curious about your mind. While wine is certainly one way into a person’s mind, I would prefer yours to be unclouded.” Gaining trust without the help of alcohol proved more useful in the long run.

You did not push his hand away. “My mind,” you whispered. Your gaze fell to the side along with a chuckle that puffed from your dry lips. “Would you dissect me like Dottore?” Pierro chuckled in turn. “Not physically, no.” “Why was I chosen to be here,” you quickly pleaded. Your hand trembled slightly beneath his own. “My talents are miniscule, even if all you people wanted was a fuck toy.”

Your brashness struck him as if you’d struck him with his book. “Interesting. So, you think you are nothing but a fuck toy. Tell me, don’t you take pride in anything?”

“I used to.” Someday you’d elaborate without being prompted. He was certain. “What was something that you used to have pride in then? If I might be so bold, I do not think it was chess.”

Now that caused a laugh. “No, but it was something similar. Fencing. The sport. Smallsword style. It is often said that fencing is like chess at the speed of light.”

That was news to him. Glancing at your arms and thighs, he could tell even through the fabric you wore. One bicep protruded more than the other, and even with one eye he could see the shapely tone of your legs that drifted down the plush chair as gracefully as a ballet dancer. While the sport itself was not one hundred percent in tune with combat abilities, it did prove useful for many instances. Were you competitive? Judging by the unfinished chess board, competition was not at the forefront of your mind.

“Fascinating. I have heard that such a sport is popular in Fontaine. Did it originate there as well?” He’d known the origins, of course, and he’d known that those origins were not the true origins. As with most things of this world, beginnings were buried within the surface away from prying eyes. To know the beginning would be to know the fragility of the world and its creators. Perhaps some would think it best to keep such things buried beneath the dirt so that those who could abuse such knowledge kept away.

“The origins are a bit complex, but the sport derives from many different cultures,” you chirped, pulling your hand away from his and to your chest.

Pierro encouraged you to go further. He wanted, needed, to hear what you could put forth. And as the words poured from your mouth, he was blessed with an output of excitement that slowly bubbled from your stomach to your esophagus to your tongue until it settled in the sporadic gestures of your palms. Endearing could certainly describe the scene, but only time would tell if the joyful glint in your eyes was simply because you hadn’t had a proper conversation in so long. Either way, the passion you bestowed pierced the very air like a perfume.

During a pause, Pierro spoke up. “Would you call yourself adept with the blade?”

The book had been long closed and set to the side, yet he still lingered by your chair’s side to follow your gestures and eyes.

A slow and steady grin graced your lips. “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m awful. Sometimes I helped the local children. There are many people better than I, though.”

“There will always be those that are better than we are, even with the things we are passionate about. It seems, though, that perhaps this is something you could take some pride in, hm?”

You exhaled. “Maybe so.”

Silence hung in the air with the unspoken; your arrangement did not provide you time for leisurely pursuits. Pierro doubted many of his Harbingers allowed for such times. He would find out, though, and with each piece of information he could understand where their mindsets lie. This was especially important considering the unrest that trembled through the Fatui. The unease that came with death and ranks and betrayal.

Pierro rubbed his thumb gingerly over the leather of his book, waiting to see if you’d continue your tantalizing speech.

You did not.

Instead, your eyes fixated on the chess board.

Pierro gripped the book in his hand and lunged his arm forward toward your chest. Surprise lined your features, yet your arm instinctively parried his attack to your right quarter. As if on instinct, you riposte with your hand to his chest. After a momentary victory grin, shock flushed your features; you stilled as frozen as a prey. Your hand stayed resting on his chest, probably unsure of how to proceed. Striking a Harbinger, whether a form of self defense or not, could be detrimental for you unless otherwise granted permission. Perhaps you’d become so wrapped in the conversation that you’d forgotten where you were.

Which was the idea.

Pierro bowed his head slightly forward and gently pressed his hand over yours. “It seems the touch is in your hands. The point goes to you.”

Your hand quickly retracted; you held it to your chest. “I didn’t know we were…sporting. I apologize.”

He chuckled. “Well, you didn’t seem interested in chess, so I figured the scene could use something you might be interested in.” “Why…” you stuttered. Your brows knit together as your jaw clenched. “Why would you care about what I’m interested in?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” Pierro replied calmly. He leaned his elbow on the armrest of your chair. “I’m interested in getting to know you.”

“Why.”

“Why does anyone want to get to know another?”

“To use them.”

“That could be a reason for some. But aren’t we all using each other, then? Even for love, comfort, contact, companionship. Basic human needs. One works for his employer to feed his family. Another works to surpass his employer. Each culture and society dictate which reason is more noble. Do you find one more noble than the other?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know anymore. Most might say love or companionship. But I…” You hugged yourself. “Food. Less pain. If that. If I can get those things, I’d do anything. Who gives a fuck about getting to know each other when I’ve hardly eaten in two days and my arms hurt from getting slung around? The bruises haven’t even healed.”

You winced before Pierro could even blink, most likely expecting a blow that never came. Pierro was not one to succumb to anger as easily as some of his Harbingers. Your anger only opened you up more, made you more vulnerable. In some ways, it was beautiful.

He gently took your chin between his fingers and watched water form into droplets that welled from the corners of your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks. He ran a thumb along one of the water trails and took a tear onto his thumb. Your lower lip shook as you tried to bite back the emotions. It had probably been many moons since you’d had a moment to allow yourself the time to anguish. To grieve everything you had lost.

“It’s okay to cry for now. The range of human emotions knows no bounds, and you may not get the chance to mourn later. But your basic needs. I will provide them. You will not be without food, shelter, or clothing. You will not lose your life here. In exchange, I need something from you.”

He continued wiping away the wetness of your face with the cuff of his sleeve.

“Become a Harbinger.”

“What?”

“I cannot promise you complete safety or status. But if you become my eyes, I can make things more bearable for you. All I need is loyalty and what comes with that.”

“That…that sounds too good to be true,” you croaked. “I don’t really want to be a Harbinger…what does that even mean for me?”

“When you’re on duty with another Harbinger, I need you to report every single detail to me upon return. You will receive a new name. You’ll most likely stay within headquarters, but that does not mean you will not ever go out into the field. This likely means bowing to their whims just as you do now. Possibly more so since you will be their underling. But along with your information comes my promise to provide you with more comfort.”

“So I’m just a spy?” You laughed. “Just another tool?”

“Do you have any other choices?”

You frowned at the floor for a moment, catching yourself about to speak and then slamming your lips shut. Pierro would allow you time, of course. Not that you knew that. It was easier to catch you in this moment than allow time to think. Either way, you’d take the opportunity. Pierro would probably do the same if he were in your shoes.

“I’ll do it.”

“Well, then,” he softly grabbed your clenched hand and leaned to place his lips against your knuckles in a kiss. “Your partnership is appreciated. Your name is now Innamorati, number twelve of the Fatui Harbingers. Though we bow to her Majesty the Tsaritsa, never forget where your loyalties lie.”

Number twelve and traitor to them all. Official ceremonies and authorization would be yet to come, but you didn’t need to know such things. What mattered was the power of the mind, how you viewed yourself, your choices, and your duty. All of which aligned with the stage he’d set to play. While the physical chessboard sat dormant to the side, a more important one laid in the palm of the hand that held yours.

#pierro #pierro x reader #pierro/reader #yandere fatui harbingers x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #mir writes

447 notes · View notes

paperclipninja · 3 months

Text

A @goodomensafterdark smut war fic brought to you by Dulux (not really, please don't sue)

This is a collab between @harlotofupdog and @paperclipninja, collectively known as Harlot Ninja (maybe? Not sure. TBC).

We hope you enjoy the chaos as much as we enjoyed creating it.

Rated: Explicit

Summary: “You did what?” “I submitted an expression of interest for us to be on the next season of Fabulous Flips and we have been accepted!” Aziraphale responds gleefully. aka Aziraphale and Crowley are contestants on a home renovation show and things get a little out of hand.

Excerpt:

“You did what?”

“I submitted an expression of interest for us to be on the next season of Fabulous Flips and we have been accepted!” Aziraphale responds gleefully, his hands performing a small clap of jubilation, apparently forgetting that they are meant to be shelving books in the overfull shelf beside him.

“No I heard you, I was just hoping I’d misheard,” Crowley replies, craning his neck forward as a crease takes up residence on his brow. “And what on earth is Fabulous Flips? Some kind of ludicrous pancake competition or—“

“No no, it’s that home renovation show! On the telly! The one where you’re always pointing out how terrible humans are at making decisions that are ultimately insignificant.” Aziraphale hefts another pile of tomes into his arms and wanders to a new shelf, willing its already tightly packed residents to make just a little more room. Crowley follows.

“Well they are,” Crowley agrees, “but that doesn’t mean I have any desire to prove it. What, with Jimmy whatshisface and that annoying Jeremy fellow? What brought on this sudden desire to renovate, angel?”

Aziraphale purses his lips thoughtfully as he lets out a considered exhale through his nose. “Well I was reading—“

“What a shock—”

“I’m being serious Crowley!” Aziraphale cries, frustration bubbling below the surface. “Oh I just knew you’d be like this.”

Continue reading on AO3

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #aziracrow #ineffable spouses #ineffable smut war #crowley #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #smut fic #goad smut war

48 notes · View notes

inkedtae · 1 year

Text

lurking in the dark ⇾ kth [M]

↳ written for @jamaisjoons 's happy hentaiween collab

⌁ pairing; bogeyman!taehyung x curvy!reader (f.)

⌁ genre; monster au, s2l, pwp, angst, horror smut, 18+

⌁ word count; 7.5k

⌁ summary; don’t look. it’s best to stay tucked under the covers. folktales warn against acknowledging him. it only strengthens his power. yet, he is all you want to think about.

⌁ warnings; dark themes: mentions and depictions of violence, death, and smoking (cigarettes), mentions and possession of weapons, explicit sex: dom!taehyung, sub!reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, oral (f. receiving), size kink, praise kink, masturbation (f.), degradation, humiliation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f.), finger sucking, choking, edging, teasing, biting, manhandling, light breast play, cum play, spit play

⌁ le playlist

❥ an extremely special thanks to my bestie eva ( @nottodayjjk ) for reading through this fic for me in such short notice and easing all my worries. sending you a million hugs and kisses! 💗

❥ happy, happy birthday to the bright light in my otherwise dark life, kim taehyung! you are my sun, stars, and moon 🐻🤍

❂ Nightmare Before Christmas ⁂ hosted by yours truly (professor bee) through @bangtansorciere

⤐ au type: pumpkin king - villains ⤐ themes: monsters/beasts ⤐ kinks: breath play, masturbation, finger sucking, cum play, overstimulation, begging, degradation

Virgil Manor sits on the edge of town square, festering in a dark pocket of superstition and paranoia. A pile of chipped bricks, wood and plaster all glued together to form an irregular, slanted rectangle that looms over Blue Haven. The white paint has faded, turned a murky grey, and shutters have almost rotted from a bright pink to a mouldy green. The rusted metal bars, bolted over the windows, do not make the sight any more appealing.

In 1910, Blue Haven was a trading port, and the mayor insisted on living in a house that was grand enough to look over at the sea. It took three years to build the manor, production briefly interrupted by a wave of civil unrest. Taxes were a pain back then too, the cost of living too expensive, and hunger plagued the little town. Civilians rallied and burned the homes of the less guarded, easily accessible aristocrats.

Starved and furious, scorned from the fire, a member of the aristocratic Kim family (his name scribbled out of every history book) stormed the Virgil Manor. He’d just heard his little brother’s cries, his mother wailing, pleading for help. He witnessed his father hurry back into the flaming house and the structure explode from the pressure. Motionless, he stood in the woods as the mob moved to the next house. They say the smoke burned his eyes black, poisoned him with a wrath worthy of destroying worlds.

KEEP READING

tags; @afiaaaa19 , @indiacasson , @diminieshoe , @renaefraserblog , @yange7l , @dvalitaes , @vaderyoongi , @isasimpfor-taetae-bunnyboy , @soeur-de-ame , @nomunamuinmybrain , @anobodyslove , @blipbloopiwannaeat , @yoontaerry , @indigoreads , @lethaldelight , @svintsandghosts , @azula-karai-27 , @sourbows , @rainierose

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other reader. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work.

#taecember 2022 #btshoneyhive #bangtangames #bangtansorciere #kim taehyung smut #taehyung smut #v smut #bts smut #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfic

141 notes · View notes

jjksblackgf · 2 years

Text

me and mr. jung | jhs (m)

My embarkation ticket to The Seven Seas Collab hosted by @ressjeon. The deep blue waters can be just as messy as solid ground.

pairing — investor!hoseok x singer!reader summary — Looking to diversify his investments, Jung Hoseok decides that cruise ships are the way to go. To get the lay of the land, he embarks on a promising ship, where one of the beautiful performers has his attention immediately. genre — smut, fluff (ish), forbidden love, love at first sight au rate — 18+ word count — 7.2k warnings — explicit sexual content, pov switch, alcohol intake, power dynamics, masturbation (f), unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating if you squint. author’s note — this fic had so many plot changes, y'all 😭 Alas, it's here with all it's glory. Shoutout to Yannie for putting together this amazing collab, and for brainstorming with me <3 And yes, there will be a part two in the future.

The indigo blue stress ball was at its last leg in Hoseok’s hands. He sat behind his mahogany desk, listening to his financial adviser babble about his personal portfolio. He’d seriously considered spiking his cup, but no amount of bourbon on his coffee could make this meeting interesting.

“Listen, Derek,” Hoseok started, “As much as I love talking about money with you, we’ll have to finish this another time. I have another meeting to attend.”

“Oh, of course, Mr. Jung,” Derek said apologetic, already getting up from his seat. “I’ll reschedule with your secretary.”

With Derek out of his office, Hoseok could finally roll his eyes and take a deep breath. How his father managed to get by day in and day out in this company was a mystery. Taking a short minute to rest, he placed his elbows on his desk, looking at a photo of him and his father. His mom took it on a trip to Disneyland when he was five. With big Mickey Mouse ears, and a smile that looked soldered to his face, all Hoseok wanted was to be like his father. He was sitting on his father’s lap, and the picture looked a little blurred, like he’d be jumping up and down, too excited to sit still.

Many times over the years, Hoseok would come to this very office and see this picture that never left his father’s desk. When dad was in a meeting, he would sit on his leather chair and pretend to make important calls, sometimes indulged by dad’s secretary. All that little boy dreamed about was to be important like his father and make him really proud.

If he only knew then about the boring meetings with stuck-up business associates, and the bootlicking, barely competent employees, maybe he’d rethink his decision to be a hedge fund manager. Yes, he did get the fun part of dressing in tailored suits every day, but the fun would end there most of the time.

Even with a boring job, Hoseok hadn’t noticed that he’d become a workaholic just like his father. Getting home too late to cook dinner, leaving too early for a proper breakfast, eating lunch at a restaurant every day. How does one become a workaholic with such a boring job? Boring job, but having a talent with numbers. Boring job, but being trained by his Ivy League education. Boring job, but being able to accurately predict the market for his clients. Boring job, but fulfilling his own dreams and his father’s dreams. Boring job, nonetheless.

“Amanda,” Hoseok called through the speaker, “Please reschedule my agenda for this afternoon, I’ll take the rest of the day off.”

“Yes, sir. What should I tell them?”

“Just make up an excuse. Once you’re done with that, take the day off as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hoseok didn’t give a second thought to his decision, just grabbing his coat and wallet before leaving. His apartment was the only place that came to his mind at that moment. No place else sounded interesting enough.

Turning the keys to his apartment, the first thing he noticed was the mail, piling up on top of his foyer’s accent table. He took them to his couch, determined to sort them out today. He didn’t have anything to do anyway. But by bill number three, he’d given up, laying down and whining into the cushions.

Too many thoughts, too many decisions to make. Should he change his career? If yes, would that tarnish his father’s memory? Would his mom think of him as a traitor? What else was he good at? If he was going to stir the pot, it would have to be something he’s really good at, right? His mind gave him no rest, yet somehow he managed to fall asleep.

Three hours later, his body still felt tired. Hoseok opened his eyes, his gray walls looking like an infinity pool. He had promised himself to buy some art as soon as possible when he moved in. Yet another chore that got pushed back to make room for meetings. He didn’t know if the sun was still up, but the pink hues of the sky clued him in.

Through his peripheral vision, he spotted something colorful on the floor. It was a little too distracting to his eyes. He was still a little disoriented, a little sleepy, but the colorless apartment helped his search.

With blue and gold letters, an invitation.

Sweet Night Cruise Line would like to formally invite Mr. Jung Hoseok to embark on his next business adventure…

The plane from New York to Lisbon went like a blessing. No screaming babies, no dogs, no fighting couple one seat behind, no chatty passenger by his side, he even slept through the whole 7 hours. A first for this Jung. The flight from Lisbon to Málaga went much the same, fairly empty for a Friday afternoon. Hoseok wanted to take this as a good sign.

But the real showstopper was provided by Mr. Kim, sending a limousine for the one hour drive from the airport to the pier. To take the fastest route, the driver avoided the coast, driving through a small highway. He regretted he didn’t get to see much of Málaga, but that went away as they reached Venus Beach. From his window he could see the locals and tourists enjoying the beach views restaurants. He’d promised himself to come back here before his “business trip” ended.

With a keycard in hand and his luggage being delivered to his cabin, Hoseok followed the young concierge escorting him to Mr. Kim, who was hosting a crew member party before the guests arrived the following day.

“Hoseok, look at you all grown up!” Mr. Kim said, coming to greet him at the deck. Hoseok laughed as they shook hands.

“It’s been too long, Mr. Kim. I hope everything is going well,” Even if not fond of small talk, Hoseok always knew to be polite to everyone, especially to his father's close friends.

“They certainly are. Here, have some champagne,” Mr. Kim offered, waving at a nearby waiter. “If you’re not a party man, Hoseok, my crew will most certainly make one out of you,”

“I can imagine, this is looking impressive!” The party was already a rave. Cameras flashed everywhere, and the music was not awful, vanilla jazz like at his office. That already set them apart from the office crowd he knew. The canapés were to die for, the bottles of champagne just kept on coming, and he couldn’t quite see from that far, but he thought he saw some guys setting up a karaoke machine.

“There’s no crew party like Sweet Night’s. Here, let me introduce you to our staff captain.” Mr. Kim guided him towards a tall man. His black hair was carefully pushed back, and he wasn’t wearing his uniform, or anything super formal for that matter, just a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow and gray slacks. He noticed Mr. Kim was also dressed like the captain, just with blue and black variations of colors. He immediately regretted his choice of dressing in a three-piece suit.

“Hoseok, this is our Staff Captain and my nephew Kim Namjoon,” Mr. Kim introduced, “Namjoon, this is Jung Hoseok, a dear friend of mine, and possibly a future investor. He’ll be staying with us for the first half of our trip.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jung, I’m very pleased to have you aboard. I’m sure you’ll find our accommodations to your taste,”

“Thank you and please call me Hoseok. I’m already feeling like an old overdressed man, and I’m not even 30 yet.” Hoseok joked and they politely laughed.

“Nonsense, you’re dressed just fine. You have good taste in tailoring,” Mr. Kim encouraged. “Would you like a short tour of the ship? I’ll give you a proper guide as the week progresses.”

“Sure, let’s go.”

Mr. Kim showed very little of each floor. He started by going down two levels and introducing the restaurant and dining hall. As soon as the elevator doors opened, he could see the massive staircase leading to the level above it. The walnut wood was delicately carved into banisters and chairs, probably the tables too. The tables were set with cream colored linens, complimenting the blue curtains and the deep brown of the chairs.

Going up a level, he could feel the mood switch. The stage perfectly fitted the space. What Hoseok assumed was a dancing floor, was surrounded by small black tables with four seats each, and two circular bars, with at least fifteen seats. The stage was currently tinted with blue light. It had a piano with a 50’s microphone by the side, with two more on the back. The bars were impressive, each with many LED panels on the back and glass shelves by the sides holding many brands of different liquors.

“This place is bigger than what it looks like right now,” The nephew explained. His deep voice made an echo as they left the empty room. “I would suggest for you to come tomorrow night. It’s 50’s themed, we’re expecting for the dance floor to be full.”

“I’ll certainly come,” Hoseok promised, even though it didn’t sound that promising, as the elevator doors closed behind them.

“And we reach full circle,” Mr. Kim finished the tour. They reached back to the deck, where a big pool and two bars were located. Getting familiarized with the deck, Hoseok looked around, before locking eyes with a familiar face. He knew her from somewhere. He looked puzzled at her, and the woman looked puzzled back. Then realization hit him as they walked closer.

“Daena?” he asked, unsure if it was really her or not. A childhood friend, someone he hasn’t seen in at least 15 years. He saw her last at a pool party at her parents mansion, the summer before 8th grade. Her father was his father’s closest friend in the business world. They’d become attached at the hip for years before Hoseok went to a boarding school in Switzerland.

“Hoseok?” she asked back. When he smiled as a yes, she ran to his embrace. Her hug was as tight as he remembered and she still wore the same floral perfume.

“I’d wager you two know each other,” Mr. Kim joked, and they laughed, pulling away from the hug.

“Yeah, since we were kids, actually. Our fathers were close,” Daena explained, stroking Hoseok’s arm gently. Even if time drove them apart, Daena would know that his father’s passing would always be a sore spot for Hoseok.

“Ms. Daena, I don’t think I introduced you to our staff captain. This is my nephew Kim Namjoon,” Mr. Kim introduced them, and Hoseok noticed as she got shy. Her smile was curt and didn’t reach her eyes. They only nodded to each other.

“What are you doing here anyway, you workaholic?” Daena asked Hoseok, teasing him with a slap to his shoulder. “Don’t you have a country to buy or something?”

“I’m actually here as a possible investor, thank you very much,” Hoseok indulged her teasing, putting his hands on his pockets and leaning forward.

“A powerful man never stops working, I imagine,” she said tantalizingly.

“Hoseok is a man that knows how to work hard while playing harder,” Mr. Kim joined in their banter. He continued to explain how Hoseok’s visit would take place, but Hoseok was too far gone to pay attention.

Only 10 feet away, standing by one of the bars with a drink in her hand, there was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her skin glowed and contrasted with the pink and orange shades of the sunset, as if she spent the last week being pampered by the sun. She was laughing with her friends, her summer dress flowing with the soft breeze, but still clinging to her figure. She looked well rested, her face showing nothing but enthusiasm and curiosity.

Her lips looked soft and inviting as he noticed the shimmer of her lip gloss. What a smile.

Hoseok wanted to know that woman. He wanted to know if she smelled of fresh gardenias like he was imagining. Her eyes glistened as she spoke to her friends, and he could tell they were entranced. Must’ve been an interesting story. Or she could just be saying some bullshit. He wouldn’t judge her friends for being hypnotized. It wasn’t their fault. He turns to his group, already engrossed in another conversation, yet he wasn’t ashamed to interrupt their discussion.

“Excuse me, who is that woman in the pink dress over there?”

“Oh, that’s Y/N, she’s one of our performers. She has a lovely voice.” The nephew, whose name he would make a note to remember, answered.

“I’m sure she does.” He could no longer take his eyes off of her. He felt Daena nudge him in the ribs with her elbows, but he didn’t care if she was going to tease him.

The singer was sipping a delicate looking drink. Maybe a Cosmo? Cranberry vodka? But that was only an afterthought. Hoseok was mesmerized by her body. Her shoulders were exposed, and that already made him salivate. Let alone the curves of her breasts, peeking through the opening of her cleavage. Her legs were another thing entirely; a central feature in Hoseok’s mind. They would be the star of his imagination for many days to come. Her beautiful feet were adorned with delicate heels, with thin straps that swirled around her calves. Sexy. Beautiful. Hot. Goddess.

“Do you want to meet the crew?” Mr. Kim asked, and Hoseok snapped out of his trance.

“If that’s not too much,” Hoseok agreed, trying his best to not break into a victory dance.

The soft wind shifted in their direction, and with it came the most delicate sweet scent. It had to be her perfume, no questions about it. Once they reached her, Hoseok had to concentrate very hard to not drool at her feet.

“Ms. Y/N,” Mr. Kim called, “This is Jung Hoseok, he’s a dear friend and he’ll be our guest for the first leg of our trip.”

“Hello,” she said, and Hoseok felt like he could melt right there. Was that shimmering bells he heard when she spoke? “Is very nice to meet you, Mr. Jung.” she offered her hand with that kilowatt smile. Concentrating very hard in forbidding the excitement in his stomach to travel to his pants, Hoseok shook her hand with both of his. Better to focus on her soft hands instead of the thrill he felt when she called him Mr. Jung.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Hoseok almost whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“And this is Ms. Lee Daena, another dear friend and our guest,” Mr. Kim intervened.

“Is very nice to meet you, Ms. Lee,” Hoseok was completely hypnotized, only looking at Y/N as she spoke to Daena. The softest voice. The sexiest voice. The reincarnation of Aphrodite herself.

“Please, call me Daena,” she said, shaking the hand Y/N extended. Daena also pinched Hoseok’s arm and whispered “Get your shit together.” He didn’t.

“I heard you have a lovely voice,” Hoseok complimented Y/N. Anything to distract the butterflies in his stomach. If it was anything like her speaking voice, Hoseok could only imagine the hold she had on the other guests.

“That’s what I hear too, but I don’t think I can agree that much,” she said with humility.

“Maybe I’ll just have to hear it and judge for myself, then,” Hoseok teased, focusing on keeping a smirk off his face.

“I guess that would be best,” she agreed, and her eyes sparkled. Hoseok couldn’t help but pay attention to the beauty of her face now that he could see it up close. Her cheeks looked as soft as her hands. He wanted to see it for himself. He almost slipped in his composure. Maybe some other time.

“Well, let me introduce you to the rest of the staff,” Mr. Kim said, taking Hoseok off his trance again.

Mr. Kim was right about the crew party. There would be no other like this. The food kept coming, along with the champagne. He was partly expecting to see a beer keg somewhere, and he had to remind himself he wasn’t at a college party in the 90’s. The karaoke was set at a makeshift stage, and various staff members took their turns. Hoseok also expected for Y/N to go up there and sing too, but she kept her place amongst her friends.

Hoseok was torn the entire night. He knew he was on vacation, but to everyone else he was a guest. And to stare at a staff member was wildly inappropriate. But he couldn’t help it, she was just too magnetic. She was probably a siren, taking him off his normal routes and alluring him to his death. Hoseok fidgeted the entire time he was accompanying Mr. Kim as they made the rounds. Every now and then, he’d look at her direction like a lunatic.

“Stop staring or go talk to her. Either way, stop squirming like a little boy,” Daena whispered by his side, only playfully annoyed.

“First of all, I’m not staring, I’m just making business observations about the deck. Second of all, not while Mr. Kim is looking,” Hoseok whispered back.

“Afraid of getting caught, Mr. Boy Scout? Not much wild in you, huh?”

“Stop talking like that. We’re not in the 60’s,” Hoseok hissed, and she chuckled. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Just because,” she said, shrugging. “Don’t worry about that. I'll distract Mr. Kim now, make a run for it.” Daena offered and immediately started an animated conversation with Mr. Kim. Hoseok didn’t waste time, and in seconds he was at Y/N’s side.

“I thought I was going to see you sing tonight at the karaoke,” he said, making her turn to look at him.

“I thought I could give the other a fighting chance,” she answered, taking the last sip of her drink.

“What if I was Ebony and you were Ivory?” he joked, and she snorted, rolling her eyes. “Maybe some Endless Love if you’re feeling really corny.”

“Oh, that would be just fantastic. But between you and me, I don’t know if you can hold an E-flat,” she teased, leaning into him.

“Try me,” he leaned forward too, whispering the words to her. He looked into her curious eyes, and for a moment he forgot where they were. Her cheeks looked tempting again, but they were overshadowed by her lips, plump and soft, almost parted for a kiss. He leaned even more, throwing caution to the wind.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” someone asked by their side. A tall male, one of her friends, stood there with his hands in his pockets. Y/N corrected her posture, and Hoseok was quick to do the same. The friend looked suspiciously at Hoseok, before doing the same to Y/N.

“Yes, I’m ready,” she announced, grabbing her phone and adjusting her hair. “Have a good night, Mr. Jung.” she said politely.

“Have a good night, Y/N.”

A lot of mantras went by Y/N’s head during the past three weeks. Ignore the way he’s looking at me. Do not bite your lip right now. Stop imagining yourself on your knees. Stop staring at his lips. Dating a guest is wrong. Dating a guest is wrong. Dating a guest is wrong. They all seemed worthless in the end. She could only listen to the last one.

“Again, another great set,” Hoseok complimented, reaching for her hand. She took it as she walked down the stairs by the side of the rehearsing stage. Ignore the way it feels when he holds your hand. If he could only read her mind… “You do know how to put a setlist together.”

“Well, thank you,” Y/N said, “I am a fan of the 70’s, so I had to go all out.”

“You say you’re a fan of the 70’s and yet I see no Bee Gees in there,” Hoseok teased.

“That’s because I actually have a personality.”

“Oh really? With all that ABBA? You say I don’t have a personality, but if you really want to talk about something generic…” Hoseok continued, shrugging his shoulders.

Y/N gasped, pulling her hands off of his to playfully slap his arms multiple times. “You did not just call ABBA generic!”

“I’m sorry,” he laughed freely, trying to avoid her hits.

“Just when I was starting to like you, and you say stuff like this,” Y/N whined, crossing her arms. She pouted, shaking her head. She thought she was looking pathetic, but anything to flirt with him.

“Aw, look at you pouting,” Hoseok whined, teasing her. “Would you forgive me if I apologized?” he said softly, stroking her arm with one hand, grabbing her chin with the other. She let him guide her eyes to him, and he smiled softly.

“Maybe,” she encouraged him, maybe batting her eyelashes a little. He squinted his eyes when he saw the playful smile on her lips.

“I’m sorry for thinking ABBA is boring and generic,” he said mockingly, a big smile plastered on his lips.

“Because they are influential to pop music to this day,” she said, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m not saying that,” he countered, with the bickering yet defying voice he always had.

“Yes, you are,” she chanted, her smile only getting bigger. She thought he would be used to it now. It’s not like that was the first time he made fun of her musical taste.

“Because they are influential to pop music to this day,” he said, sighing heavily after.

“How did that taste like?” she asked, already knowing he hated saying those words.

“Like vinegar,” he frowned. “So, am I forgiven?” he probed.

“Yes, you are,” she said softly.

“That’s good,” he whispered. She then felt Hoseok caress her cheek, ever so tenderly. His thumb left her chin and grazed her jaw, before his hand traveled to her neck.

She took in a sharp breath. No one was around to witness any of that, Y/N was always careful to talk to him without anyone around. She wanted this to be the moment where she finally gave in to her desires. To finally kiss his lips, that looked so soft and inviting. He leaned forward, his nose touching hers, his sweet breath hitting her face.

“We can’t,” she whispered. He took a deep breath, but he didn’t move an inch away from her.

“Why not?”

“You’re a guest,” she started, “And I could-”

“Don’t think of me as a guest,” Hoseok interrupted, taking a step back to look into her eyes.

“I don’t have any other way to see it,” she continued, shrugging, “I can’t jeopardize my job like this.”

“You won’t,” Hoseok said, taking her hand back in his. “I kind of work here anyway, so you should think of me as a coworker.” He insisted and she laughed nervously.

“I can’t, that’s not what you are. You are a guest, and possibly my future boss. My love life needs to be separate!”

“I get that, I really do,” Hoseok sighed. “I’m sorry for putting you in this position, I’m not thinking clearly.”

“You’re forgiven,” she said, kindly. She sighed and he joined her. Maybe if her decisions existed in a bubble, where one couldn’t interfere with the other…

“In the spirit of being honest, I just wanted you to know that I find you really attractive,” Hoseok said, sounding apologetic. “And I see that it was very unprofessional of me to put you in this position, and I respect your decision. And when I was flirting with you, I thought you were flirting back. It’s my mistake that I-”

“I was flirting back,” she whispered, not wanting him to apologize for something she also had a hand in.

“Okay then,” Hoseok sighed. She looked deeply into his eyes. She could feel the sorrow being expressed in her own face. “I really wanted to kiss you,” he said softly, “and maybe do some other stuff too,” he continued jokingly, and she chuckled.

“I really wanted to kiss you too,” she reassured him.

“So it’s a no to the other stuff?” he teased, making her roll her eyes. “If you change your mind…”

“You’ll be the first one to know,” she promised.

Y/N spent the rest of the day in her cabin, thinking about Hoseok. She was starting to regret her stupid, stupid decision to not kiss him. His lips were right there, no more than an inch apart with his hand at her neck. All she had to do was lift her chin a little to reach paradise. The lips she had been dreaming about for weeks. She could finally pull his hair and moan to his lips. So what if she was going to lose her job? She could always find another one. She would not find another set of arms that she would like to be in. At least not this much. The arms that would pull her to his chest, maybe even squeeze her hips.

But that door was closed. It needed to be.

Laying down on her small bed, she closed her eyes and traced all the memories she had of his hands with her own. Those damn hands. The way he touched her neck with just the tip of his fingers, his thumb caressing her cheek and jaw. He was driving her to insanity. His hands would also caress her arms, tender strokes that she wanted to feel in every inch of her body.

She wished he was there with her. She wished she could guide his hands through her body. If he was going to drive her to insanity, at least drive her to orgasm too. Too worked up to look back, she imagined his hands cupping her breasts. Her breath caught, and she felt her nipples getting hard through the fabric of her dress.

She also wanted him to touch her thighs. His palm would travel up and down her legs, before settling at her hips. She quickly pulled down her underwear, not wanting to lose the momentum of her imagination. She also wanted him to kiss her inner thighs, but her fingers would do for the moment. Moving up and down softly through her inner thighs, she whispered his name.

Her fingers reached her folds, and she hissed once she realized the pool that formed. Slowly circling her clit, she moaned his name again and again. She imagined what his lips would feel like. She wanted to grip his hair for him to stay put, and his tongue would go up and down per her request.

Her fingers picked up the pace, and she curled the sheet with her free hand. She wanted to feel him moan against her cunt, beg for him to suck her clit. The knot in her stomach got tighter and tighter, and she couldn’t control herself anymore. She moaned his name again, loudly this time, as the climax reached her body.

“Shit,” she whispered. She knew at that moment it was impossible to ignore the way he affected her. She honestly didn’t want to.

“I ain’t got no money… I ain’t like those other guys you hang around,” Y/N sang the first lines of her last song of the night. The crowd was exceptionally encouraging, she would give credit to her stage presence. At first they mostly drank at the bar, and some couples danced together, but at that moment they all paid attention to her performance, she was giving it her all. She could pull all that passion from personal experience. “I Wanna Be Your Lover” was only the cherry on top, to end the night in a funky mood. But the true crowd pleasers were “If You Really Love Me”, “If I Were Your Woman”, “Let’s Stay Together”, and “Touch Me In the Morning”. Oddly timed.

Did she really have to set up all of those love songs on the same night she decided to not deny her desires? And to make matters worse, she knew he was watching. She moved her body the way she knew he liked it too. Swinging her hips this way and that. Dancing and tapping her hips to the beat of the drums. She was also feeling herself in her bell bottom jeans with bell sleeve tie top. A dangerous combo, but she wanted something out of that night. She wanted him.

So she decided to let him know. He would need to pay attention to that moment.

“Before we end this beautiful night, I just wanted to dedicate this next song to a friend of mine,” she started saying before the band could leave their marked places. She found him in the crowd quickly, locking his eyes easily. The unscripted message got his attention. “I hope he’s paying attention. I’ll know he’ll like this one.” She took a deep breath and started acapella.

“Me and Mrs. Jones,” she started the first notes and the crowd cheered, some couples went back to dancing, enjoying the slow pace of the song. “We got a thing going on,” the band followed her lead, one by one until the song was luscious and lustful.

“We both know that it’s wrong,” Piano.

“But it’s much too strong to let it go now,” Base.

“We meet every day, at the same café,” Guitar.

“At six thirty, and no one knows she’ll be there,” Sax.

“Holding hands, making all kinds of plans, while the jukebox plays our favorite song,” The song progressed and Hoseok got closer to the stage, leaving the shadow of the bar where he sat every day to watch her perform. “Well, it’s time for us to be leaving. It hurts so much, it hurts so much inside.” He was standing in front of the stage by that point, hands in his pockets, a confused look on his face. She needed to make herself clearer.

“Now she'll go her own way and I'll go mine,” She stared directly into his brown eyes, she said everything she wanted to in her head, in hopes it would translate to her eyes. He had to understand. “But tomorrow we’ll meet at the same place, at the same time,” The confused look was gone, and a smirk replaced his features. He winked and she fell like swooning, but she could only watch while he walked away, “Me and Mrs. Jones…”

The song ended, and she wished the crowd goodnight, excusing herself before the band could ask any questions she didn’t want to answer. She started to walk around the bar and the dance floor, politely nodding while people congratulated her performance. He was nowhere to be found. She would scream his name on every floor if it were necessary.

She walked towards the elevator, but the influx of people was too big, it would take forever; she’d have to do a one-eighty and bolt for the stairs. Looking at her feet, trying not to fall in heels, she went up the steps as fast as she could.

“Excuse me, miss,” she heard a male voice in front of her, but she didn’t look up. The man was insistent and held her arm, halting her steps. She turned to face him, angry words almost coming out of her lips. But at the step behind her, Hoseok was smiling angelically, his eyes glistening under the lights of the room. “Can I have your autograph?” he continued, climbing up a step to get leveled with her.

“Yes, you can,” she replied, all traces of anger gone from her features.

“I don’t have pen and paper with me. Do you mind going to my cabin so we can find one?” He whispered to her ear, before quickly kissing her earlobe. A shiver went up and down her spine, and she had to control every movement of her body. Having sex in public was still illegal.

“Yes, we can do that,” she whispered back.

Hoseok wasted no time in guiding her to his cabin. They walked through a secluded hallway from the bar to a private elevator. She’d never been there before, but she knew it led to the VIP lounge. She barely saw the keycard hit the touch screen, and Hoseok pressed the buttons quickly. He was in a hurry too. They stood on opposite sides of the elevator, facing each other.

“Are you sure about this?” Hoseok asked, tapping his foot to the ground, he looked a little nervous.

“I’m sure.”

The elevator door opened, and he guided her through the lounge and inside another hallway. They walked too quickly, she was certain someone was watching closely through the security footage, but her decision didn’t waiver. He opened his door for her, and she stood facing his ocean view window. She could only see the blackness of the night, but she was sure it would be beautiful during the day. She heard noises in the back and turned to see Hoseok pouring two drinks from his mini fridge.

“For confidence?” He offered her a glass, but she shook her head.

“I don’t need it.” She whispered, the shaky feeling of what she was about to do finally setting in. He put the glasses down and came to her side, holding her hands to his heart.

“It’s okay if you change your mind,” he said, and she chuckled, but her stomach felt restless. She was finally getting what she wanted. His lips were close, and this time she didn’t want to say no. She didn’t have to. She was committing to that moment.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” she answered, taking a step further with a small smile. Her breasts touched the fabric of his light blue suit, and she remembered earlier in the day, with her imagination unfettered. She closed her eyes. It wasn’t going to be only imagination anymore. “Hold me,” she ordered. She didn’t open her eyes when his arms held her waist, hugging her figure to his chest. “Kiss me,” she whispered. And he did.

His warm lips were just as soft as she imagined. His tongue caressed her bottom lip, and in a quest to taste his breath, her own tongue met his. Her hands, firmly pressed against his arms, went to stroke his hair and neck. She pulled his hair, and he moaned at the sensation, holding her tighter against his body. She bit his lower lip, doing the best she could to press her hips against his own. She had his help when his hands gripped her hips and ass.

They both let loose. His jacket was on the floor in a second, and his hands were quick to untie her blouse, exposing her bra. Her hands traveled down his chest as she opened the buttons of his shirt. He stripped her pants and panties off while he kissed her jaw and neck, until he could lick and suck on her cleavage. She opened his belt and unzipped his pants in the process, massaging his cock as soon as she reached his boxers.

In a flash, she dragged his pants and boxers down his legs, and found herself to her knees, reenacting the most famous scene of her imagination. He hissed when she kissed his tip and licked his length. She spat in her hand and stroked him up and down, before doing the same with her mouth. He growled, and his deep voice excited her even further. Her walls clenched when she felt his full size inside her mouth. It filled her perfectly. She sucked him faster and faster, getting aid from her hand. She was salivating for more, clenching in anticipation. Her hand left his cock to massage her own clit. She needed no support from her wet hand, her folds were already pooled.

“Yes,” he hissed, moving his hips in harmony with her mouth, “touch that pretty cunt, baby,” he held her in place by her neck, thrusting his hips further down her throat. They moaned in unisson. He took his cock out of her mouth, the long saliva trail dripping on the floor. “Let me fuck you,” he whispered, begging. She nodded her head fiercely.

He helped her get up to her feet and guided her to the sofa by the window. She took her top and bra off and laid down, eyes wide with expectation. He opened her legs widely, and placed himself in between, holding one thigh to his waist. He used her wet labia to lubricate himself, sliding his dick up and down. She hissed as his tip stroked her clit. She clenched as he slowly entered her core, and her breath caught. She moaned his name.

“Yes, baby, call for me,” he said to her ear, catching her earlobe with his teeth. She moaned his name again and again as his strokes got faster and faster. His hand squeezed her thigh, and he grunted. The vibrations of his voice sent chills down her spine. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he whispered.

His pace never slowed, and they moaned each other's names. She felt the knot build up in her abdomen, and her breath got shallow and quicker. “Fuck me,” she scremead, breathing harder. His hips picked up the speed, the sound of their hips meeting getting louder. She felt free to moan louder as he grunted more and more. “I’m close,” she whispered, “Let me cum on that dick, Mr. Jung,” she whined. He squeezed her thigh harder, grunting incoherently. She then felt the warmth of his jizz inside of her.

“No,” he said, breathing heavily. His hips settled still.

“W-What?”

“You’re going to cum on my mouth,” he said, readjusting her body so she was sitting. He kneeled on the floor, placing her thighs on his shoulders. His tongue went to her clit, and she gasped, placing her hands on his hair. He swirled the tip of his tongue, sliding two fingers inside her filled pussy. She hissed with the sensation. He curled his fingers, massaging her spot.

“Suck on it,” she begged. He complied immediately. His free hand massaged one of her tits, and she pulled her head back, overwhelmed with pleasure. The familiar knot came back, and she sucked a quick breath. “I’m so close,” she repeated, and Hoseok increased the pressure. She tugged his hair as she felt the warm release of the knot, and in a final moan, she fell limp on his couch.

Y/N heard the birds chirping outside. Was it morning already? She felt an unfamiliar stroke up and down her back, and was suddenly alarmed. She sat up quickly in the bed, only to see a confused Hoseok laying down by her side.

“Nightmare?” he asked, worried. She rubbed her eyes, looking around his room. The memories started to flood her head. The unplanned serenade, the quick walk down his hallway, the couch. The shower that led to a second round. The bickering over her use of his shirt to sleep. “Y/N?” he repeated, sounding a little alarmed.

“I’m okay,” she affirmed, she looked into his eyes, and he was still not convinced. “Really, everything’s fine. I’m just not used to waking up with someone else on the bed,” she confessed.

“Come here,” he asked, patting the place she’d just left. She agreed, laying her head against his chest. “Good morning, beautiful,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“Mornin’,” she replied, stretching her arms and legs.

“How are you feeling?”

“Feeling good,” she replied, stretching her neck to kiss his lips. “Real good,” she continued playfully, wiggling her eyebrows. He chuckled.

“How about some breakfast in bed?” he offered, hugging her tighter to his side.

She felt her body tense, and she stayed silent. As good as it was, there were still consequences she would have to deal with. What was going to happen to her job? For all she knew, Mr. Kim could be right outside waiting to fire her while she was dressed in her panties and Hoseok’s button up. And what about the future? What did the future held with this strange man she just had unprotected sex with?

“I don’t know,” she finally answered.

“Are the regrets knocking at your door?” he asked softly, back to stroking her back.

“Yes, and no,” she admitted, and Hoseok took a deep breath.

“Talk to me,” he prompted.

“My job…” she started, sorrow seeping through.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said matter of fact. “Your job is safe.”

“What do you mean?” she probed.

“Just trust me,”

“I want to, but you’ll have to tell me,” she pushed, getting up and supporting her weight in one elbow. “What did you do?”

“It’s a long story, okay?” he answered, pushing his hair back. “I can tell you what I know over dinner, tho,” he offered, smugly. “Tomorrow night. Let’s take advantage of the fact that we are in France, and I’ll fly us to Paris for a date. What do you say?” he continued, his eyes sparkling like a puppy dog.

“I say you’re insane,”

“Well, at least I’m hot,” he joked, and she snorted.

“Hoseok, be serious.”

“I am,” he declared. She started to get up, but he stopped her, holding her arm. “Please, just listen to my offer. Let’s just say that in the hypothetical situation where your job is safe, and no one knew we just had the hottest sex of my life, would you go out with me?” She looked at his begging face for a minute, and he pouted cutely as she pondered. “Or was this just a one night thing? You don’t have to pretend you have feelings or anything. I’m a grown man.”

“I don’t want this to be just a one night stand,” she confessed.

“Okay, good, neither do I. Then back to the hypothetical scenario,” he said, cheerful, sitting up by her side.

“And that’s only if my job is safe and sound,” she threatened.

“Okay. If your job is safe and sound, would you be willing to date me?” he asked.

“I guess…”

“You guess?” he asked, shocked.

“If my job is safe and sound, I don’t want to jeopardize it…”

“So?” he prompted.

“So, any dating would have to happen far and outside from the ship.”

“Fine by me.”

“And while inside the ship, we have to pretend like nothing is happening between us.” she continued, a little more shy this time. Maybe this would be too much for him. Maybe this would be too much for her. She didn’t know if she was capable of pretending nothing was happening.

“That’s also fine by me,” he promised. “With that out of the way, do you want to go to Paris with me?”

“I’ll meet you outside of the pier by 5.”

#bangtanbathhouse #bts #bts ambw #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts reaction #bts scenarios #jung hoseok #hoseok #hoseok smut #black kpop fans #kpop ambw

363 notes · View notes