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#I often forget to pass these on but I appreciate you all so much #ask box #random

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (11) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; mentions of childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; mention of past experience of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts, business/property devt, and book talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; sexual content (making out - I know, finally) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 23.5k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii so this was quite the wait! We have come to the climax of the story and I'm both excited and terrified to share this with you. I have nothing more to say other than see you on the other side! 🤭🤭

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Whenever Jungkook creates some distance between you and him, you often understand it. It’s his default, you think, and after learning about the pain he harbors from his childhood, you’ve come to accept it. You expect it, even. 

Recently though, he hasn’t been doing much of it. He often moves closer; sometimes, he lets you do it. Tonight, it’s both - he stands near you, he holds you, and he lets you slowly close the distance until you’re just a breath away. And for a brief moment, you think that he’d eliminate it altogether. 

But you’re not in some fantasy world, so when he pulls away, you’re reminded of who you are and who he is and that sliver of hope goes up in flames. 

“I—” he mumbles. 

“I should go,” you interject, turning away so as not to see any more of the rejection in his eyes. “Have a good evening, Mr. Jeon.”

You grab your bag then rush outside, exhaling the breath you were holding in and letting the shame fill you up as fast as the elevator reaches the first floor. You want to run to rid yourself of the embarrassment, maybe be irresponsible for once and get drunk just to forget. Maybe when you wake up in the morning, you’ll find out it was all a dream - you didn’t actually want to kiss your boss, you didn’t actually think he’d kiss you back, and he didn’t actually pull away, as if it stung him to touch you, as if it hurt him to try. 

But the thought doesn’t last long.

You get on a bus and convince yourself that staying sober tonight is a better option than reporting hungover to work tomorrow. You’ll feel embarrassed either way, but might as well be more professional about it, considering that what you’d almost done - and all the things you thought about - was nothing but that. You settle for just cup noodles for dinner; you don’t deserve anything nicer than that tonight. 

Sleep doesn’t come until past one later in the evening. You spend much of your time tossing and turning, trying hard to erase the image of Jungkook so close to you. 

But nothing works. All you see are his lips. All you can hear is his breathing. All you can smell is him. 

You wake up four hours later, exhausted and incredibly anxious for the day. You want it to be over already, and you half think of calling in sick but you know that’ll be too obvious. It could set off alarm bells to Jungkook and he might call and ask how you are, and that’s something you can’t deal with either. So you power through and nap in the car, not wanting to converse with Mr. Ri because you might tell him everything should he ask the right questions.

Your plan of action is to engage with Jungkook as little as you can, in any way that’s possible. You play around with things in his kitchen and make sure you have your back turned when he exits from his gym. The energy drink and glass of water are on the counter and you sense him lingering before he finally walks to his bedroom. You let some time pass before going to his closet to prepare his accessories for the day, then head back out, cooking his omelet as slowly as you can.

The clearing of his throat lets you know he’s done, and you glance at him before placing the dishes on the table. 

This isn’t the routine. You always fix his necktie once he shows up. It’s reflex for you, and you know that’s what he’s come to expect as well. 

But you can’t bring yourself to do that right now. It’s basically like re-enacting what happened last night and you can’t promise yourself that you won’t want to kiss him again when he’s that close. You can’t look him in the eyes, you can’t take in his scent, you can’t hear his breathing without remembering how he felt like. You know you can’t have it again, so you won’t even torture yourself even more than you already are.

His tie is slightly off and it disturbs you. He doesn’t move but he doesn’t ask you to fix it. 

You sigh to yourself. He’ll live. 

You eat quickly and it’s a contrast to him picking on his food. You’re tempted to ask if the dish isn’t to his liking, but you told yourself not to start conversations or engage in anything outside of work matters, and you’ll stick to that for as long as possible. 

“___.”

“Mr. Jeon, I’ve prepared your notes for today’s meetings,” you state before he could say anything more. “And I’m meeting with the marketing team about the additional promotional materials you wanted. Is there anything else you wish to add to the ones we talked about?”

“None for now. They can go ahead with my initial request,” he responds, his voice too soft than what you’re used to, but you don’t dare look up and meet his eyes.

You ask a few more questions and he responds accordingly. The silence is deafening and though you miss the playful banter that has become part of your mornings, you know you can’t get into that right now. Somehow, this is when you can’t act like everything’s normal. Your stupid mistake and foolish assumption is where you draw the line. You just hope the day ends quickly enough before you give in. 

Both of you head down to the car. Before going inside, you hear Jungkook ask Mr. Ri how he looks and if his tie is fixed, and you internally smack your head for being so petty about this. You didn’t think that something seemingly trivial about your daily routine with him would affect you this much, as if it somehow threw things off-balance just because you were so afraid to be close. You realize now that you would look forward to those few seconds because that was the only time you had a reason to touch him. 

But he’s everything you can’t desire and given that you almost crossed a line, you know you’re gonna have to slowly pull back. Not just with regards to your feelings but in everything, as you take a peek of your personal phone and see an email notification about an upcoming book launch from Rkive Publishing. You subscribed to their mailing list right after you met their director, and you’ve been sitting on his email address and the application letter you have yet to submit. 

Since that encounter, you’ve been occasionally looking at other job opportunities in different fields. You realize that nothing much excites you. There’s not much you think is worth slaving your way for in this corporate jungle, and that while you’re currently part of that machine, the only thing that got you going these past eight years was the debt you had to pay. 

You had your reasons to stay but being at this point when you’re ready to let that go, you’re realizing that there wasn’t much else about the job that got you truly excited. Sure, it was also the people, but they’re why you couldn’t leave. It wasn’t until the planning for the Arts Center that you felt you could truly be invested in a project and have impact on it, too; it just so happens that the man behind it is the reason why you have to step away. You know it’s the only way you could finally choose yourself and pursue what you want. At 31, you owe it to yourself to do that. 

Your thoughts are disrupted when the familiar building comes into view, and you exit the car and head to your floor, trailing Jungkook this time instead of walking by his side as what you’ve come to do. You can tell that he notices the distance but you don’t want to address it. Being terrible at any form of confrontation, you don’t really want to acknowledge anything that happened. You’ll deal with him if he brings it up, and for all the times that you screwed up, you wish to the heavens that Jungkook lets this one go. 

You head to your desk while he heads to his. You make him his coffee then ask him to sign some documents. You focus on his hands as he flips through the pages, preferring to look at those instead of his face. But it’s those fingers that pressed against you last night, and you shake your head at the memory, even if all you want is to feel them again.

You retrieve the papers, your heart stopping when he doesn’t let them go right away. Your eyes widen and you still don’t look at him, even as you anticipate him to say something.

“___.”

“Mr. Min asked to meet with you after lunch,” you cut him off again before he could say more.

“I know. That email was sent to you and me.”

“Yes, sir. I was just making sure.”

He lets go of the papers now and you bow before quickly heading out. You just know he had his eyebrows scrunched at you. He’s probably trying to make sense of how jittery you seem and though he may know why, you’re not sure if he knows why.

You get through the morning in one piece. You attend your meeting while Jungkook attends his own with his father. You grab a quick lunch with Do-hyun, whose narration of her love life takes up the whole half hour, then you return to your tasks once you finish.

Hyper-focused on the file you’re reviewing, Yoongi’s usually unenthusiastic greeting catches you off guard, causing your lips to miss the hot tea that you’re about to drink. You jerk, spilling all of it on you. You subsequently hit the saucer that’s on the edge of the table; it falls on the floor and breaks.

“Fuck!” You whisper yell, as you feel the drink pool on your skirt.

“Shit, is it burning?” Yoongi asks worriedly. 

He immediately rushes to your side and grabs some paper towels from the cabinet, placing them on your lap and on the floor.

“Don’t move so you don’t spread the broken pieces,” he instructs. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m just uncomfortable,” you groan, with your knees awkwardly touching each other and your thighs squeezed to keep the liquid from spreading. 

You’re at least in a black skirt but you know the stain will still be visible. That’s the least of your problems though, as Jungkook arrives from his meeting and heads to you with a folder, only to find Yoongi kneeling on the floor next to you. Jungkook’s eyes widen, seemingly scandalized at what this looks like, and they flit from you to his friend, whose calm face quickly turns into one of panic. 

“She spilled her tea and the saucer broke,” Yoongi explains, raising the soiled paper towels as evidence. He tells you to move back so he can place them over the shards while Jungkook looks on intently. “Are you good? Do you have spare clothes?” Yoongi asks you.

“Uh, ye-yeah,” you manage to say, hating how frozen you seem to be. With the tea having been absorbed, you grab your bag from your cabinet, the one you’ve started to keep and bring with you during trips in case you get stranded again, then throw the towels in the trash bin. “I’ll just go get changed.”

You scurry towards the washroom and leave the men alone, knowing that Yoongi will hold the fort for both of you. 

Back inside, Jungkook eyes Yoongi as he calls for maintenance to clean up the mess.

“She spilled her tea and the saucer broke,” Yoongi says again. “She couldn’t move and I just cleaned up.”

“I heard you the first time,” Jungkook states.

“Just making sure, so your mind doesn’t think of whatever it thinks about,” Yoongi shrugs. “But is she okay? She seems a bit out of it.”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook looks away. “Don’t you usually know those things?”

“Well, I assume that since you’ve gotten closer, you would know. Unless it’s about you… Were you mean to her again?”

Yoongi’s unusual scowl is one that Jungkook is secretly terrified of but he acts unaffected, merely shaking his head in response and to dismiss the assumption. He’ll admit that his friend’s statement is quite bittersweet, though. Yes, you and Jungkook have both gotten closer and there hasn’t been an incident in months where you could’ve had a reason to be down because of him. 

Unless last night counts, which is something he’s still wrapping his head around. 

He thinks back to that moment right by your desk. You were so close. And he was so close to doing something more than just holding onto your waist. He saw you eye his lips and he did the same but the realization of where you both were - in a semi-open space in the office - reminded him of his limits. Sure, it was after-hours and no one would have any reason to be on the floor at that time, but it still felt too exposed and he didn’t want either of you to be put in such a compromising position, even if every part of his body was aching to kiss you. 

He wouldn’t have known you were talking about him if it weren’t for the way you held him close and that unfamiliar look of yearning in your eyes. At that moment, he let himself hope that he’s who you wanted, even if he’s also the same man you believed wouldn’t cross his boundaries for you.

Even then, you had been so bold, so honest. He wished he was as brave and as capable to express his desires as you were. He never thought you’d feel anything for him - him, the one who made your life miserable for weeks, the one who treated you unfairly because you made him feel - and want - things he couldn’t understand and control. Your calm and warm nature made him think he wasn’t anyone special. He dismissed whatever part of him that thought otherwise because he couldn’t hope for something he couldn’t have.

But last night, the way you looked at him also made him feel like all he desired was within reach, like you were within his grasp. Your lips were everything he wanted all over him. Your soft breaths were what he wanted to take in. You were all he wanted to taste and touch and hear, and he’d been so, so close to crossing a line that he said he wouldn’t because he was afraid it would push you away and that’s the last thing he wants to do.

He was overwhelmed but he was just as scared, believing that there’s no turning back if something had happened. He almost stepped over the line but pulled back just as quickly, and now it seems that that’s what’s keeping you at a distance. Because as you return to your desk, you merely bow at him then go through the folder of documents he’d given you.

“Yoongi and I will just meet for an hour,” he says. “Please be ready with the Arts Center opening event budget that I’ll go through with Hoseok later.”

“That’s noted, sir.”

Jungkook sighs in disappointment as you don’t spare him a glance. He just wants to see those eyes again, the ones that yearned for him last night, the ones that asked him - almost challenged him - to get closer. But he’d been the coward who let you go, and now he doesn’t know how to turn back from this.

He enters his room then turns around to face Yoongi.

“I feel so much and I don’t know what to do.”

“I know,” his friend hums, feeling relieved that Jungkook can now acknowledge something he’d known for a while now. But Yoongi also knows that it’s not that simple, and while he knows of the possibility that you feel the same, reciprocated feelings don’t always mean happy endings. “Just don’t… just don’t hurt her,” he adds.

“Why do I feel like whatever I do, it’s what I’ll end up doing anyway?”

“She’ll know when you mean it and when you don’t. And you know what helps?”

“What?”

“Letting her know that hurting her isn’t what you want to do. You’ve got a lot to say, Jungkook, I know it,” Yoongi remarks. “Just be brave enough to say them.”

Yoongi’s words linger in Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the day, especially during the times that he peeks through the window to get a glimpse of you. You seem determined not to look his way, as you don’t even attempt to look at his direction all afternoon. There is a lot he’s got to say, he just doesn’t know what they are or how to say them. It’s always been that way when it comes to you - he feels so much, but he's unable to let you know.

Despite your avoidance all day, he feels your absence even more when you leave at 6PM, on the dot, without sparing him a glance. He could run after you and ask to talk. He wouldn’t know how to start that conversation though, but if it would bring you to finally look at him or say his name, then it would be enough. 

He just wants to know what last night meant for you. And if it means what he hopes it does, then maybe it isn’t about turning back but moving forward. He knows it will be complicated, but he wants to figure it out with you. He’ll choose the path where he gets to be around you, close to you. Always.

Jungkook pulls out the bottle of whiskey he keeps in his drawer to momentarily drown out these thoughts. For some, liquor gives them courage. For him, he drinks it because he’s afraid to be brave.

As he replays the way you looked at him last night, he wonders to himself what he’s more scared of - never having you close enough, or losing you completely. 

The three films you watch in the cinema that Saturday afternoon are a good distraction to all the thoughts in your head. You occasionally do this because watching other people’s lives play out in film gives you something to ponder about. Sometimes, you let it inspire you to live differently. Other times, it allows you a peek into a life much more exciting than the one you have. In some instances, it gives you a sense of relief that yours is uneventful, lacking in drama and intrigue.

At this moment, you’re not quite sure what you want out of it other than to forget. What exactly, you’re not sure. Is it the way you felt when Jungkook held you? Is it the way he seemed to want more and then nothing at all? Or is it the hope you had that you’d found someone you were willing to give a bit of yourself to, only for the glass to shatter because that’s not what you do - you don’t desire for things not meant for you; you don’t open yourself to heartbreak like that. 

Jungkook has always made you feel a lot of things. This time is no different. But this time it also means more. You could lose him completely or have something with him that could be beautiful. One would hurt right away and the other could hurt you down the road. You don’t know which one you’re willing to suffer through. 

Suddenly you wish you didn’t get to this point at all. You could’ve left when you had the chance. You could’ve let him not mean to you this much. 

You continue to wallow in the sadness. You eat dinner at a ramen place before going home and settling in bed with your best friends on video call. You tell them about the past two days and narrate your moments with Jungkook during the team building that you left out when you spoke to them about it. Looking at them through the screen, you see a mix of understanding and frustration on their faces. 

“Why are you avoiding him, hun?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and comforting.

“Because I’m so embarrassed,” you groan, burying your face on the pillow. “I was so… shameless. I don’t even know what got into me. He just looked at me and I… lost all sense. Who was I to assume that moment would end well? That he’d reciprocate that honesty?”

“And you think not talking about it will rid you of that embarrassment?” She wonders.

“No. But it’s at least better than facing it,” you frown. “I’m not good with words nor feelings. And I’m sure that neither is he. I’m just trying to be professional now because I obviously wasn’t.”

You leave out your fears about meeting his eyes and hearing what he has to say. Even if he returns whatever you feel, there’s so much burden tied to that and you don’t think you’re ready for it. You don’t think you’re ready for any of this.

“It doesn’t seem sustainable though,” Soomin points out. “You’re together all the time. You’ve created a routine and a dynamic that you’ve gotten so used to. It takes more effort to avoid the whole thing, don’t you think?”

“I guess but… we’re all busy with the Arts Center opening. And I plan on tending my resignation right after,” you explain. “There’s no time to talk about feelings. I’ll just let it die down. It’s stupid to have them in the first place.” 

The prolonged silence prompts you to turn towards her. “You don’t agree with me, do you?”

“I just don’t think it’s stupid to be feeling what you’re feeling,” Soomin replies. “You spend so much time together. You’re bound to form some attachment and develop affection for him, regardless of how things started. I mean, through all the late-nights and early mornings and stresses and comfort in between, there’s something only two of you share and understand. That’s not stupid. That’s how connections are formed, hun.”

Attachment. Connection. They terrify you but they’re things that you desire as well. You don’t know how deep they are when it comes to Jungkook and you don’t know if they’re something he feels towards you, too.

“Maybe you’re just trying to convince yourself that it isn’t that serious,” she adds. “Maybe it’s because you know that it is, and you don’t know if it’s worth pursuing, if it’s worth finding out if he returns it and if being with him is something that can happen.”

You look away, knowing the truth in her words. You turn to Jimin, who’s been unusually quiet all evening.

“What do you think Jimin?” You ask him. “I mean, it’s one thing to feel something and another to act on it and risk everything for it, right?”

“There’s always something you risk once you acknowledge what you feel for another person,” he says after pondering about it. “For me, acting on it just depends on two things. Is it good for me, and is it good for them? In your case, it’s something to really think about. You’re you and he’s him. And you know what I mean. You’ve been wanting to walk away from this company for years, ___. You wanna be something outside of it. How does being with your boss help with that?”

Jimin’s words remind you of something else you’ve been yearning for - that search for who you are outside of your work, outside of all the years you spent working for this family that have become a core part of who you are. For people like you who have to work extra hard for the things you have, it becomes natural for your job to define you as a means of survival. It doesn’t give you power nor influence; it just gives you a means to get to the next day and to give back to the one person who sacrificed everything for you. 

As the years went by, it became more difficult to pull away. This family trusts you, and your confidence has only ever increased as an employee of this company, but not as a professional. You’ve been wanting to learn who you are without the burdens you carry, without the need to constantly prove yourself to the people who helped make you, and Jungkook ties you to all this. Whether it’s pursuing him or working for him, you’re afraid you’ll never be brave enough to do things on your own.

You weren’t supposed to be this attached. You weren’t supposed to be this invested. You weren’t supposed to want to be wanted back. 

But Jungkook made you care. He made you feel. He made you be brave. And he’s now the one you have to pull away from.

“You’re right,” you sigh. “Maybe in a way, I needed this to happen. I needed this… moment to remind me that I have to leave and I can’t let him be another reason for me to stay, not when I feel what I feel, and not when I don’t know if he feels the same way.”

“What if he does, though?” Soomin asks. “And what if he asks you to stay?”

“Thinking about it now, I hope he doesn’t,” you say. “It’d be much easier for me if he just lets me go. I can finally walk away from all this. And I can get over what I feel.”

“Is that what you really want?” Soomin adds.

You nod in response. “At least I know I’ll be happy outside of working for the company. Who knows what having him in my life would bring me?”

The book cafe in Mapo district boasts of an elegant yet comfortable design. It has three levels that consist of a library and working spaces, but it’s on the first floor that you find yourself in, tucked in one of the corner tables at the back with your iced coffee and fruit tart. 

You listen in awe as the author reads excerpts from her newly released book, which she narrates with vigor and emotion. She answers questions about her purpose for writing this specific story, the inspiration for the characters, and interesting things like who she’d cast if it were to become a movie and what the playlist would sound like. It’s the first book launch you’ve ever been to, and despite not being an avid reader, you have a feeling that it won’t be your last. 

There’s something about the storytelling and the process of creating something that captivates you. There’s not much of that in your world. It’s all numbers and profits. It’s soulless, if you’re being honest. It doesn’t give you time to feel or live in the moment or actually bask in the work that you do. You’re there to support, to assist, and while that used to be something you were proud of, the past year has made you think that it’s truly time to move on from it. It’s made you desensitized to things like joy and hope and love, which prompts you to realize that those are what have been missing. Working on the Arts Center gave you a taste of it. You’ve come to the point where you want to know how those truly feel like, and the job has hindered you from fully finding it out.

All your emotions for Jungkook take a backseat the more you think about what your life could be, especially while you watch Namjoon gather what seems to be his team, as he congratulates them for a successful launch. They’re all in casual clothes, looking relaxed, relieved, and fulfilled as the event comes to a close and several people approach the author and ask her to sign their books. You can imagine the stress leading up to all this, but there’s satisfaction in putting together something this intimate and meaningful. 

“You made it,” the man with the soft smile says, the child-like innocence of his face, a contrast to his very masculine build. “I’m glad those newsletters and email invites work.”

“I think they’re the only ones I actually read,” you say, earning you a brighter smile from him. “But honestly though, it helps that a book cafe is something I wouldn’t mind being in on a Sunday morning.”

“Exactly!” Namjoon beams. “It’s easy to make it a part of your weekend. Whether it translates to immediate sales isn’t the whole point, although that’s great, don’t get me wrong. But as long as there’s foot traffic and increased interest, then it’s a success. Our launches have been gaining traction on social media. And the—shit, sorry. I’m rambling again,” he chuckles. “I doubt you came here with the intention of listening to me talk about what we do and stuff.”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” you assure him. “I don’t actually go to things like this but I thought it might be a good way to have a feel of what it’s like working for your company without inconveniencing you. I mean, I haven’t applied yet but I just wanted to see if this is something I’d enjoy doing.”

“And?” He asks in anticipation.

“It kind of is,” you admit. “I don’t know. There’s just something so personal about it.”

“There really is,” Namjoon nods.

His face turns serious now, something that happens when he’s about to go on a speech about whatever it is he feels strongly about. He’s expressive and it’s quite captivating, which is refreshing in a colleague, you realize. 

Sitting across from you in your little nook in the cafe, he talks about the journey of this whole process, how he reached out to the author who turned out was trying to contact him as well. He was hoping to publish one of her manuscripts that was shared to him by a friend, but she offered this one instead, a very personal story that she trusted his company would do justice. 

“I sat the whole team down and told them what this means for her as an author and as a person, and what that in turn could mean to the readers,” he continues. “There’s so much responsibility but the return is worth more than you could imagine. Of course, it’s not always easy. We have a relatively small team for the amount of things that we have to do but it works. Communication is smooth, accountability is shared, and we build our trust and respect in each other that way. I think that makes it even more worth it in the end.”

“You’re really trying to lure me in, aren’t you?” You laugh.

“Pretty much,” he chuckles. “I just think our meetings are serendipitous. There were two people who were supposed to take on the role but they backed out last minute - on both cases, I see you the next day. The universe probably has plans.”

“It probably does,” you nod, slowly believing him. “The only reason why I haven’t applied yet is because this is all so new to me and I may not be what you’re looking for.”

“But it could be that we’re what you’re looking for,” he counters. “Even if the industry is new to you, if it’s a place you’re comfortable in and that you think will help you grow professionally, then you become what we need. It’s give and take, really. Your approach to the work impacts how you do it. Yes, it’s still a job but it also means a lot more.”

“You’re very good at this,” you say, feeling more at ease as you speak with him, a stranger who has no idea what you’re going through but is somehow saying the exact things you need to hear. “I just have a timeline I’m working around. My company has an important thing coming up in several weeks and I don’t want to leave before then. It’s also why I’ve been delaying applying.”

“Hey, if we see that we’re a good fit for each other, then we can work around your timeline,” he says. “To help with that, maybe we can chat more casually to relieve you of the pressure. I have some things to return to the office not far from here and you can tell me a bit about the work that you do. What do you think?”

It’s a suggestion you take up, so you both start walking a few streets down to a mid-rise building, a structure that sits amidst cozy cafes and small parks. 

The Rkive Publishing office is spacious. Instead of solo desks, there are large tables so there are more opportunities for collaborations, but there are small meeting rooms and private spaces as well. There are floor-to-ceiling windows, shelves that are lined with hundreds of books, and quirky art pieces that give the place a unique yet personal touch. It’s leagues different from what you’re used to, and as you appreciate the way the sunlight makes the whole place glow, you start to think that Namjoon may be right - this might just be what you’re looking for. 

You disclose who you work for then tell him your functions, narrate how a usual day looks like, and mention the types of people you usually engage with. But you share how you’ve felt lost in the chaos of everything and that you’ve been trying to find purpose in it but have been unable to. 

Namjoon purses his lips, attempting to hide a smile, but you call him out on it.

“I’m just trying not to get too excited,” he reasons, giving in and chuckling now. “We need organization, a sense of urgency, a kind of professionalism that someone of your caliber could bring. I don’t want to get my hopes up and yes, there’s a process, but I hope you give us a chance.”

It’s easy to think that this man has no idea what he’s saying, but he’s been talking about going with his gut feeling all morning - he’s said as much that following his heart and doing what feels right for him allowed him to turn the company into what it is right now. Maybe meeting the first time was just a coincidence, but the pull of the universe - of you to this environment and him to you - is just too strong that you can’t help but think that maybe this is the next step for you. For all the challenges you went through all these years, maybe you deserve something a little more smooth sailing this time. 

You don’t make any promises but you do assure him that you’ll send him an email. There are obviously other pressing matters that you have to deal with but this has been a good distraction, one that you allow to preoccupy you for the rest of the day. 

After saying goodbye, you walk around the neighborhood and spend the afternoon by the river where you wonder about the people surrounding you. 

What dilemmas are they facing? What heartbreaks are they trying to move on from? What new adventure are they preparing for? Or maybe, who are they trying to forget? Who’s waiting at home for them? Are they watching the sunset because they know it’s beautiful or because they’ve forgotten that it is? 

You let out a breath once the sun has dipped and the sky has turned a dark shade of blue. You feel a mix of awe at its beauty and disappointment because the day has come to an end. You once more have to face the person you’ve been trying not to think about all weekend.

Giving yourself a pep talk, you go to bed that night with the plan of continuing what you did last Friday, which is avoiding any moments and any chances of talking about what happened. If Jungkook brings it up, then you’ll just have to face it and ask him to forget about that night and then deal with the consequences after. But there’s no way that you’ll say anything first; you’ll ride this out for as long as you can.

Avoiding talking to Jungkook about non-work matters - which is really what you only intended to do - is much more difficult when you have to pretend you don’t care about him. 

That Monday morning, you stop yourself from asking how he’s doing after spotting the empty whiskey bottle and beer cans in his kitchen bin. While you give him the usual hangover remedy, you stop short of suggesting that he get some rest or buying him his favorite lunch dish. 

During the meeting that you accompany him to in the afternoon, you watch him helplessly as his father hounds him with questions about the other projects, adding even more pressure than what he’s currently under, and you look away when he tries to meet your eyes. You used to send him encouragement through your gentle nods and soft smiles but you’re scared you’ll fall into your feelings once again if you do them, knowing that any sign of him needing you is all it would take for you to give in and talk to him, maybe comfort him. 

You’ve become so weak for him, you realize that now. His detachment used to put you off and frustrate you, but knowing him the way you do, it’s what makes you want to be there for him; it’s what makes you want to assure him that you’re just there. 

But you aren’t, because you’re pushing him away. You’re making him go through his confusion and stress and exhaustion all on his own because you’re a coward, too. You’re scared of your own feelings. You’re scared of them being rejected and you’re scared of them being returned. You didn’t realize just how much you are because you never actually felt something this deeply for anyone, and that terrifies you even more. 

Watching him from your desk as he pores through documents on his laptop is hard, too. You’re done for the day but he’s said earlier that he’ll be staying late to finish a few things because there are many distractions at his place. You want to tell him they can wait, that he’ll need to rest and regain his energy for the week ahead, or that some fresh air could help clear his mind. 

But you don’t. Instead, you pack your things and head out, knowing that much as it’s your decision to force this distance between both of you, it’s still something you wish you didn’t have to do. You don’t know how long you can sustain it, but somehow you know that once he gives in, so will you, and so all this might as well just be useless or even worse for you. 

Mr. Ri picks up on the change the next morning, as he asks if you and Jungkook had an argument on the way to his penthouse. 

“There was no argument, ” you answer. “There’s just a lot on my mind and he’s a big part of that. I just… I just don't know how to deal with things, you know?”

“Things like what?” Mr. Ri asks. 

“Feelings,” you sigh. “I mean, you said they can’t be helped. And you’re right, I can’t. That’s my big problem right now.”

“Oh, ___,” he says, softly smiling through the rear view mirror. 

You can tell he’s trying to comfort you, something he’s told you before he’s unsure how to do. You brush him off, saying you’ll figure it out, and he assures you that you could talk to him and that maybe, you need to just let it out to someone who knows what you’re battling against. You express your appreciation then inhale deeply once you arrive at Jungkook’s building. 

The clanking sound of plates surprises you when you enter the penthouse. You walk cautiously towards the kitchen and find Jungkook already dressed in his work attire, placing the basket of toasted bread in the middle of the dining table where you spot the two plates with eggs in each. You wonder if you’re late, given that he’d gone ahead and made breakfast for both of you already. 

“You’re on time,” he says after seeing you check your watch. “I was just up early. I couldn’t really sleep. I think I have too much on my mind.”

“I still could have made this for you,” you say so softly, Jungkook almost misses it.

“I didn’t mind,” he answers, wanting to say more, like that he thought it would be nice to make something for you for a change, or that he hopes you could see the effort.

But he keeps them to himself, just like the many other things that he doesn’t feel ready to verbalize. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since Thursday night, and he thinks that the distance you’re creating has made his desire even stronger, but so has the fear. 

He spent the weekend downing alcohol and then boxing for hours to get rid of the hangover. The lemon ginger tea he made didn’t really work. He placed the bandage on his beat-up knuckles incorrectly, not like how perfectly you’d done it once. And the chicken noodle soup he ordered when he wasn’t feeling well last night didn’t taste as good as yours. 

His mornings aren’t the same without the briefest touch from you from fixing his tie, or from the casual conversations during breakfast or in the car. There’s not much of your voice or your laughter that he hears, and definitely none of your smile that always encouraged him, that always assured him. This continues for the rest of the day, as he barely feels your presence unless he asks for it. And even then, it almost feels like you’re not there at all. 

He feels so lost without you, unable to focus and function properly without your guidance and your care. He doesn’t know how or when he’s allowed himself to need you this much but it all feels so new yet familiar. All he wants is to be near you again but he admits that seeing you consistently pull away hurts him more than anything. 

It’s why that Wednesday, he settles for only minimal glances at you in the car, why he conducts his morning meeting in a cafe instead, why he has the blinds on in his room all afternoon, and why he stays to work late and informs you that he’ll go straight to the Arts Center the next day so he’ll just meet you in the office.

He does all those so he’s forced to be around you less, so he doesn’t look up from his desk to find out that you don’t look his way anymore, so that it’s less difficult when you don’t do your usual routine with him. He at least won’t feel as bad when you don’t ask how he’s feeling if you don’t see him look terrible in the morning after not being able to sleep, or when you don’t fix his necktie for the fifth time this past week if he’s not around you in the first place. 

You’ve been going out of your way to avoid him and if he had a bit more courage, he’d probably be able to ask what Thursday night was about and if you’d really wanted to kiss him like he did. 

But he’s afraid of two things - that you’d ask him to forget all of it, or that you’d both have to figure out how to move forward if the feelings are indeed mutual. There are so many things that could go wrong but just as many that could go right - he’s scared to hurt you either way. And like he’s always said, he doesn’t know how to handle all of this; he doesn’t know how to talk about what he feels.

Thursday morning comes and while you’re relieved that you don’t have to tiptoe around Jungkook again in his own apartment and feel suffocated by the tension, you won’t lie and say that you deeply felt his absence. You also won’t deny that seeing him walk towards his office without sparing you a glance hurt you a little. You know him enough that he’s probably giving you the space that you’ve insisted on, but still, a part of you wonders if he’s just accepted it, too. 

And when you hand him his notes for his late afternoon meeting then when he leaves for the CEO’s office without a look of acknowledgment, you worry that he’s become impatient, that he’ll keep pulling away for as long as you are, and that you’ll be so far apart that you’ll start to wonder if you’d come close to him at all. 

But you did this, you remind yourself. You’d been the one to get close, to expect, and then to detach because you were so afraid of what would happen next, and what that would mean for you. He’s probably the last thread you’re holding onto, connecting you to this world that you’ve been planning on leaving for so long. Maybe you’re also scared that if he asked you to stay, you would, and the last thing you want is for him to be the reason why you can’t let go, and then resent him for it. 

You sigh in your seat as the various thoughts plague your mind. You decide to go to the pantry for a cup of tea, knowing you have some time before Jungkook’s meeting with his father is scheduled to end. 

The support team’s office is unnervingly quiet at 7PM with only Mr. Ri around, shaking his leg against the chair while browsing on his desktop. He greets you when you enter and then joins you to make his cup of coffee - his fourth for the day, he says - before you both head out the pantry and sit by the meeting table. 

There aren’t any words said as you both blow away the steam from your respective hot drinks, merely letting the tranquility of the evening envelop the two of you. A few minutes pass and Mr. Ri finally looks up and asks why you’re still here, to which you reply that you wanted to be around when Jungkook’s meeting finishes in case he needs you to do something.

“There’s no need to drop me home,” you tell him. “I can manage on my own.”

“You know Jungkook won’t like that,” Mr. Ri responds. “He has strict instructions to drive for you whenever you stay out late. I can’t and won’t disobey those orders.”

You know this, which is why you sit in silence with your hands on your lap as if you’re being scolded, and you nod. 

“Okay,” you say softly.  

“He’s worried, you know?” Mr. Ri says after a while. “He’s been asking me how you’re doing, as if you’re not at the point in your relationship where he can directly talk to you. But I’ve actually been worried about him this past week. He stays up late to work, then goes home to work out. He’s not himself lately, always out of it and just… sad.”

“Did he… did he say anything else? About us, specifically?”

“He didn’t tell me if anything happened but I’m guessing something did, something serious enough that you’d avoid him for days and personal enough that he won’t confront you about it.”

Your face falls, guilt painting it, something Mr. Ri picks up.

“It’s about your feelings, isn’t it?” He asks. “You like him and you can no longer deny it.”

You nod in confirmation, unable to verbalize the words that your heart has been screaming for weeks. 

“Is it so hard to admit? Is it so hard to talk about?” The older man asks. “I mean, he doesn’t tell me anything but I’ve known that man his whole life, ___. I’ll bet a lot and say that he feels the same way about you. Why are you both putting all your effort into avoiding each other instead of talking it out?”

“Because you know us, Mr. Ri. We’re the worst at these things,” you shake your head, choosing to disregard his statement that Jungkook may be reciprocating the feelings, knowing you’re not ready to think about it. “And you know this, too. It’s not just about what I feel. It’s about who he is and who I am and what those imply. It’s this complicated situation that I wouldn’t even be in if I just… if I was just strong enough to leave the first time. Or the second time.”

“Hey, you know it wasn’t about that,” he says. “You were always strong. You held on even when things were difficult—”

“Yeah, I just held on and now I’m here, caught in between liking my boss and wanting to stay away from him, from his family,” you groan in frustration. 

But you utter the thoughts that you only rarely entertain, only because they’re what held you back all those years ago.

“Am I being selfish, for wanting to leave after everything?” You ask. “They’ve been so good to me. And now that I crossed the line and fell for their son, I want to let everything go.”

“Is that really why you want to resign? Because you like Jungkook?”

“No… it isn’t just about that,” you sigh. “Or it is. A big part of it, but also not. I… you know I’ve been thinking about this since the whole thing with Mrs. Byun happened, and that was six years ago. But then CEO Jeon asked me to help Hoseok and I stayed. And it was even more important for him that I be there for Jungkook. And I am but now what? How can I continue knowing that I like him? And how can I find myself and learn who I am outside of this when I’m here, when this is all I’ve ever known and all I’ve ever given myself to? They’ll always be good to me. I feel selfish by staying, but I also feel that way if I leave.”

“None of that makes you selfish, ___. You always had a reason to leave and you could have, but there was also always gonna be a reason for you to stay,” he says. “But they were their reasons, not yours. Whether you stay despite what you feel for Jungkook or leave to find yourself and seek the happiness you deserve, you’re not being selfish.”

You look at the man whom you’ve known for years and he sees in your eyes a woman who’s just asking for any kind of comfort, of any kind of assurance because no else is around to do that.

“We do what we can at every moment, and we can live with our choices if we know they’re the best one we can make at that time,” he continues. “Whatever it is you decide to do, I hope you do it for you. You’re the only person you have to look out for.”

Right outside the door, Jungkook remains unmoving as he processes everything he’d heard, while you continue to talk inside, completely oblivious to how you’ve rendered him paralyzed. 

Jungkook’s meeting with his father ended much sooner than he expected. They merely discussed some happenings with the Board and the lunch that they’ll be hosting on Saturday to welcome some of their family’s long-time friends who are flying in from Europe. 

He headed to the support office immediately to tell Mr. Ri that he plans to go home soon but hadn’t known you were there as well. But then again, you and their trusted aide - who’s been his father’s chauffeur, bodyguard, and personal assistant for decades - spend a lot of time together, so it didn’t feel off to Jungkook that you’d both be talking. He’s asked the older man to look out for you, too, especially with regards to things that he feels isn’t really his place. 

Jungkook didn’t hear much at first, initially deciding to just walk back to his office and call, but once he heard Mr. Ri asking you about resigning, he stopped in his tracks. He felt foolish to be listening in on a conversation he’s not a part of, especially since it’s also because of him.

It should’ve delighted him to hear you say that you like him. Jungkook could’ve only dreamt up that reality and it still feels surreal. You didn’t have a reason to lie and the fact that he isn’t the only one seemingly overwhelmed by his own feelings should be a good thing. 

But that also seems to be your reason for wanting to leave, and the thought breaks his heart in ways he can’t explain. You’ve apparently been planning on leaving for years but never got around to do so. If you stayed when his father asked you to, would you do the same if he asked? And he believes that up until last week, your relationship had become the most comfortable it’s ever been. You seem happy here, but why did it also seem like you just wanted to get away? 

The thoughts make his head hurt, and while a part of him wishes he hadn’t heard anything, he at least knows you plan on leaving. And that’s something he absolutely cannot bear.

The sounds of the chairs being fixed disrupt his thoughts. When he hears Mr. Ri suggest that you should start packing up, Jungkook quietly walks back to his office and nonchalantly calls the older man to inform him that he plans on staying up late and that he should drop you home already. If Mr. Ri notices the odd tone of his voice, he doesn’t say anything. He merely expresses his confirmation and not long after, Jungkook hears some shuffling outside his closed door.

“Is there anything you need from me before I leave, Mr. Jeon?” You call out, the walls in between both of you feeling higher and thicker than ever before.

He knows that you know that he no longer asks you to do anything at this hour, and he comforts himself by thinking that it’s your way of letting him know that you’re still there. But the thought is short-lived, as he once again plays the conversation he’d overheard in his mind.

“There’s none,” he says pointedly. “You may leave.”

It takes a while but he eventually hears you walk out. Jungkook feels himself breathe for the first time in the last 15 minutes, before he feels suffocated once again. 

Maybe pulling away last week when he’d been so close gave you the idea that he didn’t want you at all, and maybe that had affected you more than he expected. Maybe him, creating more distance that you’d initiated, made you think that that’s what he wanted after all that. Perhaps his being a coward in facing his own feelings had pushed you away, too, and if you’re scared of what you feel for him, maybe letting you know that he feels the same way is what will make you stay. He could be the happiness you’re searching for, Jungkook convinces himself. He could be what you want and need.

And he already knows that you’re all that for him. Whatever rules he created for himself and the limits he imposed are all pointless if he doesn’t have you around at the end of it. If his life after all this doesn’t have you in it, there’s no happiness for him. A new job for you could take you anywhere, maybe far away from where he is; it could lead you to someone, someone who isn’t him.

He hates that an overheard conversation about you resigning is what will take for him to finally be honest about what he feels for you. And that potentially losing you by his side is the push he needs to let you know that he wants you, that he wants everything with you, and that he hopes you want the same. 

It’s 9:30 PM by the time he enters the car, his head hazy from the two glasses of whiskey he had. Mr. Ri calls him out on another night of him drinking in the office and orders him to get straight to bed like he’d done a few times before when Jungkook had been too stressed and too stubborn to rest. He merely nods though but he follows through, skipping dinner then mindlessly taking a shower before falling asleep in bed after finishing a bottle of beer.

The ringing of the alarm causes Jungkook to grunt and turn off his phone for the peace and quiet that he needs, given the throbbing of his head. But in the silence, he hears the soft knocks on his door, so consistent that he decides to just open it and ask the person on the other side to stop.

But of course, it’s you, and the way you quickly turn your head away reminds him that he’s got nothing but his sweatpants on and he’s too sleepy for anything else to register.

“It’s 7AM, Mr. Jeon. You have an executive meeting at 8,” you tell him, voice so soft and so far away. 

“Fuck,” he groans, rubbing his temples to massage the pain away. “I’ll just take a shower. Don’t make breakfast anymore. We leave in 20 minutes.”

“Noted, sir,” you say, then walk back towards the kitchen.

It’s 15 minutes later when his bedroom door opens and he nervously walks over to you. Unable to still remove the image of his half-naked form in your mind, you focus your gaze elsewhere, but he forces it on him when he asks you to fix his necktie, the first time he’d ever done so.

“I was rushing,” he explains. 

You nod and head to him, hating how your hands slightly shake at feeling so close to him again. You can feel his breath as you watch the rise and fall of his chest. He probably feels as anxious as you, perhaps no longer used to this routine after you stopped it days ago. But you manage without sparing him a glance, keeping your distance and your eyes focused on anything else but him from the walk down to the car and throughout the ride to work. 

It’s difficult for you to look at him, not only because you’re ashamed but because you’re afraid of what you’ll see. Maybe his eyes will tell of his acceptance of this new dynamic. Maybe they’ll reflect anger and frustration at how you’ve disrupted his routine. Or maybe they’ll show sadness - which is what you’re most terrified of - because that’s your weakness. Any time he looks like he needs comfort or he needs you, you know you’d give in, you know you’d want to be there even if you’ve spent the past week staying as far away as possible. 

You know you don’t have much time left here. The Arts Center opens over a month from now and you’ve decided to tender your resignation soon after. You know you should be savoring whatever moments you have with him and perhaps that’s what saddens you the most because you don’t know what will come after. 

Your happiness isn’t here, and staying to find out if it’s with him isn’t worth it, not when there’s baggage you carry; not when your own past and insecurities weigh you down.

Arriving in the office, you rush to your desk then walk to his room to give him the notes he needs for the meeting. You turn towards him slowly when he calls you, your name in his voice suddenly sounding foreign.

“Can you prepare me lemon ginger tea? Please?” 

His voice is soft, as if he feels burdensome for making such a request. You want to give in so badly and ask how he’s feeling. But you stop yourself. It’s not the place nor time.

You accompany his tea with pastries, your own request for him to have breakfast, and you get your own, in response to him instructing you to do so. You see from your periphery that he’s trying to catch your attention as the meeting starts, but with this, you hold back. You don’t want to see what you now know would be sadness in his eyes.

Jungkook has entered the deepest nook of your heart, you realize. You don’t know how you let him get there, and you don’t know how to push him out. 

“Another night of drinking, huh?” Hoseok’s unusually somber voice disrupts Jungkook’s thoughts as he zones out during lunch. “The Arts Center getting you that stressed and anxious?”

Jungkook looks at his cousin questioningly.

“I know how you look when you’re tired and this isn’t it,” Hoseok responds. “You’re hungover.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook huffs, not wanting to get into this with a man who would know when he’s lying.

“You should be, Kook. There’s a lot going on these next few weeks and we need you at your best. Your team has worked so hard for the Arts Center,” Hoseok reminds him. “So trust them. And don’t let them down.”

As always, his words hit Jungkook where they should. Whatever’s going on in his personal life - even if it involves you, his assistant - he has to be professional first, and that means making sure that everything is ready for the launch in six weeks. There’s a lot he has to meet and prepare for, and he doesn’t know how you’re able to do it. You may be distancing yourself from him but you’re still able to focus and carry out your tasks accordingly. You’ll be fine without him, he thinks. But if you’ll go on thinking that he doesn’t feel the same way about you, he knows he’ll regret it. He knows he’ll regret it even more if he doesn’t ask you to stay. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Jungkook assures his cousin. “I’ve been out of it but I’ll get my shit together.”

“Good. I don’t have to remind you that there’s a lot riding on this. But ___ is there to help. I’m here, too. You’ve got people who believe in you, okay?” Hoseok smiles, a slice of comfort that Jungkook didn’t know he needed. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Jungkook nods and heads back to his office after a full morning has passed, tricking himself into thinking that things will indeed be okay. He just needs to find the courage to face you, finally talk to you, ask you about that night, and tell you what he feels.

But even getting you alone proves to be difficult, as you have your own lunch plans that he didn’t want to interfere with, and your own deadlines that he set that he knows you’ll make sure to meet.

Jungkook gets caught up in the afternoon in another meeting with some of the Board members who came to visit. Biting his lip in frustration, he manages to not lose his mind as he sits through it, merely hoping to the heavens that you haven’t left yet despite the late hour. 

He speed walks down the hallway once he gets to his floor and almost panics when he sees your work space empty. But he spots your unfinished cup of coffee and he knows you won’t leave without cleaning up. He briefly sighs in relief when he hears shuffling from inside his room, walking closer to find you standing by his desk, with your back facing the door. You place a folder on his tray for signatures and a bound manual for review, then turn around and jerk in surprise when you see him standing there.

“I didn’t know your meeting had ended, sir,” you say, the formality grating his ears. All he wants is to hear you speak to him casually again, for you to call him by his name once more.

“It just did,” he hums. “I didn’t know if you were still here. I wanted to see you before you could leave.”

His words catch you off-guard but you try to look unaffected. 

“Is there anything else you need me to do, sir?” You ask, knowing that he’s past giving you work at this hour on a Friday, but you’re too nervous to think of what else he needs you for.

“No. I…” he stutters. “You, uh, you’ve been avoiding me,” he manages to say, his eyes pleading for you to look at him. 

But still, you don’t.

“I’m with you everyday, Mr. Jeon,” you insist, your tone cold. “I can’t possibly be avoiding you.”

“You haven’t looked at me all week.”

As if in reflex, you glance at him, then shift your eyes on the couch to your left.

“That doesn’t count,” he says, his voice oozing in desperation for you to just spare him some time, something you’ve never heard before.

So you give in, as you slowly meet his eyes, and you’re reminded why you didn’t want to do it in the first place. They’re so sullen. Tired, it seems, but just lacking in light. They were always so expressive, even when they’re angry, and even more when they’re sad. 

“I just…” you start, knowing that with all that’s happened and with all the stress and pressure he has to endure, you can’t be another one in his list to have to try to figure out. You at least owe it to him to be honest.

You look at the door, suddenly conscious of who might wander in your area, and Jungkook takes your cue, closing it once you nod. 

“So, why have you been avoiding me?” He asks again, his voice gaining a bit of life now that you’ve given him a chance to talk.

“I was just ashamed,” you admit, looking away as the scene from last week plays in your mind again. “I said things I shouldn’t have and they made you uncomfortable and—”

“How do you know that?” He interjects.

“Because you pulled away!” You say too loudly, lowering your head in embarrassment at the clear frustration you’re expressing. “I thought you wanted to… uh…”

“Kiss you,” he finishes, earning him the slightest of nods from you. 

“But you didn’t and I just felt so embarrassed,” you say, your lips quivering now at how much you’re saying, at how much you’re baring yourself to him, unsure if he’ll do the same. “That was completely out of line.”

“You weren’t wrong though,” he almost whispers as he slowly walks towards you. “About what I wanted to do. You seemed to want that, too, but we were out there and I… I was scared that if I’d done anything you weren’t ready for, then I’d push you away. I still did anyway. Because you’ve spent the entire week avoiding me, talking to me formally, not fixing my tie…”

You stop the giggle that you almost let out, but you can’t help your tiny smile as he whines about what you’ve been purposely doing. 

“I just didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to face you after that,” you explain, knowing there’s so much more to say but that you’ll start with this. “But you avoided me, too,” you suddenly pout. 

“What did you expect me to do?” He exclaims. “You did it first! You know I’m not good with these things.”

“Neither am I.”

Jungkook controls himself from kissing the frown off your face and instead, he walks closer. He gets to appreciate you now as he shamelessly eyes your form, the pastel-colored long sleeved blouse tucked inside your white skirt making his heart race. 

He spots your shy smile as you try to turn away, and he steps closer, wanting to see more. 

“You still aren’t gonna look at me?” He asks, the soft desperation in his voice prompting you to be bold again.

“I can’t. I might lose my mind,” you admit, groaning right after at your own honesty. 

“I’d quite like that,” he hums. “I… I was actually losing my mind all week. It didn’t feel right to have you feel so far away. I wanted to fix things but I didn’t know how.”

“That makes both of us,” you sigh, allowing yourself to finally gaze at him in his black suit, the classic look taking your breath away every time. “But I guess it’s the same with me. I didn’t know how badly I wanted you close until you weren’t anymore.”

You hesitatingly reach out your hand, an attempt to let him know that close is what you want him to be, but also to see for yourself if this is real, if he really is just breaths away from you, and if he could be even closer.

“I’m not pulling away this time,” he assures you, his boyish smile sending your mind in a frenzy.

Your fingers graze his chest, the way it quickly rises and falls telling you that his heart is probably racing as fast as yours. You fiddle with the neck of his tie before pulling it to bring him closer. He follows your lead, stepping forward and meeting your eyes, seeming like he doesn’t want his off of you. 

“So uh, are you losing your mind now?” He whispers teasingly. 

The way he utters the words with such yearning is a contrast to the shy look on his face. It’s a side of him you’re not ready for, but it’s one you’re thoroughly enjoying. It’s also pushing you to be even more shameless, as you nod and take his hand this time, placing it on your waist so you could feel his touch again. He’s gentle, trailing his fingers up and down your sides. 

“I am,” you manage to say, and you wish he could tell by the way you’re panting that his effect on you is way beyond your control now, and that it’s something you want to embrace. You mirror his smile, soft and warm yet full of desire.

He makes his move, placing his hand on your cheek as he eliminates whatever distance is left. And he stands there, just one breath away. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about that night, wishing I’d done things differently,” he heaves, his eyes flitting to your lips constantly, “wishing I had been brave enough to do what I’ve been wanting to do for so long.”

You lick your lips in tandem with his, and once you feel him thumb your cheek, it’s all over for you. With a whisper of his name, you hold your breath, and the next thing you feel is his mouth on yours. 

He kisses you deeply, expressing just how much he’s been wanting to do this. You smile as you return his desire, suddenly feeling like you’re floating, as if he’s some dream that you’re able to reach, like he’s that beautiful thing that’s tangible, that you can touch, that you can taste.

You moan once his tongue gains entrance, entangling with yours and dominating you immediately until he’s all you can breathe in. He cups your face, directing it where he wants, while his one hand trails down your back to knead your ass, as if to keep himself steady as he loses himself in you. Your breathing quickens even more as the pleasure rises, and with your fingers palming his chest and gripping his collar, he pushes you against his table. 

He cages you and keeps you in place while he devours your lips, and you feel him all over you just as you wanted. You’re hypnotized by his scent, by his warm breath, and by the large hands that now grip your waist and lift you to sit on the edge of his desk. 

Your mind is hazy, high on the drug that is his kiss, lust-filled and passionate and relentless. You yearn for him even more the longer you taste him, feel him, and there’s no part of you that wants this to end. Your moans push him to kiss you harder, leaving you a whimpering mess and with a mind that's truly unable to think a single thought outside of this trance-like feeling. His arms now wrap around you, and his hands, seemingly desperate to touch every part of you that he can, trail up and down your back, as if to caress you, as if to say that he won’t stop, that he won’t let you go.

Finally needing air, he removes his lips from yours only to travel to the most sensitive parts of you - on the shell of your ear that his tongue grazes repeatedly, and on your neck that he licks and sucks vigorously. You feel the chills all over your body, and you grind against him to try to satiate that growing need of yours, as you start to feel the dampness in your underwear. His hardening length makes you want everything he can give you, rules and boundaries be damned. 

This isn’t like you but you’ve never felt this much pleasure and desire in all your life. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the ecstasy that kissing and feeling him would give. You feel his desperation and desire for you, as he grunts and moans your name, aching to feel more, to do more. You want to live in this moment, and then live it everyday, just take him in and take everything and give him everything. 

But you should’ve known that some things are too good to be true. And much as you hope and imagine for things to turn out a certain way in belief that you deserve good things in this world, they don’t. Those don’t happen to people like you. There’s always something underneath it all, as the fantasy shatters like a glass ceiling breaking at his words.

“Stay, ___. Don’t leave,” he hums against you, the tip of his nose gliding against your neck as he takes in your scent. “Please don’t resign. I can’t… I—”

You feel frozen as you process what he’s said. “Wha-what?” You manage to ask, your mind slowly waking up now. 

His lips take a pause at devouring your skin and he faces you, his chest heaving and his eyes glassy and pleading as he repeats his words.

“Don’t leave, ___. Don’t resign. Stay with me. I need you next to me.” 

“Where is this coming from?” You demand, your heart racing now for a different reason, your anxiety building at how he could’ve known of your plans. You pull away to get a better look at him, with guilt now painting his eyes.

“I… I overheard you and Mr. Ri talking last night,” he admits shamefully. “I didn’t mean to. I was going to just walk away but you talked about leaving and what you feel about me and I just… I froze. I don’t want you to go anywhere, ___. I need you here.”

The silence drags on as you let his words settle, words you thought you wanted to hear. But not like this, you realize. This isn’t how you imagined he’d tell you he wants to be with you. 

He attempts to cup your cheek again but you pull yourself back, the rejection breaking him this time.

“You knew I wanted to kiss you last week,” you start, your voice shaking as the pieces fit together. “You knew yet you pulled away. You let a whole week pass with this distance, with no attempt from you to talk to me about it, or to even tell me what you feel but then you learn last night, after listening to a conversation you had no part in, that I like you. And tonight, you kiss me because suddenly you need me? Because you want me to stay next to you?”

“I—” Jungkook starts, unable to say anything as you put it the way you do. 

He’s wanted you for so long and always had reasons to keep his distance. He tried to gain the courage to talk to you this week, even as you avoided him, but he didn’t. There was just so much fear, so much worry about what he should do, about you asking him to forget about it, about possibly pushing you away even more. He didn’t intend for things to happen this way but for you to think that he’s only doing this in an attempt to keep you from resigning is all kinds of wrong, even if in hindsight, that’s exactly what it looks like. He could’ve said something earlier, he could’ve told you what he felt, and he would’ve been brave enough if he really wanted to. 

“You knew how I felt and you kissed me so I’d stay,” you repeat. “You hate change and me leaving will change everything for you and this… this is how you make sure I don’t.”

Stepping down from the desk, you realize how much you’d lost yourself in him, with your skirt bunched up and your blouse all creased. You fix yourself, suddenly ashamed, and suddenly unsure where you stand. It took so much of you to admit what you felt for him and now it seems that he hadn’t been into you the way that you thought. 

You want him with you, but he wants you here, that’s the difference. 

“I… want you,” Jungkook says, the words suddenly hard for him to say, as he gets choked up at the distance you’re creating. “I guess I always have. I just couldn’t do anything because I had to be professional and there were boundaries I couldn’t cross. But I couldn’t help it. Those don’t matter to me anymore. Only you do.” 

His pleading eyes ask you to believe him, to understand him this time. But your silence and the way you look at him in disappointment tell him it’s not something you’re able to do. 

“I never thought you’d feel the same way,” he continues. “And now I know that you do and that just means we can figure it out, right? Staying means we get to be together everyday. We… we get to have this everyday. Don’t you… don’t you want that?”

This is when you realize that much as you want to believe in his sincerity, it’s hard when he thinks of you as a necessity. You make his life easier. You’re his assistant, after all. And that makes you unsure if he only wants you because he needs you, or if they’re just the same thing to him. 

He didn’t even ask you why you wanted to leave. Maybe that should tell you enough.

“___, please. I just want to be with you.”

It’s also at this moment when you realize just how much you’ve fallen for him. You’d feared that if he asked you to stay, you would, and that means putting another person’s needs ahead of yours again, just like what you’ve done all these years. Staying would mean that you’d be unable to find yourself outside of all this, and you’ve given up too much not to choose your own happiness this time, even if it means saying goodbye to the person who also makes you happy.

Finding what little strength you have in you, you turn to him. “I don’t want to stay, Jungkook,” you say, your heart breaking as you utter the words, even more when you ask him to forget about everything that happened tonight. “We can’t do this. I can’t do this with you. Not like this. I’m so sorry.”

With your smashed heart in your hands, you do the hard thing and walk out the door, leaving in your wake a man whose broken pieces that you’ve put together all shattered once again. 

Walking down the block to get to the bus stop feels like a marathon, as the street feels so long with the heavy burden you’re carrying weighing you down too much. But you manage to get there, only to decide that you’d much rather spend the ride home on your own. You turn to a street to hail a cab then realize once you get in one that it was the spot where Jungkook had seen you, drenched under the rain with a sprained ankle. 

He healed parts of you that night, with his quiet assurance that you didn’t have to go through your struggles on your own. You’d hold on to that thought months later, though you’re unsure about now - much as things hurt at this moment, all you want is to be alone.

You get off two stops early and mindlessly walk towards the convenience store, thinking that some snacks for dinner would do. You don’t really feel like eating but your body’s needs are greater than your own desire to eat. Walking down the aisles, you decide you’re only good for some cup noodles tonight. You don’t even deserve boiled eggs that you suddenly craved, nor honey chips, and you definitely don’t deserve dessert after what you allowed to happen earlier. 

You stop your movements once you realize you’re sitting on the same spot where you and Jungkook had eaten when he drove you home that night he took you to the park. It had been a terrible evening after that incident with your ex, but Jungkook was the protective one who helped shoulder all the anger that you were too exhausted to feel. He was a reliable and comforting presence, familiar yet new with his warmth. During the occasional moments in the weekend after when your mind would go to that night, you’d think of Jungkook and how he made you feel safe.

It feels too much, so you take your noodles and finish them on the bench outside. You walk home after, letting the crisp evening air envelop you as your mind replays what happened. 

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to feel someone the way you wanted to feel him, but you suppose that’s why it hurts as much as it does. You wanted him to want you as much as you did, and you were perhaps foolish to think he’d have the same reasons as you. Maybe you were really just stupid for feeling anything in the first place, knowing your place in his world. You’re everything convenient and easy and familiar and despite the week of walking on eggshells around him, you gave in so quickly. He knew what to do when it came to you. 

And maybe that’s on you. You allowed yourself to feel so much for a man whose life is so intertwined with yours that it’s hard to know what’s real. Yet you know that despite all that, your desire for him is still too strong. It’s why you had to leave right away. 

Another moment of him pleading for you to not resign and you might’ve given in again. Another second of hearing him ask you to be with him and you would’ve believed him - that there was sincerity in all that, that he’d be with you regardless if you stayed in the company or not. Now you’re left with the thought that the convenience was what he wanted, that as he crossed the line, it was all or nothing for him. And that you’d be the weak one, willing to give up what else you could be outside of all this just for him. 

Perhaps you’re also asking for too much. He’s used to a life without much consequences to his actions. There’s a lot he doesn’t know, especially what you had to endure and give up to be here and what you want out of life now that you’re old enough to take control of it. Maybe for him, asking you to stay was that declaration and proof of his feelings; doing so took so much out of him already that thinking of what life would be like without being with you everyday was too hard of a reality to accept or work around. 

You’re too out of it that you don’t realize that you’ve been standing outside your door. You’re thankful for the weekend at least. You’ll spend half of it in bed, and the other half preparing yourself for how you’ll face him again, and how you’ll finally say goodbye. 

You enter and sigh at the warmth inside. Dropping your bag on the floor, you stand by your tiny dining table and take a bite off the apple you find in your fridge. You gaze at your shelf, the one filled with photos of your family and friends and a few more of different sceneries that you took using the disposable camera that Jungkook had gifted you for your birthday. It’s another reminder of how much a part of your life he’s become, how, of all the people in the world, he’d been the one to show you that capturing moments is a gift you shouldn’t take for granted. 

You often wondered what moments he liked to capture. He doesn’t have photos in his penthouse other than those of structures and buildings that are artistically taken. There are framed old blueprints and historical pieces but nothing of him and the people in his life. 

Maybe he doesn’t have good enough memories he wants to keep. For a short moment, you wished that the times he shared with you are ones he’d like to hold onto. But maybe the idea would hurt more - you’ll just be a memory like he would be to you. 

You always wanted to keep only good ones of him, but the sight of him rooted in his spot and in shock as you turned him down is far from something you want to remember. He’s something you didn’t know you wanted, but he stands between you and the life you’ve always wished for yourself - one where you get to decide, to be free, to be happy. 

He’ll let you go and forget all this, you think to yourself. You’ll be the one who walked away. And he’ll be the one who didn’t run after you.

Jungkook is stunned as he watches your retreating form. The sounds of your heels against the marble floor disappear as he remains unmoving from his spot in his room where he’d kissed you just moments earlier. You felt and tasted just like he imagined, and the moment his lips touched yours, he knew he’d want to keep kissing you over and over again. 

It was the first time in a long time that he allowed himself to be honest about how he felt, giddy emotions included. It felt freeing to be able to admit all of that to you after all these months of denying it and walking around eggshells when it came to you. He’d been sure, after last night, that you felt the same way, even more when he felt how your body reacted and how your heart raced, aching for him as much as his heart was yearning for you. 

You sounded hypnotizing, too. The way you’d moaned his name ignited something in him that none of the women he’d slept with had ever done before, and he knows it’s because he’d never felt anything genuine for them. They were good for the moment but he knew, especially the instance that he felt you close, that he wanted you for more than that. He wanted the soft touches and the gentle whispers, the longing looks and the intertwined hands. He wanted more than he thought he would, but during his most vulnerable state, he uttered the words he’d been dying to say since last night when he learned of your plans.

He asked you to stay. He told you he needs you, that he wants to be with you.

They sounded like pleas and maybe that’s what they were. From the deepest and coldest nooks of his heart, he was pleading for you to not leave. He’d finally admitted what he’d been so scared to accept, but all his words did were hurt you. 

You insisted that all he cared about was the convenience of being together everyday, that you staying meant he’d get to keep all that was familiar. And he doesn’t know what would be taken away from you if you did. 

You wanted him, too, didn’t you? Wasn’t that enough? And wasn’t being with him all that mattered? 

Sure, there’d be complications, but those are things he knows you’d both be able to face, they’re things you can navigate around and figure out together because this isn't just a one-time, spur-of-the-moment type of thing. He wants all of you, everything with you, whatever it takes. 

He hadn’t realized it until that second he held you in his arms. And then again when you pulled away, looked at him with glassy eyes, and told him you couldn’t stay. 

He’d been too hurt to run after you. He didn’t know what to say then. How would he, when you’re the one who couldn’t commit to what you felt by staying around? He felt that betrayal, of that feeling of inadequacy, of his feelings for you not being enough. He bared his emotions to you after being so scared of doing so, and then you crushed his heart just like that, with his broken pieces that you’d just put together, scattered on the floor. 

This isn’t like him. It’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to feel so much for another person, to care for them, to want them in a way that scares him. But you showed him a life where it was possible to open himself up again, to find out what happiness could feel like this time, and in that same breath, you took it all away.

He’s not sure where to go from here. But he decides he’ll think about that tomorrow. Tonight, he just wants to forget. Tonight, he just wants to wallow in his sadness, erase the memory of your touch and the feel of your mouth against his, and let it all go. 

Jungkook instructs Mr. Ri to go home. He’ll drive himself, he insists. There’s just no one right now he wants to be around. 

He drinks a glass of whiskey for the road and manages to get home in one piece. He settles on the couch as he finishes another half bottle, then chugs down a few cans of beer after. The image of you gets blurry. His mouth numbs and he starts forgetting your taste on his lips, too. 

His head falls on the pillow and his hand mindlessly reaches out. There’s no heartbeat that he feels; he’s forgotten how fast yours was already. The sound of your laughter and then of your moans is replaced with a buzzing in his ear as his mind starts to fall away. 

The warmth of your body is gone but somehow he feels hot, so hot but he can’t get his clothes off. He struggles a little, his fingers aren’t doing their job so he gives up instead, curls into the corner of the couch, and for the briefest moment, he sees your smile so clearly. And then his mind drifts away completely, taking his confusion and yearning for you along with it. 

At least for now, there’s not much of you he remembers. But somewhere deep inside, he knows that’ll all change when he wakes up in the morning and searches for you, knowing you won’t be around to tell him that everything is gonna be okay.

Hoseok massages his temple as his sixth call to his cousin in the last half hour remains unanswered. 

“He’s still not picking up,” he groans, the unusual feeling of annoyance bubbling inside him at Jungkook’s irresponsibility.

It’s Saturday morning and some friends of their family flew from Europe last night for lunch at the Jeons’ estate. This gathering was scheduled in time for their grandfather’s death anniversary today, and it’s an event that Mr. Jeon was adamant that Jungkook and Hoseok attend as their respective families’ representatives and as heirs of the company. Those friends had been there when their grandfather built Jeon Corporation from the ground up, and welcoming them is a sign of respect for that friendship and for the memory of the man they’re celebrating today. 

Jungkook had informed Mr. Ri that he’ll be driving himself to the estate and promised to be there before 11 AM, as what his father had requested. It’s half past that and he’s still nowhere to be found. He hasn’t been picking up his phone and his friends claim they don’t know where he is. Knowing how important today is, Hoseok wanted to accompany Mr. Ri in going to the younger man’s apartment to pick him up and find out why he’s late. When the elder Jeon asks, which he will, Hoseok would at least have a reason to give. It just better be a good one.

They both arrive at the building and are informed that Jungkook’s cars are still in their respective slots. He’s not in any of the amenities and the guards report that they haven’t seen him since he arrived on his own last night. He may not be a fan of these types of events but Jungkook always shows up. He knows what today means for their family; if not for his father, then at least for his grandfather, a man he respected and looked up to. If, for some reason, he failed to wake up, then he must be in a bad condition, and Hoseok either has to scold his cousin, or cover for him.

With no one answering the door, Mr. Ri uses his access and enters. It’s dark and quiet inside, with the blinds all closed. When he and Hoseok find Jungkook passed out on the couch with an empty whiskey bottle and beer cans on the floor, it’s the same moment that Mr. Ri’s phone rings, and it’s your name that lights up the screen.

“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you groggily say. “I’m sorry I missed your calls. I had a late night and just woke up. Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure,” he sighs, as he watches Hoseok pull Jungkook from his cowering form in an attempt to get him to wake up.

“What do you mean?” You ask, standing from your bed now, suddenly awake. 

“I was calling to ask if you knew where Jungkook was. Their family gathering is today and he was supposed to be at his parents’ house 30 minutes ago but he wasn’t. He wasn’t picking up our calls either.”

“Oh, I… I don’t know where he is,” you say softly, the mention of his name reminding you of what transpired last night, the image of Jungkook’s dejected look appearing in your mind. You worry about him though, wondering what time he got home. “Have you found him? Is he okay?” 

“Hoseok and I are at his apartment and he’s passed out drunk,” Mr. Ri states, as Jungkook finally opens his eyes and mumbles some words that the older man has to walk closer to hear. “What happened last night, ___? Why is he calling your name? And why is he asking for you to come back?”

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that Jungkook had spent last night drinking his feelings away. You know enough from your time with him that it’s what he does when he’s stressed or mad or frustrated, and then he wakes up the next morning and hits the gym to deal with his hangover. There’s none of that today, apparently, and you stop yourself from instructing Mr. Ri to prepare him some lemon ginger tea. 

“What happened last night, ___?” He repeats. “Did you fight?”

“We…” you start, knowing that if there’s anyone who has to know about last night, it’s the man on the other end of the phone. “We, uh… we kissed. And then he asked me not to resign then I pulled away.”

Walking towards the kitchen to hand Hoseok a glass of water, Mr. Ri asks if you’d told Jungkook of your plans, stating that he hadn’t told him about it.

“He overheard us talking last Thursday,” you respond. “He knew what I felt about him, kissed me, then asked me to stay. He said he didn’t want me to go, that he wanted to be with me, and that we could be together everyday. It didn’t feel right,” you continue, your voice shaking now as you recall the conversation. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. We were supposed to talk about it. He wasn’t supposed to use my feelings against me like that.”

“Did you tell him why you’re planning on leaving?”

“No… He just went on about needing me to be with him and I… I couldn’t bear it,” you say, feeling the tears dance around your eyes. “You told me that I could always leave but even then, I’d always have a reason to stay but it would be their reason, not mine. I finally built the courage to decide on this because you know I need this. I don’t want him to be my reason this time. Or else I’ll never be able to let all of it go.”

“I know,” Mr. Ri sighs, knowing more than anyone what you mean. 

He’ll never be brave like you, but he understands that burden, that desire to just be free; he knows what it’s like to be held back even if it’s your own decision. Because at the end of the day, you’ll always think you have a debt to be paid. He knows he does, but he’ll always believe that you don’t. Surviving was always enough.

“But I think he has to know, ___,” he continues. “He wouldn’t let himself go through this kind of suffering if you don’t mean that much to him. You have to tell him the truth. And I mean everything. You owe it to yourself, too. I know he means a lot to you but you can’t move forward in any way, with or without him, if you’ll just keep him in the dark.”

You let Mr. Ri’s words settle. You told yourself the moment you entered the company that you won’t let your past define you, including your relationship with this family. You’ll work hard and everyone else will know you for that, and not for any other reason. You also knew that you’d spend every second of being here trying to prove to yourself that you’re capable, despite the irony that you were the one defining your time here based on your past that you just somehow couldn’t run away from. 

You weren’t supposed to feel anything for Jungkook. You could’ve gone on with your plan of resigning without feeling bad that you were leaving him behind. And even in that alternative reality where he’d ask you to stay, it would’ve been easy to say no. What makes this difficult is that you started to care. You got scared that if he asked you, you would stay. And now that he did, you have to be stronger than your desire to be with him.

Leaving would be hard, but staying would be much harder. 

You wish it was easy to make him understand. But you suppose without him knowing the truth, he wouldn’t be able to. 

So you give Mr. Ri permission. 

“I don’t know how to tell him,” you say. “You would. Make him understand. Maybe he’ll let me go. Maybe he’ll still come after me. And maybe he’ll forgive me, too.”

Mr. Ri hums and drops the call. He returns to the living room where Jungkook is now seated upright on the couch, downing his second glass of water and taking medicine to deal with the hangover. The blinds are now up, causing him to squint his eyes. At least he looks alive now. 

“That was ___,” Mr. Ri says. “She was wondering how you were.”

“Did you tell her I look terrible?”Jungkook asks bitterly.

“I did. She also told me what happened.”

“What… happened?” Hoseok wonders. “Did you have a big fight?”

Knowing he has no way out of this, Jungkook tells the truth. “We, uh, we kissed,” he answers, earning him a gasp from his cousin, who clarifies that while he’s not that surprised, he’s curious as to why both of you aren’t together right now.

“___ plans on resigning. He asked her not to,” Mr. Ri answers. “But you… you have to let her go, Jungkook. She needs to learn who she is and what she can do without anything holding her back.”

“If that’s her reason, then she has to know that she can keep learning who she is and what she can do here, with me,” Jungkook insists, slowly gaining clarity, as all the words he couldn’t say last night suddenly come out so easily. “There’s so much she can do. If what we feel for each other is the issue and that means she can’t directly work for me, then there are other departments where she’d fit well in. This isn’t just about convenience for me. I want to see her everyday but having her around means I get to make sure she’s taken care of, that she’s treated well.”

“And then what? She’ll feel indebted to you because of that?” Mr. Ri counters. “This is more than just developing her skills or building her career, Jungkook. This is about being someone outside of this company. It’s about doing something without feeling like she constantly has to prove that she deserves what she has.”

“And she does. Who does she have to prove anything to? We’re beyond that. Everyone knows she’s capable.”

“She has to prove it to herself. It may be hard for you to understand but she… she won’t get to accept all that she is until she’s ridden herself of the burden she carries. For as long as she works for your family, she’ll always feel it.”

The words feel a little too personal, Jungkook thinks, as Mr. Ri talks about your insecurities as if he’d seen you live them, and perhaps he has. The older man witnessed those first few turbulent weeks, and having known you since you started working here through the CEO, perhaps Mr. Ri had seen how your spirit broke a little because of Jungkook.

But still, something about the way Mr. Ri looks sullenly at him says that there’s more to what the older man had seen, as if he himself is pleading for Jungkook to let you go this way, as if the care runs deep and the words carry so much more emotion.

“She needs this, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri continues. “She’s planned on leaving a few times before but her gratitude towards your family always pulled her back. If you really care about her, you won’t let that happen this time. If you want to be with her, you’ll have to do it without her being here. Regardless of what she feels for you, she needs this more. You can let her go without really letting her go, you have to know that.”

It all feels too much and Jungkook’s mind is filled with so many questions. What do you owe his family? How does proving yourself have anything to do with leaving the company? How does he fit into all this? What do you need time away for? And how can he be with you at the end of it? Would you still want that, given that he didn’t even ask you why?

“How are you sure that’s what she needs?” Jungkook asks, curiosity getting the best of him.  

“I’ve known her for 20 years, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri sighs. “I know it’s what she believes.”

Jungkook may still be dealing with a hangover, but he knows his ears didn’t betray him. Twenty years, that’s how long you’ve known the man he trusts with his life, the man his father trusts with his family’s life. 

The tale is an open secret. Ri Byung-hun was a kid who grew up in the streets. He tried to steal from Jungkook’s grandfather, whose construction business then was slowly taking off. The elder man took pity on the young teen and sent him to school, and Byung-hun showed his gratitude by working for the family, eventually becoming Jungkook’s father’s chauffeur, bodyguard, and closest confidant all in one. The loyalty goes both ways, and it’s stood the test of time. 

Jungkook doesn’t know all the details but he knows enough. What he doesn’t know is who you are in Mr. Ri’s life, and why Jungkook hadn’t heard of you before. 

“How do you know ___?” Jungkook finally manages to ask. “Who is she to you?”

“I know ___ because of her mother. And over 20 years ago, Cho Hye-soo was your father’s assistant.”

“She— what?” 

Jungkook can’t hide his shock, and neither can Hoseok, who looks just as surprised about the truth as he is. His cousin would’ve been in his early teens at that time, and as it was when it came to their family’s children, training to become company heirs starts early, but they don’t get immersed until during their late teenage years. 

“I… I know Mrs. Cho,” Hoseok says. “I’ve met her several times but I… I never knew. They never said anything.”

“It wasn’t something they wanted people to know,” Mr. Ri explains. “Other than both of your parents, I’m the only other person who does. Too much time has passed for people to make the connection. It was just better that no one knew.” 

“What else did they not want people to know?” Jungkook asks. “What did ___ and her mom do? What… what do they owe our family?”

The elder man knew that at some point, Jungkook was going to have to learn the truth. He just didn’t think it would have to be under these conditions, and that he’d be the one telling the young man about how your lives are intertwined, that whatever pain you both carried growing up, those would always lead you back to each other. 

“Your father and Hye-soo were no different to how you and ___ are,” Mr. Ri starts. “He’d just been appointed President and he was under a lot of pressure - from your grandfather, the Board, the rest of your family… He was always stressed and it didn’t help that he was a perfectionist, just like you. That obviously affected your family, but it also affected those who worked for him, especially Hye-soo, who felt that she had a lot to prove.”

She didn’t have a Seoul education but she was smart and resourceful, incredibly hardworking and devoted, something you inherited from her, the elder man shares. The similarities are striking, and Jungkook braces himself, hoping that they end there. 

“She always had to work overtime, including weekends, and that took a lot of time away from being with ___. Hye-soo would leave her daughter in the library where her friend worked, and that seemed to be enough. But of course, it wasn’t easy, especially with a partner who lost his job and started drinking to cope.”

As Mr. Ri continues, Jungkook starts to fear something else, and so he asks. 

“Did… did he hurt them?”

“He yelled a lot,” Mr. Ri answers. “I’d hear it sometimes during breaks when she’s on the phone with him and it crushed me every time. Hye-soo wouldn’t say much, just that he was a good guy who just didn’t know how to deal with hardships. She never justified his actions until of course, that piece of shit started hitting her.”

Jungkook’s heart breaks at the words, unable to imagine growing up in a household like that - feeling afraid, unsafe, and unfree. 

“Hye-soo assured me that Kang-ho never hurt ___. She was good at that, at protecting her child. One time, she was called to work on a Saturday and that didn’t go well with him, but she… she always puts her daughter first, and that meant work would always be her priority because it’s what pays the bills and what sends her to school,” Mr. Ri narrates, his eyes growing more dejected by the second as he recalls those times. 

“She was rushing and couldn’t properly conceal the bruise on her face. She was worried that’s why she took ___ with her. Hye-soo kept crying as your father asked her what happened. She apologized for being late and for bringing her daughter to work, and she asked to stay in the office for the night until she figured out where they could go. I had never seen her break down like that,” he says, his voice shaking now. “And I won’t forget how scared ___ looked. She was just 10 years old then, clinging to her mother and not wanting to let her go. We were all strangers to her but somehow, she knew that we were there to protect them.”

The silence goes on, as both men take in Mr. Ri’s words, but it’s Hoseok who asks what happened after, and eventually, what got you here. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Jeon didn’t hesitate to help,” the older man shares. “They had Hye-soo and ___ stay at the staff house in their estate for a few nights until they got a new place to stay. I helped them get their stuff after Kang-ho figured out what was happening and ran.  The police had a warrant for his arrest but they couldn’t find him for days.” 

Turning to Jungkook, he adds, “your parents paid for all the legal and medical fees. Because Kang-ho knew they were helping, you all had to go away until he was found. Hye-soo and ___ went to Busan where he couldn’t trace them; your parents stayed in one of their houses in Gwangju while you and your brother were in Gwacheon.” Mr. Ri sighs at the memory as he recalls those days. “The reason why you were in that cabin was so they could protect you. I know you held a grudge against them for years because you thought they just left you there but they couldn’t stay with you, Jungkook. You were all in danger and they had to keep you and Jeong-sik safe.”

Jungkook looks back at that night when everything changed for him. Things already weren’t going well with his brother; the three-year gap and the way they were always compared kept them from getting along. His parents knew that, yet they still left him with Jeong-sik, who abandoned him in the woods when they played hide-and-seek. That’s where Jungkook was left alone, lost and scared under the rain, the thunder roaring as he yelled for someone to come. He’s always lived with that fear, always carried that memory of anger and blame within him that transformed into a habit of just pushing people away, of keeping them out because that was better to accept than the knowledge that people he trusted left him on his own. 

But there’s a reason, he learns now, one that his parents kept from him to protect you and your mother, too. It’s all too much, but he thinks now that maybe there’s a reason why you were so patient with him, why you didn’t judge him that night at the guest house, why you somehow understood what he was so scared of. He doesn’t know if you know that the night at the cabin had anything to do with what you and your mother went through, but regardless, maybe that’s why he always felt so strongly about you. The connection he was yearning for was always there, it’s tied to something, and he realizes it’s tied to your shared past.

“Did the police find the man?” Jungkook asks now, his headache somehow worsening from all the things he’s learning. But he just wants to know that you weren’t even more hurt, that there was a way that his parents kept you safe. 

“I did,” Mr. Ri responds. “I still had contact with people in the streets, and I left Gwacheon once I got a call that they knew where he was staying. I hunted him down and I handed him over… with a bloodied face and a few broken bones. They charged him for domestic violence and a few other crimes, including drug possession that would keep him in prison for years, long enough for Hye-soo and ___ to recover.”

“And what about you? Were you charged?” Jungkook wonders.

“No, I claimed self-defense and I—”

“But it wasn’t, was it?” Jungkook counters, knowing there’s more to what Mr. Ri is saying. 

“It wasn’t,” the old man admits, turning away as he says the words. “I could’ve done more but I… I couldn’t lose myself to the anger even if it was all I felt. I knew Hye-soo wouldn’t have forgiven me if I did.”

“You loved her, didn’t you?” Jungkook says, dawning on him now that everything Mr. Ri had done was so he could protect your mother and you. He realizes that all the times that the elder man looked out for you was because he was looking out for someone he truly cared about, someone who mattered the most to the person who mattered the most to him.

“I did,” Mr. Ri sighs. “I still do.”

Jungkook recalls the night during the team building and the elder man’s words, about the woman he’d loved for so long, and that moving on from her meant expending all that love to those he cares about, and now Jungkook knows that he was referring to you. 

“Did she know? And did she love you back?”

“She… she asked me to move to Busan with her and ___,” Mr. Ri answers, his eyes faraway as memories of that conversation come rushing back, how he’d wanted to just run away and build a life he never thought he could have with the woman he’d fallen so hard for, but how he had to make the hardest decision then, knowing it was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. 

“Why didn’t you?” Jungkook wonders. 

“I owe everything I have to your family, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri explains. “They gave me a second chance. Your grandfather got me off the streets, your father taught me everything I know, they… they had my records cleaned. They did it when I was a kid and they did it again when I was an adult. The only way I could ever pay them back was through my loyalty. I couldn’t leave, not after everything they’ve done for me.”

“But you loved her. She was your second chance,” Jungkook argues.

“And that love caused me to commit a crime I shouldn’t have. I was going to pay for it one way or another,” Mr. Ri responds. “That’s how I chose to do it, by letting her go, knowing that I’d be able to look after her and ___ better that way. Your father would protect me, and I would protect them. That’s… that’s how things go.”

It’s a tragic love story, Jungkook thinks. Two people who feel so much having to let each other go, their own pasts pushing them towards opposite directions. Decisions were made and that pulled them apart. He supposes that reciprocated feelings aren’t always enough.

“What happened after that?” Hoseok asks now, wanting to know as well how you and your mother managed, and if there’s any more danger that you face.

“They stayed in Busan for a few years. They only returned to Daegu after they learned that Kang-ho died in prison after acquiring some respiratory disease,” Mr. Ri replies. “Mr. and Mrs. Jeon helped with the move, too. They had me check on Hye-soo and ___ almost every month, just to make sure they were doing well. It was hard, of course. Hye-soo wasn’t earning the same as she was so she took another job just to keep ___ in a good school. Mr. Jeon knew that, so he kept offering to pay for her education but Hye-soo always turned him down. That continued until she got to college, and knowing that her mom won’t accept help again, ___ was the one who decided to take the offer. They paid for her tuition, and she eventually got an internship in the company. She took the job offer, too, and she’s just been working hard ever since, thinking that she has everything to prove.”

“Why does my father think he can buy people’s loyalty just like that?” Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. “It traps people… it gives them no option.”

“I know it may seem that way but your father knows how important loyalty is, and it’s something that he gives, too. He trusts me just as much I trust him,” Mr. Ri defends. “But when it comes to Hye-soo and ___, it isn’t about loyalty but guilt. He blames himself for what happened to them. Even if it was all Kang-ho’s fault, your father always believed that if he hadn’t been so demanding, things wouldn’t have escalated. It was all the overtime, all the unfair requests that took Hye-soo’s time from her partner, from her daughter. He carries that guilt with him and how he treated her. In a way, I think that was his wake-up call. Work stopped consuming him after. He became considerate of his staff, asking about their families and how they’re doing. He tried to make it up to you and your brother but that seemed to be the hardest thing for him; he didn’t know how to get your trust back.”

“But wasnt ___ choosing to work here about loyalty? She stayed every time he asked her to. She wouldn’t have if she felt indebted to our family,” Jungkook remarks, not wanting to delve into his own relationship with his father. 

“She wanted to repay them just so her mom would stop carrying that burden,” Mr. Ri says. “They were able to get away and build a new life where they were safe because of your parents and for ___, that always meant everything. She planned to work for them, but even a part of her felt that all the opportunities she was given was out of kindness. She always felt she didn’t deserve it but your parents also think they can’t ever make it up to her and her mother enough.”

At the silence, he continues. “People are complicated that way, I guess. We all have our own burdens to carry, our own past to deal with, our own actions to make peace with and accept. We make decisions based on what we think is best and just hope we don’t regret them in the future. But we also make them as a way to take control of our own lives. Even if I regret letting Hye-soo go, I at least did it knowing that I’ll either have another chance at being with her, or that someone else will. And someone did, and I know for a fact that he loves her and ___ with all of him.”

“In that sense, maybe resigning is ___’s way of taking control of her life this time, don’t you think?” Hoseok turns to Jungkook, understanding where you’re coming from now, as he knows the feeling of not having to constantly prove yourself to others. “She finally wants to let that burden go, to live as she wishes without feeling like she doesn’t deserve what she has, even if it means not being next to you the way she wants to. If you make her stay, how do you think she can move on from all this? How can you be sure she’s happy?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, knowing it’s not enough to process everything he’s learned this morning. There’s that past he didn’t know he shared with you, there’s his relationship with his father that he doesn’t know how to mend, there’s his feelings for you, one that’s still so strong and inescapable. 

And then there’s the thought that you’d known everything all along. You’ve been patient with him, you've been kind and understanding. Was that all because you felt like you had to? Because he’s the son of the people you feel that you owe a lot to?

It’s not that Jungkook doubts your feelings for him, but he wonders if you do. Now that you’re able to make that decision to leave, what if walking away from his family also means you realize that your feelings are tied to that indebtedness, too? How real was it for you? And after you find yourself outside of all this, would you still want him?

The thoughts make his heart break, and this tells him that after knowing everything, he still can’t deny what he feels about you. He still wants you just as much. Maybe the familiarity he always felt was because you are familiar. Maybe the connection was because of a painful past you both share, of a kind of pain you both understand. Maybe the intensity of feelings is a remnant from his childhood, one that’s tied to yours in a serendipitous way. 

He’d like to think that even without knowing, you held out for him. You could’ve chosen to leave anytime before he came but you didn’t, and your paths crossed this way and he convinces himself that you were always meant to meet each other, that you were always meant to make up for how intertwined and unfortunate your lives are. You never met then but this time, when you did, it meant so much more. He could only hope that it’s something you hold onto as well, and that when you decide to finally walk away, it doesn’t mean you walk away from him completely, too. 

“Kook, I know there’s a lot to think about but you have to get going,” Hoseok disrupts his thoughts. “Your father still wants us at that lunch. I know grandfather would, too.”

“You should go ahead, Hoseok,” Mr. Ri says. “Just make an excuse to your uncle and say I’m helping Jungkook fix up. We’ll head there right away.”

“No, tell him that I know,” Jungkook insists. “If… if he’s always wanted to mend our relationship, he and I have to start being honest with each other.”

“I will,” Hoseok says as he stands up to leave. “Get your head together, alright? You’re gonna be fine.”

Jungkook massages his temples, knowing that he doesn’t have time to get a workout in and rid himself of this terrible hangover. But he tries, as he takes a warm shower and asks Mr. Ri to prepare him a cup of lemon ginger tea and get some ginseng jelly for the ride. 

The trip to his parents’ estate starts off quiet, but the thoughts in his head are so loud that the older man asks what else is bothering him. 

“How was her time in Busan?” Jungkook asks.

“It was good. She was a shy kid but she found good people she trusted and that meant everything,” Mr. Ri answers. “I visited them often, even when they returned to Daegu. But I stopped once ___ moved back to Seoul after college. I’d ask her about her mother every now and then. It was nice to hear how well they’re doing, and how happy they are with their new family. Min-woo’s a good man and his daughters love Hye-soo and ___ so much. It turned out well for them. When I think about that, it’s really hard not to justify the decisions I made.”

“Will you make them again? If given the chance?”

“If I still think it’s what’s best then, then I would. Sometimes we make decisions because of the other person, not exactly for ourselves. Sometimes that’s how we realize just how much we love them, you know? When their happiness trumps our own.”

Jungkook merely hums. While he doesn’t think he’s at that point with you, he cares enough to want you to have that chance to find your happiness, in whatever form that may be. And if leaving the company is what it takes, then he knows you deserve that and more. It doesn’t change the fact that he wishes you can search for it while being with him, but perhaps it’s better if you find your way back to him instead. He’ll at least know you chose him, and not because you felt like you owed it to him to stay.

They make it to his parents’ estate over an hour late. The guests have arrived and Jungkook greets them before finding his father. When their eyes meet, there’s a look of sadness in the elder man’s eyes. Perhaps it’s understanding; maybe it’s an apology.

His mother gives him a long and tight hug, one that he savors for the first time in a long while. He remained distant from his parents after he decided to pursue further studies and then work in their office abroad. It’s a relationship he’s still navigating. While his mother has always been present and affectionate, Jungkook is the one who stopped reciprocating. It just seemed easier that way, but he realizes that he’s missed her warmth after taking it for granted all these years. 

The lunch gathering lasts for a few hours. Jungkook tries to pay attention to the conversations since engaging requires too much from him, especially after the morning he’s had. But his father doesn’t reprimand him this time, and for that, he’s thankful. Hoseok keeps him on his toes though, but Jungkook’s mind constantly wanders towards you. He wonders how you got home last night, if you managed to get some rest, and if you’re spending your time being angry at him or if, by any chance, you’re missing him like he’s missing you.

It’s 5 PM by the time the last guest leaves, and with Hoseok and A-yeong needing to attend a dinner party, Jungkook is left to speak with his parents alone. 

“I heard you know the truth now,” his father says as he sits across from Jungkook in the garden. “I’m sorry I kept it from you.”

“Did you intend for me not to know and find out from someone else?” Jungkook asks. 

“___ applied to the company with the intention of contributing in a small way,” his father says. “She made it without any say from me and that’s a testament to her skills and capabilities. When we met after her first day, she asked that she not be treated any differently, and I agreed. I stayed true to my word and I kept my distance, but when I heard about how Mrs. Byun treated her, I knew I couldn’t just stand back. I encouraged her to apply for the EA position, knowing that she would be treated well. And with that, she asked me not to say who she is - not to Hoseok, and especially not to you. That’s not how she wants to be known. And I always respected her request.”

“Does it make any difference, son?” His mother asks. “Does knowing who she is to our family change the way you see her?”

“No, but it makes me wonder how she’d seen me all this time,” Jungkook says. “She put up with me despite how I treated her. She was kind even if I was distant. She… she let me open myself up and that’s… that’s why I like her. That's why I asked her to be with me.”

The surprise on his parents’ faces is immediate, but they stay calm, and it’s what prompts him to continue.

“I just hate to think that she suffered all that time because she still felt like she owed us. If you asked her to stay and help me, she wouldn’t have been able to turn you down. And what if… she’s confused her feelings for me for just… gratitude towards you?”

“Oh, my dear son,” his mother sighs, taking his hand as a form of comfort. “We are so sorry that all this has caused you to doubt her sincerity but if there’s one thing we know about ___ is that she’s genuine, and if you felt cared for by her, then she meant all that.”

“Yes, I did ask her to help you, because I knew that if there was someone who could get through to you, it would be her,” his father says this time.

“So you took advantage of her? Because you knew she’d do what you’d ask,” Jungkook huffs.

“I did that because I knew that she would care, that she would understand. Thinking about it now, perhaps I asked for too much,” the elder man shakes his head. “She’s a lot like her mother, and I’ve come to realize that you’re a lot like me. I needed someone like Hye-soo and somehow I just knew that you needed someone like ___. Both of you opening up and finding comfort in each other just happened, I suppose, and that’s not such a bad thing, is it?”

“I don’t know. Because now, she doubts what I feel and I’m not sure about what she feels, too,” Jungkook admits, letting his own insecurities get the better of him. He hates that he’s started to doubt you as well. 

“If it matters, I’ve seen how she is with you. She cares about you, she worries about you. And the way you respond to her just means that your heart feels her sincerity, too,” his father responds. “Don’t let anger or fear taint that for you.”

“Aren’t you mad about what happened?” Jungkook wonders. “She’s my assistant and I ended up crossing a line. I kissed her. In my office.”

“Perhaps I should be,” his father hums. “But with her planning on resigning, I suppose you’re already feeling a lot of emotions about that. I don’t want to add anymore. You’re an adult and you know that your actions have consequences. You just have to deal with them now. And don’t ever do that again.”

There’s no anger in his father’s words. In fact, there’s comfort that Jungkook has never heard before. It suspends his worries only for a short moment, as he’s reminded that you indeed plan on leaving. When that is, he doesn’t know. But he’s gonna have to start dealing with your loss just as he needs to deal with his feelings for you. It’s all too complicated; getting together despite what you both feel isn’t that simple. Your happiness comes first. He knows he cares so much that it’s what he wants you to focus on. 

“Letting her go now doesn’t mean you have to let her go for good,” his mother tells him. “She’ll choose you if that’s what her heart says. And at least then, you’ll know for sure that she still wants you after everything.”

Jungkook’s parents’ words echo in his mind for the rest of Saturday that he spends in his living room, choosing wine as his companion for the evening. There’s no intention of getting hammered unlike the night before though. The drink calms him down and allows him to have proper sleep this time. He spends the most of his Sunday in bed, thinking about you, then attempting to remove you from his mind. 

Not wanting to deal with any more tension, he instructs Mr. Ri that Monday to just drive you straight to the office. Jungkook arrives and sees you stand up to greet him as he walks through the hallway, and he responds with a nod as his own greeting before heading straight to his room.

There’s that feeling again - of missing you, of hoping he could fix things but not knowing how, of wanting to ask you to stay but knowing he has to let you go, and of wishing that when he does, you’ll find your way back to him again. He shakes off the thoughts during that short walk to his desk, feeling himself weaken with every moment that he spends far away from you.

Jungkook takes his seat and sighs as another day starts without his usual routine. Knowing he has no other choice, he pushes on. From his periphery, he sees you glancing at him through the window, and a part of him wishes it’s your attempt at seeing if you could speak with him, maybe ask if you could talk about what happened later on or about what he now knows about you. Or anything, really. He just wants to hear your voice again. Hopefully see your smile. Despite all his doubts about you, the emptiness he feels tells him that nothing’s changed - what he feels for you is real, and he might not know what’ll happen next, but he at least knows that what he wants is to be with you; he hopes he’ll figure out how to do that with you.

He sees you glance at him again and it sparks a bit of hope. That is, until he spots the envelope on his desk, and inside it, your resignation letter.

He tries to act unaffected as he reads what you’ve written. It’s straight to the point, as you narrate your journey in the company, having started as an intern and then working in logistics before finding your footing as the Vice President’s assistant. You list the skills you’ve developed and other things you’ve learned but that you think it’s time to venture into something new and different, noting how you’ll take all your experiences with you in this new stage of your life. 

You thank him for his guidance, and he almost breaks towards the end when you mention the Arts Center. You apologize for leaving before its completion, but you’re thankful because it allowed you to appreciate the beauty of things, that it made you understand the value of meaning and connection, and that his passion for it pushed you to find something that you want to be passionate about, too. You’ve given him something, and now he knows that in his own way, he’s given something to you, too. 

You type away on your desktop while not-so-discreetly peeking into Jungkook’s office to see his reaction to your letter. Your plan was to resign after the Arts Center was launched, knowing how big of a project it is that needs all of Jungkook’s attention. He can’t be distracted, and a part of you scolds yourself for being selfish about deciding to do this now. 

But you also knew that you couldn’t delay it any longer. After what happened last Friday, you didn’t know how you could face him again, especially now that he knows everything. It didn’t feel right to continue on, not just because of your feelings but because you crossed a line - you kissed and did all that in his office. That itself is unacceptable; it almost feels like a betrayal to his family, whom you’ll have to painfully say goodbye to as well. 

Mr. Ri visited you yesterday to give you comfort, knowing that you’d choose to go through this on your own again. Jungkook was devastated but was worried about you more than anything, you were told, and somehow that made the decision less difficult but still painful to make. You don’t know if he’ll ever truly understand, especially if finding yourself means letting him go despite the happiness he gives you. 

It’s not everyday you find someone you feel so much for, but then again, human beings are complicated - they can want something and be scared of it at the same time; they can have the chance to have it but doubt it all the same. What you feel for him should be enough to dispel your worries about his sincerity but there’s too much going on in your mind at this point. Right now, you just want to get away. With him learning the truth, you suppose he needs time to process all that as well. 

You’ll miss him though. You’ll miss everything about this place. But you’ll miss him the most. 

Your phone ringing disrupts your thoughts, and your heart races when you hear Jungkook’s voice on the other end.

“Ms. Cho, please come to my office.”

You calm your nerves and find the strength to get off your seat and walk towards him. He’d been expressionless the whole time, and you wonder if he’ll hold off your resignation because it’s terrible timing. Either way, you try to prepare yourself for what’s to come. 

But clearly, you didn’t do so enough, as you’re still left speechless when he holds out an envelope for you to take, the sight of his hands that once held you close breaking your heart again.

“I accept your resignation,” he says, his voice low and firm, his eyes not fully meeting yours. “You have a month until your last day but you have two weeks worth of vacation and I urge you to take them before you leave.”

“Thank you, sir,” you manage to say, your voice soft and shaking compared to his. “I… I will.”

“And this is your recommendation letter,” he says, handing you another envelope. “You’ve shown exceptional skills throughout your tenure here, Ms. Cho. Everyone you’ve worked with says so, and I’ve seen that firsthand. I’m sure that wherever you decide to work after this, you’ll be another great asset. And my family wishes you good luck in your future endeavors. Thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”

The words are too formal, too professional for your liking, and this breaks your heart even more. But you suppose there’s no other way to do it. You’re the one leaving; you’re the one who pulled away. After everything that’s happened, you’re the one who walked out to find your happiness when Jungkook needed you the most, and you could only hope that one day, he’ll forgive you for it. That he’ll forgive you for all of it.

“Thank you, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in thanks. “I’ve said it all in my letter but once again, I appreciate everything you’ve taught me.”

You bravely look him in the eyes as he seems to have found the courage to look at you, and the longer you do, the harder it all becomes. 

“Shall I commence the process of finding my replacement, sir?” You ask.

“There is no need,” he replies. “I’ve received approval from my father to have Lucas come in as my assistant effective immediately. He’s scheduled to arrive this week, so you can spend the remaining time you have here turning over everything to him. I will announce your resignation to the team before then. You can also begin the offboarding process with HR so that there are no delays.”

“Understood, Mr. Jeon,” you say, the light in your eyes dimming as each second passes by.

“Is there anything else I could do to help you, Ms. Cho?” 

There’s a prolonged moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, his eyes tinged with a kind of sadness that you perhaps mirror, with words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.

You wish he’d say that he’s okay, that he forgives you, and that he hopes it didn’t have to be this way. 

He wishes you’d say that you’re sorry for leaving him, that you’ll be thinking about him, and that you hope you’ll find your way back to him again.

You want to tell him that he’s all you could think about, that you’ll miss him everyday, that you’ll search for  beautiful things that are tangible like you said you would, and hope they would lead you back to him. 

He wants to say that he’ll look for you everywhere, that he’ll hold onto every good memory you have together, that he hopes you find whatever makes you happy, and that he’ll wait for you until you realize that it could be him.

But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and head out the door.

You take your seat and will yourself not to cry. You can’t help it though, even as you press your palms against your ears to drown out the sounds of your own sadness, of your heart’s call of his name even if you’re the one walking away. 

You let the tears fall, a reminder that you’d done this, and that for the first time in your life, you’re crying over losing someone, even if he was someone you didn’t have in the first place. 

Maybe you weren’t meant to have him at all. 

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[munsonslove]

Open Drawers

(18+ only)

summary: You forget to close the drawer to your nightstand and your best friend accidentally finds your vibrator.

wordcount: 4.3k

tags/warnings: fem!reader, slight softdom!eddie, friends to lovers, smut, use of sex toys, praise kink (good girl), very slight degradation (he calls you a slut once), pet names (sweetheart, princess), spit used as lubricant, edging, overstim, no use of y/n

a/n: i teased this fic a while ago, sorry it took me a bit to actually post it but i hope you like it anyway!! requests are open and much appreciated, if i know someones actively waiting for me to write something for them i’ll be more likely to not spend a whole ass month on it lmao

It’s been weeks of torture. Ever since Eddie found out about your ‘little secret’ he’s refused to let it go, bringing it up as often as he can just to humiliate you further. It was cruel behavior, especially from the man you consider your best friend. Though you can’t be too surprised, considering he’d always had an affection for teasing you. In the past it had always been rather playful and innocent- maybe just ever so slightly suggestive- but you were generally able to ignore his flirtatious comments and retain your close relationship (no matter how much they made your pining heart flutter). It had been almost a month since everything changed.

Nobody was home when you returned from your shift, and inspecting the refrigerator revealed a note left to you from your roommates stating that they would be gone for the rest of the night. The news was passed along through phone call to your best friend before you even changed out of your work clothes, and within the hour Eddie had arrived at your door with a six-pack of beer and a relaxed grin. He entered without knocking (having been given a spare key from the day you moved in) and found you sprawled out on the couch, movie just starting with a large bowl of popcorn already made. You don’t even bother sparing him a glance up as he kisses the crown of your head before plopping down directly on top of you.

You try and fail to kick him off. Admittedly you may have been able to muster more strength for the task if you hadn’t been laughing at his typical antics. Failure becomes even more set in stone when his hands find their way to your sides and you dramatically call out “uncle, uncle!” in hopes that he will mercifully cease his relentless tickling. Thankfully, he does seem to be feeling benevolent this evening and climbs off, allowing you to sit up as he takes his place next to you. After ripping a can from its plastic rings, you pop open the tab and take a sip while Eddie grabs fistfulls of popcorn and shoves them into his mouth with a total lack of manners. You conclude that something is definitely wrong with you for finding this somehow endearing, and you gaze at him longingly until he turns to you with a mock-disgruntled eye roll. 

“John Hughes?”, he complains, mouth still half full, “Can’t we watch something else?”

You smirk at his predictability. “I knew we wouldn’t make it past the opening scene,” you respond while tsk-ing at him and shaking your head. “I rented a couple of cheesy looking b-movies just yesterday. You know, slasher flicks that for sure spent all their budget on fake blood?”

He smiles big and jumps up off of the sofa. “Aw, my favorite! You do love me!” he exclaims with sarcastic sentiment, “You remember to stash the tapes somewhere your thief roommates couldn’t find?”

“First of all, stop calling my friends thieves. That was one time,” you say while slapping lightly at his leg from your lowered position, “And second, yeah. They’re next to my bed.”

He nods and heads to your bedroom, not wasting time to ask permission seeing as after so many years you both had developed a ‘me casa es su casa’ type of unspoken agreement. After a few more sips of your beer and picking at a partially popped kernel, you notice that Eddie is taking an unusual amount of time retrieving the tapes. You were sure that you had left them on your nightstand, you even remember seeing them while in bed this morning as you were reaching over to-

Oh. Fuck.

The can drops from your hand and falls to the floor, spilling light amber liquid onto the hardwood. Rushing into your room, you see Eddie standing in front of the drawer you had forgone closing while leaving earlier, looking down into it with a clear view of your 18th birthday present to yourself. He whips around, jaw dropped in shock. There’s an unreadable look in his eyes as he stares you down, and you realize that you have no idea what he’s thinking about. Probably all the new ammunition he now has to use against you during one of your future banter sessions.

You run forward, shoving him sideways onto the bed and slamming the drawer shut. He lands with a huff- his back on the mattress- before propping himself up onto his elbows, still looking at you with that confusing expression. His silence so far is honestly more nerve wracking than him ruthlessly making fun of you would have been.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize frantically. “I completely forgot I left this open, and I didn’t know we’d be hanging out tonight, and when I sent you in here I didn’t even think about it, and I never want to do anything to make you uncomfortable, and I-”

“Woah, princess,” he cuts off your rambling, using that nickname that he’s been using ever since the two of you met back in school. It usually brought a warmth to your cheeks, but given that you already felt sick to your stomach the sweet moniker was not appreciated. “It’s fine, I promise!”

“Fine?” you cry out, the sound muffled by your palms as your heated face is now buried behind your hands. You turn your body to face away from him, and he pushes back with his arms to sit up the rest of the way, then reaches forward to grip your elbow and spin you back around.

“Yeah, I swear! You didn’t make me uncomfortable or anything,” he consoles. “I was just surprised, is all. I just… wouldn’t have expected… you… to have that.” As he speaks the final word, he gestures to the freshly closed drawer containing your magic wand vibrator. The room falls quiet once more as he stares blankly at the offending table, seemingly lost in thought.

You shove his shoulder a little more harshly than you mean to, and he blinks back to consciousness and rubs where you met contact before re-meeting your eyes. “Don’t look at it like that!” you chastise, ignoring the fact that he technically wasn’t looking at ‘it’ like anything, seeing as it was now hidden out of sight. Your head falls into the cover of your hands yet again as you groan out, “Ugh! You probably think I’m some kind of slut now.”

“N-no!” he’s quick to deny, shaking his head. “Of course I don’t think that about you! I mean, come on, give me some credit. It’s the 80s,” he counters, with emphasis on the last word, “guys can be progressive now. I know girls masturbate too!”

“Please don’t say that word,” you reply, your hands still hiding your face but compromising by peeking out through your fingers.

“What?” he questions with a smirk, “Masturbate?”

“You’re completely impossible,” you state, giving in and dropping your arms to your side. You pick up the videos from your messy nightstand and turn on your heel to walk out the door, not even stopping as you shout out “Are you coming or what, Eds?”

Behind you, Eddie takes the opportunity of your back being turned to adjust himself in his pants and prays that he manages to keep it down throughout the duration of movie night.

That was almost an entire month ago. While Eddie took pity on you for the remainder of that night, the very next morning began his onslaught of mockery. Although, perhaps mockery wasn’t quite the right word, because you know all his jokes were meant to be lighthearted and fun. You know if you told him he was making you uncomfortable that he would stop in a heartbeat, so the real problem you’re facing is that you don’t want him to stop. Every time he shows up unannounced and slyly asks, “I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” with that knowing gleam in his eyes, you’re not sure if you want to scold him for his teasing or jump his bones. Him speaking so candidly about something that’s always been so private should be embarrassing- and it is- but it would be dishonest to say the butterflies in your stomach are only there because of your modesty. Truth be told, he was turning you on every time he hinted at the fact that he knows all about your favorite form of self care.

Not only were the teasing comments nonstop, there were also the questions. Eddie was relentlessly curious about the process (which confounded you considering you thought the situation was pretty straightforward) and he never seemed to run out of things he wanted to ask you.

“How long have you had it?”, “How many settings are there?”, “How often do you use it?”, “Do you need it to get off?”, “What do you think about when you use it?” (definitely couldn’t answer that one honestly), and finally, “How exactly do you use it?”

According to him, he wanted to know the ‘right way’ to use one on a girl for future reference. One day, the frustration of constantly having to dodge his incessant questions became too much, and without thinking you blurted out, “If you’re so curious about how to use it, why don’t I just teach you?” Understandably, your outburst shocked the both of you. What shocked you more was when Eddie quickly recovered and excitedly agreed.

That was how you found yourself spread out on your bed with your best friend on his knees in between your thighs. Your most private area is only covered by your hands, and your discarded panties are tucked in Eddie’s back jeans pocket.

“How am I supposed to do this if you’re hiding, princess?” he asks, observing the toy and turning it over in his hands, “Don’t be shy. It’s just me.”

That was the problem. It was him, your friend that you’ve been harboring a secret crush on for years. Now you’re in a position with him that you’ve fantasized about so many times, and you don’t know what it means for the future of your relationship. Above you, Eddie fiddles with the two buttons, figuring out the mechanics of what they do. He discovers the bottom button turns it on while the top changes the speed. There are three settings, and after cycling through them all it starts back at the beginning, only turning off by pressing the bottom button once more. When he’s done figuring out how the toy works, he powers it on to the lowest setting and looks at you expectantly, eyes flitting between your hands and face. You turn your head to the side, take one final deep breath and move your arms to your stomach, revealing yourself to him.

The air is cold on your exposed center. Other than your shaky exhaling and the humming of the vibrator, it’s quiet. You realize with embarrassment that Eddie has stopped breathing, and when you steal a glance back at him he’s staring at your bare center with an unreadable expression. You instinctively hide your face in your hands, and your thighs involuntarily twitch to close. Of course, they can’t fully shut with Eddie sitting in between them, but the movement does stir the boy from his trance. He pries your hands away from your face and you’re forced to confront his inspecting of you.

He kisses a wet peck to the tip of your nose like he’s done so many times before, and just like always your entire face scrunches up with a smile. With eyes now closed, you start to feel giddy and you can’t help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation. You half expect Eddie to start laughing with you, but no sound comes from your friend. Suddenly- and without warning- he presses the vibrator directly to your clit. Your eyes snap open, rolling back in both shock and pleasure as a humiliatingly high pitched squeal escapes out of your slack-jawed mouth.

“Such a pretty sound from such a pretty girl,” Eddie says, barely loud enough to hear considering the buzzing raised in volume due to being pushed up against something. It’s almost like he was more absentmindedly commenting to himself rather than purposefully complimenting you.

You’re only capable of responding with moans as your legs fold into your torso and your toes start to curl. It’s still set to the lowest vibration option, but your aforementioned nerves and arousal were making you much more sensitive than you would otherwise be while using the toy alone. Eddie’s empty hand moves to stroke your inner thigh, before inching toward your center slowly. He seems to be asking permission to touch you himself, and the fact that he still thinks to wait for consent while literally sitting in between your legs after taking off your underwear almost has you laughing again. Instead, you simply nod your head. Eddie’s fingers immediately spread your lips further, allowing the head of the vibrator to be able to hit your clit more directly. The buzzing becomes higher in pitch as he goes up one setting, and the sensation becomes too much to handle.

“Sorry,” he whispers when you whine and start to squirm away, “I’ll be nice.”

After positioning yourself back into place, you mumble out, “Sensitive…” as an explanation. Your voice is surprisingly weak.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, though you doubt he actually feels regretful, “I know.”

The sound of clicking reaches your ears as Eddie toggles the toy back to the first setting. His thumb briefly brushes over your clit, causing you to shiver and gasp, and he breathes out a quiet laugh before pressing the vibrator against you once more- this time more gently. The vibrations are more bearable this way, and you feel the pleasure slowly start to rise and rise until you become a moaning puddle beneath the metalhead. Just as you’re crying out his name- a warning that you're about to cum- he pulls away, cruelly laughing at your protesting.

“Eds, what the fuck?” you shout, frustratedly. “I was so close! Why the hell would you-”

“Calm down, princess,” he interrupts. “You know I’ll get you there. I just wanna have some fun along the way.”

And you do know. You trust him more than anyone else- you’d trust him with your life- but you also know that he’s a little shit. “Please, Eds. Please just get to it,” you beg.

He stares at the head of the toy for a moment before lifting it to his face. His tongue parts his lips, swollen and pink from him biting them, and your eyes widen as he slowly licks directly where the silicone was just touching you. He moans, and his eyes roll back into his head. The sight only drives you more wild, and your hips start rocking the bed as you wait for him to continue.

He starts to bite his lips again as he watches you grind against nothing, desperately searching for friction. “Maybe I was wrong before,” he says slowly with a teasing lilt, “maybe you are a slut.” He had a look in his eyes that you had never seen before.

Your entire body raises in temperature. “Eddie…” you whine, surprised by how much his rudeness is affecting you. “Please…”

“So fucking wet, dripping all over your sheets,” he continues distractedly, paying no mind to your pleading as he caressed up and down your slit, collecting your juices. When he pulls away, you notice the lights of your bedroom reflecting off the glistening moisture on his fingers, and you resist the urge to hide again. “Such a pretty pussy. The prettiest. She’s not used to being treated so nicely, huh?”

As usual, his confidence blurs the line between incredibly sexy and incredibly annoying. His words are making your insides flutter, and probably worsening the ‘dripping all over your sheets’ problem. Still, you can’t help but feel your frustration grow. “Please, Eds, make me cum. Please make me cum,” you beg some more as you scoot down the bed. Your thighs no longer have the room to be laying on either side of him. Instead, they are now resting atop his own thighs, with your pelvises almost meeting making contact.

“So desperate for your best friend to make you cum. Are you always this wet, princess?” As he asks this, the vibrator meets your center again. He rubs it back and forth vertically in quick motions, and you groan in relief.

You answer by shaking your head no. It definitely wasn’t always like this. In fact, it was never like this. The toy slid so effortlessly between your puffy lips, massaging your sensitive nub directly and bringing tears to your eyes.

“Aw,” he cooed, “so it’s just for me?”

As embarrassed as you feel, you figure there’s no use in denying it now. “J- just for you.”

That familiar feeling of climax starts to creep up on you once more, and once more you cry out in annoyance when Eddie eases up the pressure before pulling off entirely.

“No!” you sob, “Eddie please, I need it so bad.”

“You’ll cum when I’m ready for you to cum,” he says, though the dominance in his tone is betrayed by the lust in his eyes. “I just want to play with you for a little longer. You’ll be a good girl, right?”

You suspect that he won’t start up again until you agree, so you do so without a second thought. “I’ll be your good girl,” you promise, “I’ll be good.”

He smiles wide at you before spreading your lips apart and leaning down to spit directly in between them, not that you needed the extra lubrication. Feeling his saliva make contact sent shockwaves through your body, and your back arched just in time for him to harshly press the vibrator back to your clit and start rubbing it in fast circles. This time, the orgasm doesn’t so much creep up on you as it does jump out in front of you, and you’re about to give in until you hear Eddie’s voice behind the haze.

“Hold it,” he orders. “You said you would be good, so be a good little slut and hold it.”

Your head is already thrown back, and you squeeze your eyes shut in concentration. Every fiber of your being is focused on not cumming, wanting to do as Eddie wishes so you can please him. Noticing your efforts, he lifts the toy off of your aching clit and allows you to catch your breath. With your newfound relief from the strain of resisting climax, you notice that Eddie’s free hand has left your waist, and you look down to a glorious sight.

Eddie’s palming himself through his jeans. The image burns itself into your eyelids, so not even blinking becomes an escape from what you're witnessing your best friend do to himself (not that you’re complaining). You silently observe in awe as he attempts to shove his hand down his pants, and struggles on account of them being too tight. To remedy this, he unzips his jeans and slides them down just far enough for you to catch a glimpse of his hard cock straining against the fabric of his boxers. There’s a wet patch where his head was leaking precum, and a clear imprint of his impressively girthy shaft. Once the pants are out of his way you see his hand disappear inside of his underwear as he wraps it around his member and starts jerking harshly, not fully able to stroke up and down his length given the obstructive clothing.

The pure, unadulterated lust that’s consuming you is overpowering any shyness you previously felt. “Eddie,” you say his name, but he ignores you considering you’ve been a constant stream of “Eddie, Eddie, oh Eddie,” for the past ten minutes. “Eds,” you try again, “you can take it out.”

All movement inside his boxers halts. “Huh?” he exclaims with wide eyes, “A- are you sure? This was supposed to be about you.”

“I’m sure,” you confirm. And you lift up your t-shirt to reveal the white lacy bra underneath as you elaborate, “I want you to finish on me.”

His forehead wrinkles as his eyebrows shoot up in shock. With his wide eyed staring, it almost seems like he can’t believe what you’re saying. Drool pools in his open mouth before he composes himself with a head shake. Wordlessly, he sets the still vibrating toy down on the mattress and lifts your thighs off of him, before sitting up enough to pull down the sides of his boxers. His cock springs up the second his underwear is out of the way, and -without thinking about the consequences- you spit into your palm and reach out to tentatively wrap your fingers around him.

The strangled noise that leaves his mouth is the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. He instinctively bucks his hips, but freezes, waiting for you to make the call. You start stroking him hard and fast, not bothering working up to a quicker speed when you were already so desperate for release and wanted him to cum with you. Eddie can apparently relate to said desperation, and hastily picks up the toy back up. Every muscle inside of you clenched as he started rubbing the tip against your clit in small circles. You strained to prolong this moment, knowing your eventual orgasm would be much more rewarding if you could see his face as he came all over your hand and stomach. 

“God, sweetheart,” he groans, “So fucking good. So much better than my hand.” 

The mental image of Eddie touching himself has you cursing out loud. “Really?” you ask, the pride getting to your head, making you feel light and floaty.

“You have no idea,” he responds. “Been fucking my fist nonstop since that movie night. Couldn’t help myself. All I could think about was you getting off, moaning my name.” You wonder if he knows just how real his fantasy was.

His free hand gently caresses the lacy undergarment covering your chest, his touch so light you barely register it. The uncertainty in his actions is clear, so in lieu of giving verbal consent you simply take his hand in your own and guide it to be fully on your breast.

“Can I pull this down, princess?” he practically begs, and you answer with a nod. He immediately tugs the breast cups downward, revealing your naked chest. Your soft, unmarked flesh is framed by the bunched up fabric of your shirt that’s been gathered at your clavicle, and the lacy material of your bra being held below by Eddie’s trembling hand. His hips are now moving in time with the rhythm of your strokes, and the rocking is causing your tits to bounce in a way that has his angry red tip spilling precum all over your hand as he attempts to hold off his release. The sight has you imagining what he would taste like, with you on your knees in the back of his van, and that thought has you hurtling toward the finish line at an embarrassing speed.

“Cum for me,” he orders. The second he gives you permission, you feel the damn break. As you're busy crying out in pleasure, you faintly hear Eddie in the background. “Good girl,” he grunts, “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

You cum with his name on your lips. The intensity of this orgasm is unfamiliar, and you realize with bitterness that the edging you were forced to endure was truly worth the end result. With your mind elsewhere, your stroking halts and you hear the creaking of your bed as Eddie starts to violently thrust into your fist until he meets you in orgasmic bliss. Warmth falls on your naked torso and you look down to see that he’s angled his cock to be aiming at your stomach, fulfilling your earlier wish of him finishing on you. The sight of him using your hand to milk himself dry combined with the buzzing still pressed hard against your clit has you cumming harder than you ever have before. Your hand falls from Eddie as his high comes to an end, but he does nothing to pull away the toy and offer relief to your achingly sensitive core. Any attempt to wiggle your hips free from his hold seems to go unnoticed by his strength, and you have no choice but to take the unrelenting vibrations. The overstimulation has tears falling down the side of your face as your shoulders raise from the bed, the top of your scalp pushing into the mattress as your head is thrown back. Eventually, you are able to move away, and Eddie turns off the toy and chucks it off the bed before climbing on top of you and finally kissing you on the lips.

With both of you breathing heavily into the other’s open mouth, the kiss isn’t exactly how you always imagined your first kiss with your best friend to go, but it’s perfect nonetheless. Your hands find their way into his wild hair, while his tighten their grip on your waist. His tongue in your mouth just barely has the taste of you on it from him licking your toy earlier, and as his thigh brushes your middle small aftershocks rush through your body. You stay like this for a while, lazily making out and feeling each other’s bodies, until he breaks off of your mouth to kiss down your jaw, to your neck, then back up to the side of your face.

When he reaches just under your ear, his lips part from your heated skin to whisper, “So we’re doing that again, right?”

Grabbing a tuft of his hair, you guide him back to your mouth, and with your lips moving against him you answer, “Definitely,” before deepening the kiss. You’re still unsure of what this exactly means for your friendship, but that can be talked about another time.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut

[demonicbaby666]

Dom Emily prentiss x intern fem reader is all i ask!! Smutty ofc, a lil bit of a humiliation kink if you’re comfortable!!! Thank yewww

Packing Heat

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 4.8k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, strap-ons (r!receiving), semi-public sex (office sex, again…), praise, degradation, mommy kink, kind of dub-con at one point, top!Emily, bottom!reader

Summary: Interning at the BAU means you don’t interact with the person in charge a lot. Of course, this doesn’t mean you haven’t seen the section chief in passing or exchanged pleasantries; it's that they’re simple, short-lived and often anti-climatic. However one evening, you find yourself in the desolate office with no chance of going home, work to be done, but no one to sit with you through the process. With only one other soul residing on the sixth floor, it seems Emily may be your best bet for company.

A/n: Listen, could she be more dom? Yes. Is there any humiliation? Not really... But I got lost while writing, so please don't be mad at me... Hope you still enjoy!

When you'd first started at the BAU, it was safe to say you hadn't seen much of the woman calling the shots. There were always updates about when the team were taken out of state, what their cases would entail, the steady progress being made, and the brief comical encounters Garcia spewed around the office. When they were back, everyone made an effort to small talk. They welcomed you well and continued to appreciate the little things you did for them daily. Emily, however, was constantly on the go, meaning every encounter you'd had with her consisted of one-way glances and hopeful smiles in the event she decided to notice her surroundings and the human lifeform less than two metres away. 

She never did, though, until one uneventful evening. 

Almost everyone had vacated the building. The only remaining souls left on the sixth floor were you, Emily, and a one-person cleaning crew—whom you watched exit through glass doors before approaching the brunette's office with shaky knees. Peeking through the window, you saw her attention dart to and from the bright computer screen to the mountains of bureaucratic paperwork lying atop her desk. It was easy to get lost in the little creases between her eyebrows, brought out by the deep scowl she wore, the delicate way her fingers were woven together, and the pads of her thumbs skirting against one another as she pondered in deep thought. 

It was nearing eight, and you were struggling to understand how someone could appear so put together at this late hour, given that their day was most certainly jam-packed with non-stop slog. 

Emily's eyes suddenly flashed up. She squinted toward her door, trying to figure out who'd be here this late other than herself. When she appeared to have worked it out, she leaned back victoriously in her chair, a smug smile on her face, when she called out, "Are you going to stand out there all night?" 

You could have done two things: scurried off like a teenager caught peeping or held your chin up high and walked into the older woman's office with little to no shame. Somehow, you managed to do a mix of both, scurrying in with sagging shoulders, a guilty smile plastered on your face and trembling hands clasping your laptop over your chest.

"Well, it's eerily quiet out there, and I would go home to write this paper. It's just that my roommate and her boyfriend have an awful tendency to forget about volume control when they're—" You cut yourself off, realising it probably wasn't appropriate to talk to your boss about your roommate's over-the-top borderline pornographic soundscape. "I was wondering if I could, you know."

Emily, satirising as ever, waited with a raised eyebrow and a relaxed smile for you to continue your purposefully unfinished question. 

"Sorry, I should let you work." You surrendered to your weak resolve with flushed cheeks and began to turn around.

"Sit," she ordered before you had fully turned back around to the door, nodding to the available chair on the other side of her desk. Her eyes followed your journey to the seat, watching as you placed your laptop down and opened it with shaky fingers. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to her work. "I could do with some company." 

The following silence, starting as unsettling and stagnant, blossomed into something warm and comfortable. There were occasional glances thrown your way and vice versa. Their acknowledgement and appreciation were shown in the form of timid smiles on your end and double takes followed by teasing smirks on Emily's. 

When half an hour had passed, your shoulders had finally relaxed, your fingers had stopped their infernal twitching, and your paper neared its completion. There was a proud smile cresting, and you were trying to prevent it from forming, knowing how dorkish it made you look. But you knew there was no hope when your cheeks ached and your jaw locked. You granted yourself the freedom to display your gloating smile. 

Just as expected, Emily had a questioning look on her face when you dared to look up from the document. There was a playfulness to the upward quirk of her lips - the superiority of a predator knowing the power they have over their prey, ready to prove it at any given moment. 

"I've almost finished," you timidly admitted, feeling obligated to explain as heat infiltrated your jutted-out cheeks. 

Without a second thought, the ravenette stood up and made her way around the desk. She could have easily chosen to turn the laptop around. Instead, she took the far more intimate route. 

Soft curves grazed your shoulder blades, causing you to shiver. The weight finally settled, soft padding pressed flat against your back as Emily read your paper, and suddenly, your stomach had worked itself into looping knots, and your heart was racing. 

The struggle continued as you fought not to fidget, if only to alleviate the growing tension mounting between your thighs. This was only made worse when Emily's right hand left the back of your chair to drop down over your shoulder and land comfortably on your thigh. 

"Such a smart girl," she whispered sultrily into the shell of your ear, squeezing generous flesh between her fingers. 

With a scrambled brain, there was little fight to be put up against the meek whimper that crackled against the constricted lining of your throat. Subconsciously, your thighs tensed, and your pussy fluttered as you were reminded how close Emily's hand was to where you could only dream she'd touch. 

You'd thought you imagined it—the subtle shift in the room from breezy and light to torrid and all-consuming, but with Emily's fingers veering off course, inching higher and higher, reality came crashing down. 

"Thank you," you struggled to get the words out, and when they did come out, they were tremulous and feeble. 

Turning to look at her may have, in hindsight, been a mistake because where her gaze should have been fixed on the laptop screen, it was glued to your lips. Unexpectedly, your stomach flipped, and you felt dizzy. She was still superbly perfect up close, skin smooth like silk, cheekbones sharp as a razor, and lips cut from velvet. It was too close, dangerously so, you had to look away. Outside the window, you spotted a swarm of birds barely visible against the night sky. You ignored the clanking of your heart as you focussed on their synchronicity, watching them circle each other until they became one big blur of messy movements. 

The hand resting on the leather backing of your chair rose, skirting up and over your neck, until a firm grip was established around your dangling ponytail. She was gentle when she tugged, aware that though she wanted to educate you in the art of being owned, you were delicate.

"I think a pretty thing like you deserves a reward," she baited. "Don't you?" 

Her grip on you may have been physical. However, a stronger pull was coming from deep within you, an unimportant piece of scrap metal drawn in by a powerful magnet. It was useless to deny her. The mesmerising glow of her chocolate eyes and the promise of being made to feel special was too powerful. So, you nodded slowly but eagerly, desire painting your eyes dark shades of lust. 

"That's a good girl." 

Emily didn't miss how you preened at the praise and safely stored that information away for further use. She shifted to your side, hands migrating to the small of your waist, guiding you to your feet. The act of it was far gentler than you'd expected, like a gentleman asking a maiden to dance, sweeping her off her feet to whisk her away into a fairytale land filled with magic and romance. 

Certain the benign treatment would be short-lived, you granted yourself the leniency to enjoy it whilst it lasted, refusing to get too caught up in the dull ache between your legs that craved the form of savagery Emily displayed in the field. 

There was nothing short of passion in how she worked. It drove you crazy. As wrong as it felt, you couldn't help but envy the dirtbag the team was working to catch because you saw how badly the brunette wanted them. The look in her eyes, gratification and disgust all at once, when she'd achieved what she set out to do and was staring the devil right in the face - it made your heart race, your palms sweat and your cunt throb. 

The memory kickstarted what could only be described as a brutal attack upon the older woman's lips. To her credit, Emily indulged the outburst for a lot longer than you'd have thought. As if she'd expected it, she quickly responded, pulling you into her body and tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss. The lead was stolen promptly from your grasp when Emily wedged a leg between your thighs, backed you up against her desk and tactically slid her tongue into your gaped mouth. You would have gasped if not for the fact you were immediately indulged in the minty taste of your boss's tongue skirting over the roof of your mouth. So much so that you scarcely noticed the pressure coming from your core was no longer just a phantom need manifested but taut clothed muscle pressing you further and further into the sharp wooden edge of the desk. 

"Emily," you breathily moaned, pulling back and separating your kiss-swollen lips from the brunette's. Ordinarily, you wouldn't have allowed what happened next to occur, but this was Emily, after all, the BAU section chief, and if you were to let anyone order you about, it would be her. 

She backed away from you with a final nip to your bottom lip, letting it go with a pop, and you fought the urge to reach out and pull her back to you. You knew you'd already tried to take things into your own hands once, and doing so again may undermine any chances you had of keeping the ball rolling on tonight's affairs. 

You could feel the tight pull of your ponytail and all the places where hair had been lead array from the confines of your hairband, and it truly dawned on you how out of sorts you must have appeared. Tracing your fingers over your lips, you could make out how swollen they were - puffy and hot, yet desperate and pouted, begging for more. Your breathing was laboured, filling the room's silence, and your shirt suddenly felt too tight as your chest expanded with each intake of oxygen. It almost came as a relief when Emily opened her mouth to finally speak until you heard what she'd said.

"Take your clothes off," she mindlessly ordered, walking around to her chair and sitting back in it. Her eager eyes trained over your body with the faintest shimmer of mirth. 

Initially, it was a shock. Of course, it was. You were in an official government building, personnel still sparsely spread throughout, and a goddess of a woman was asking you to bare yourself to her. 

For the longest time, revealing your body to someone always felt like giving up something. Perhaps some kind of purity. The moment you gave it up, it bred only guilt and shame that twisted and pulled at the pit of your stomach until you felt sick. You stood there, waiting for that feeling to come. It never did. 

Remaining still, your body pulsed not with nerves but with exhilaration and anticipation. It took a few seconds to realise this was precisely what you wanted. You wanted to give this false sense of purity away. There was not a sudden influx of courage soaring through every living cell of your body. However, there was enough for you to put on a front and do as you were told. 

"Slowly." Emily sat further back and placed her elbows neatly over the arms of her chair. She laced her fingers together, offered you an encouraging nod, and then was back to watching you raptly.

Feeling like a glutton, you followed a path of desire and heeded Emily's request, fingers increasingly fumbling over each button of your shirt. 

"So obedient." And in no way was it said negatively; the adulatory smile she gave you only sought to prove that further. 

The way she looked at you made you feel as though you were already naked. Maybe that was why it was so easy to get lost in the subtlety of undressing. It was art, and you were a performer. That's what you told yourself. And for the most part, it worked. 

With closed eyes, you trailed your fingers over your shoulders, letting your shirt drop to the floor. The AC raised goosebumps over your chest, pebbled your nipples under your plain bra, and you smiled. You smiled because this was the most alive you had felt in months. The thrill of moving on to your slacks and deftly unclasping your belt felt like being on a rollercoaster, like missing a step and laughing fear in the face afterwards. You felt utterly fearless. 

In the back of your mind, you could sense Emily's eyes still on you. You could hear her moving around but didn't think to check her reaction. You were in your element, and far be it for a look of appraisal, or lack of, to stop you. That was until your trousers hit the carpet with a soft thud, and a sharp breath was heard from across you. 

Your eyes snapped open, and you found Emily's smile was absent. The brunette now had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked you up and down, knuckles white from her deadly grip over the armrests. 

She lifted a hand, palm facing the ceiling as her index and middle finger crooked. "Come here so I can get a proper look at you," she said, slightly breathless. 

The desk had conveniently covered the lower half of Emily's body, which meant that when you circled around and came to stand next to her, you could see exactly what the earlier ruffling had been about. 

"Is that?" You froze, both shocked and utterly intrigued by the thick black dildo jutting out from the older woman's opened slacks. 

She didn't need you to finish the question, already nodding as she followed your line of sight. Leaning forward with an outstretched arm, Emily coiled her fingers around your wrist and pulled you forward, causing you to almost stumble over your own feet. At this closer distance, you could tell the faux cock would give you a run for your money. It was thicker than anything you had taken before, though that was not a hard trophy to earn, given that the most you had let anyone put inside you was three fingers. 

"Do you want to come sit on mommy's lap?" Emily asked with a tilt of her head. 

She didn't miss how your breath caught in your throat, how you seemed to stop blinking, stop moving, stop existing.

"Are you scared?" the lioness asked, sights set on her prized fawn. 

You shook your head and placed one foot in front of the other, eyes downcast as you took in the size of Emily's additional appendage. The shake of your jaw gave you away. 

"I don't like being lied to," she snapped, eyes dimming to an even darker shade of brown. 

She pulled you in by your waist and sat you on her lap, cock brushing over the thin material of your underwear. Instinctively, you wedged your bottom lip between your teeth to quiet yourself. But Emily wasn't having any of it. Her thumb came to your captive lip, where she helped release it with a soft flick. 

The smooth texture of Emily's cock through your sodden panties was a needed relief. Its head purposefully pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves evoked a flurry of shivers to run down your spine. And with nothing holding you back, you moaned in gratitude. 

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Emily smirked, watching you rut against her. 

"Yes," you uttered, breath caught in your throat. 

Happy to watch, Emily relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, enjoying the show you were putting on for her. Only when she recognised the tell-tell signs of frustration wash over your features, from your creased brow to the bite of your lip between your teeth, did a sick smirk lick the edges of her lips. With a mischievous glint shining in her eyes, the older woman shifted her position, pointedly ignoring the sound it pulled from you. 

"Something wrong?" she asked with a hitch of one eyebrow, adamant to appear oblivious. 

You gave no reply, only held tight to her shoulders in defiance and continually ground down on her, trying so hard to pleasure yourself to no avail that your eyes began to sting with the emergence of tears. 

With sweat threatening to spill down the side of your face, the tension between your legs starting to ache, and your release nowhere near in sight, you threw your head back with a sigh and whispered a quiet 'please' to the ceiling.

"Please what?" Came the dull reply, tone bored, unamused, unimpressed.  

You tried to impale yourself, failing as strong hands held you down. It was driving you crazy—pleasure being so close yet so far. 

With one hand removed from your hip, Emily gripped your jaw and turned your attention solely to her stern gaze, "Are you going to stop being a brat and tell me what you want?" 

When no answer came, she let go, jerking your head back as if disgusted with the lack of compliance. 

"Get up." 

Ice, you were made of ice. Sat still, shocked, speechless and slightly mortified. 

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Emily's voice was no longer flat; it was not roaring either. Instead, it was layered, resembling the same barbed tone a teacher might use with a disobedient student. It was enough of a motivator to get you to rise to your feet. 

Following you closely, the older woman, too, rose to her full height, hands meticulously reaching behind your back to expertly relieve you of your bra. Never once did she look you in the eye. 

With the same callous approach, you were turned and pressed against the desk, papers sticking to your heated chest. Emily was quick to loop her fingers through the hem of your underwear and slip them down your thighs, allowing gravity to do the rest. 

The full-bodied presence behind you lessened, and you took it as the opportune moment to glance back. 

The brunette had let her trousers drop to the floor, allowing you to see how her porcelain skin was directly contrasted by the black leather of her strap-on. Unlike yourself, she did not appear nervous or afraid. As she kicked the tailored pants aside and met your gaze, you realised how in control she was. 

Her gaze moved down your body, hands running down your back, until finally, she pressed herself against you and lowered her body atop yours. 

"I can feel how wet you are," she teased, running two fingers through the mess between your legs. "Are you always this wet?" 

"Emily, please," you begged. 

"I asked before, please what?" She raked five fingers down your side, moving them back up till they wound tightly in your hair and gripped your neck to an uncomfortable arch. Two fingers pushed inside you but did no more than that, remaining still as stone. "If you're going to be a baby and refuse to tell me what you want, you'll get nothing." 

"Fuck me!" You no longer had the sound of mind to acknowledge shouting something vulgar could attract attention. Logic had evaded you, allowing you to play right into your boss's hands. "Please just fuck me."

Sliding her slick fingers out of you, she proudly stated, "That wasn't hard, was it?"

If the older woman wanted an answer, she did not allow for one. In one fluid motion, she rose from over you and snapped her hips forward, sheathing the entire length of her cock into your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat, resulting in a strained groan tumbling out of your open mouth. The pit of your stomach dropped, and try as you might have not to clench around the toy inside you, you did precisely that. 

It was new, the foreign feeling of being filled so fully that one slight move would summon pleasure that sent shivers through your whole body. It wasn't unwelcome, especially when Emily started to move, and heat engulfed your entire body. Her pace was languid, allowing you to feel each slide of her cock along your slick walls, how each push of her hips ended in the tip hitting the spot within you to cause the furling in your stomach to expand tenfold. It was all you could do not to scream when the push and pull and Emily's hips moved with more purpose, jerking your body into the edge of her desk. 

"I've barely started, and you're already dripping down your thighs." Her voice was laced with mirth, finger smearing your mess as if to prove an unnecessary point that had your cheeks burning up. "How long have you been thinking about this?" Emily finished her question with an arduous thrust. "How many times have you sunk your fingers into your pussy and thought of me?" 

The questions continued, each hitting the nail right on the head. Your cheeks were scorched with the embarrassment that comes with having your desires known and exposed, but it did not take hold of your conscience as the event of falling in front of a large crowd might have. It was comparable to how a blushing maiden may feel when caught by a suitor in only their undergarments. It excited that small part of you that gave in to demoralisation and encouraged you enough to meet Emily halfway as she thrust into you. 

As your pleasure mounted, the need for more grew. Your clit, swollen and needy, begged for relief, and you beckoned to its call, sliding one hand from above your head to the juncture between your legs. It was when the tips of your fingers brushed against your sensitive pearl and you gained the briefest taste of the euphoria that Emily removed her hand from your thigh and snatched your hand away, halting all movement. 

You could have cried, having everything, then nothing, so quickly. 

"Did I say you could do that?" 

Abruptly pulling out, Emily stood tall and proud, staring down at you with curiosity and disappointment lining the brown of her eyes. She heard you whimper and acknowledged your sniffle. 

"There's no need to cry," she tutted, flipping you onto your back and lifting you by your shoulders. "You're going to listen to me from now on." 

You nodded, and she once again lined her cock to your opening, only now she waited, taunting you with possibilities. 

"Beg," she instructed. 

And you heeded. 

"Please. I need you." 

"You can do better." She sounded bored, and this struck a nerve within you, one that begged you to impress her, show her you could be a good little girl, and beg as though your life depended on it. 

You took a heaving breath and looked into Emily's eyes, sporting your best puppy eyes. "I need you. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me with your big cock, mommy. Make me scream out your name. I need it." 

"There's a good pet," she cooed, mesmerising you with the bating of her lashes as she looked down to where your bodies were so close to touching. 

It all happened in a blur. The next thing you knew, your nails were digging into muscled shoulders, legs wrapping around a slim waist as the brunette filled you, wasting no time in picking up a brutal tempo. You barely recognised the sound of your voice as high-pitched obscenities spilt past your lips. You felt your whole body light up, heard blood pulse in your ears, and saw in real-time just how easy it was to aid Emily in calling upon your impending orgasm. 

Your vulgar mouth, luckily, seemed to amuse Emily enough for her to let you continue rutting your hips against her. The corners of her lips curled, and her smirk lasted only so long for you to see before she inched forward and kissed you with passion and hunger. It was easy, so easy, to melt into the brief moment of intimacy. The butterflies felt tangible, and the sparks crackled in your ears; it felt so fucking good you'd almost forgotten just where you were. Of course, bubbles eventually popped, and this one was demolished by rustling outside Emily's office. 

What little movement Emily allowed, her hands holding you firmly against the desk by your waist, was not enough to wriggle free and glance behind to see what was happening. Instead, the possibility of being caught weighed heavier with each drawled-out second. 

"Emily," You tried but were cut off by a tongue sliding into your mouth. "Emily, stop."

With a bite to your lip, the older woman backed off, confusion marking her features, "What is it?" she punctuated her question with a hard thrust. 

"Someone's o-" another hard thrust. "Someone's outside."

Emily smiled, picking up her pace, forcing you to breathe so deep you felt your lungs expand. 

"You'd better be quiet then." 

Whatever protest you were about to give died in your throat when nails skirted up to your chest and dug painfully into your breast, and Emily pushed herself so deep within you that you felt her hitting your cervix. A strangled cry was briefly heard before you managed to clasp your hand over your lips and silence your own mewls. She was fucking you as if her life depended on getting a reaction out of you that would draw attention. Nevertheless, you held firm and stayed as quiet as your muffled sobs would allow you to be. 

"Emily, please," you were pleading for release and for the brutal fucking stop because you knew there would be no chance you could keep a lid on your volume; there would also be no chance you would survive not cumming. 

Taking note of this, the older woman took the route of giving you your release, dragging a thumb down over your clit and applying the right amount of pressure to have your tense legs turn into a shaky mess of tremors. She didn't stop there; with a brief slide, she ran your slick over your bundle of nerves and started to circle steadily. 

"Fuck!" You screamed out, missing the way the ruffling outside suddenly stopped. "I'm cumming. I'm cumming." 

"That's it," the brunette encouraged, her fingers coming up to crook and tangle through the mussed mess of your hair, nails slowly working against your scalp. "Let everyone hear what a slut you are, letting me fuck you over my desk." 

She didn't stop, though, not when your clit felt raw and your pussy tender, not when you begged and not even when you reached out and tried to grab her wrist. Emily only yanked you down by your hair, relishing the thud the brutal move made. She fucked you harder till stationary fell to the floor from your thrashing arms, and by then, her lips were already wrapped around a nipple, sucking firm whilst you cried through a second orgasm. 

When you finally felt empty, you didn't even try to open your eyes. You knew your vision would be blurred if not blacked out. Instead, you focussed on coming back down to earth, steading your breath and not thinking about how you strangely missed being filled by Emily despite being so fucking sore. 

"Are you still alive?" a smug voice asked from above, and you pried your bleary eyes open to weakly smile. 

"I think so," you whispered, peeling your sweat-slick back from the desk. That was when you remembered the unknown personnel outside and shot a look at the door. 

"They're gone," Emily said, cupping your chin and turning you back to her. Again, you were greeted by that conniving smirk. "After your commentary, I think they understood we didn't want to be disturbed." 

"But-" 

"Uh-uh." she silenced you with a finger to your lips, the smell of yourself still narrowly fragrant. You took the digit into your mouth, patting yourself on the back as you watched Emily's eyes turn dark. "You want to make Mommy feel good now, don't you?" She knew the answer, but oh, how she loved to watch you sink to your knees and eagerly nod anyway. You helped unclasp the straps of her harness, then set to pealing the last barrier keeping you from her heat down her legs. 

"My good little pet," she said, smiling down at you and happily watching you beam. Her hand cupped your jaw before moving to the back of your neck, where she pulled you to her core and began singing a melody of moans. 

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[alxtiny]

can you do which ateez habit you would have picked up from being around them for too long?

I struggled with this more than I should have I’m sorry 😭😭😭😭 Happy reading!!!

Habits you pickup from Ateez

Synopsis: little habits you pick up from ateez

Pairing: ateez members x gn!reader, idol au

Genre: fluff

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: none:)

masterlist

• Hongjoong

Falling asleep in random places

You never thought you'd pick up such a peculiar habit from Hongjoong but here you were, dozing off on the couch in his studio. It had become somewhat of a routine lately. Hongjoong often found himself working late into the night, composing music and writing lyrics, and you couldn't bear to leave him alone. So, you stayed up with him, keeping him company and offering moral support.

Tonight was no different. The studio was dimly lit, save for the soft glow of the computer screen where Hongjoong was tirelessly tinkering away. You sat beside him, occasionally offering words of encouragement or fetching him a snack to keep his energy up. But as the hours passed, fatigue started to weigh heavily on your eyelids.

"You okay Y/n?" a familiar voice chimed in, bringing you back from the brink of slumber.

You blinked a few times, trying to shake off the drowsiness. "Huh? Who? What?" you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

Seonghwa chuckled softly and gestured towards you. "You fell asleep in a chair, I think you’re spending too much time with Hongjoong. You should get some real rest before you start falling asleep in random places, like him, too."

Glancing over at Hongjoong, you realized he was completely absorbed in his work, oblivious to the conversation happening around him. You laughed sheepishly, realizing Seonghwa was right. Lately, you had indeed found yourself dozing off in various places – the couch, the kitchen table, even leaning against the wall.

"It's just... I can't leave him alone when he's working so hard," you explained softly, a small smile playing on your lips.

Seonghwa's expression softened as he understood. "I know, and I'm sure Hongjoong appreciates it too. But you need to take care of yourself as well, okay? "

You nodded, grateful for Seonghwa's concern. As you settled back into the couch, you made a mental note to try and get more sleep, even if it meant leaving Hongjoong to his work occasionally. But for now, you allowed yourself to succumb to the comforting embrace of sleep, knowing that Hongjoong was just a few feet away.

• Seonghwa

Acting motherly towards the members

Seonghwa watched with a bemused smile as you flitted around the dorm, straightening pillows, picking up stray socks, and tidying up the kitchen. It was a sight he'd grown accustomed to – you, inadvertently taking on the role of the dorm mom, just like he did. It wasn't something you consciously did, but rather a habit you'd picked up from spending so much time around him and the other guys.

You had a thing for neatness and sometimes acted much like a mom in your friend group, but lately, you found yourself slipping into Seonghwa's shoes more often than not. It was something he found endearing and amusing, seeing you scold the other members for leaving their belongings strewn about or for forgetting to do their chores.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Seonghwa asked, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen.

You turned to him, a blushi tinting your cheeks, wondering just how long he had been watching you. "Oh, just tidying up a bit. It was a mess in here."

Seonghwa chuckled softly, crossing his arms over his chest. "You don’t need to do all that, you know"

You laughed, shaking your head. "I can't help it. You guys are like family to me, and I just want to take care of you."

The other members wandered into the kitchen, groaning as they saw you fussing over the cleanliness of the space.

"Come on, Y/N, we already have one Seonghwa," Yunho teased, flashing you a playful grin. "We don't need you turning into another one."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't hide the smile tugging at your lips. "I'm just trying to help keep things organized around here. Someone has to do it."

Seonghwa wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "We appreciate it, really. Just don't forget to take care of yourself too, okay?"

You nodded, leaning into his side. "Of course. But someone has to keep you guys in line."

The others laughed, knowing deep down that they were lucky to have both you and Seonghwa looking out for them – even if it meant enduring occasional scoldings for their messy habits.

• Yunho

Picking at or biting your lips

Yunho had always been the type to immerse himself completely in whatever task he was working on, often biting or touching his lips in concentration. You, on the other hand, had never noticed this about yourself until Yunho pointed it out one day.

You were sitting together at the studio, both lost in your respective work. You were so engrossed in what you were doing that you didn't even realize your hand had wandered up to your lips, fingers lightly touching and occasionally biting at them in a habit you had unknowingly picked up from Yunho.

"Y/N," Yunho's voice broke through your concentration, causing you to look up, startled. "Don’t do that," he said, nodding towards your lips.

Confused, you furrowed your brows. "Hmm? What do you mean?"

Yunho sighed, his expression turning slightly serious. "You keep biting your lips. You might hurt them if you're not careful."

You blinked, suddenly becoming aware of what you were doing. "Oh," you muttered, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck. "I didn't even realize I was doing that."

Yunho's lips twitched with amusement, but he quickly composed himself. "It's a bad habit. You should try to stop."

You couldn't help but feel a bit defensive. "Well, you do it too," you scoffed and pointed out.

Yunho's cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked away. "I... I do?"

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah. Maybe we've just been spending too much time together," you teased.

Yunho's embarrassment was palpable now, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Maybe," he muttered, unable to meet your gaze.

But despite the awkwardness, there was a warmth in your chest knowing that even your unconscious habits were intertwined with his. It was just another reminder of how close the two of you had become, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for it.

• Yeosang

Clapping while laughing

You and Yeosang had spent such a long time together and over the course of it, you became attuned to each other's habits, quirks, and gestures without even realising it. One particular habit of Yeosang's that seemed to have rubbed off on you was the way he would clap his hands when he found something particularly amusing.

The way your hands would subconsciously come together and follow the rhythm of your laughter felt natural and neither of you actually noticed how a habit, once Yeosang’s, was now shared by you.

However, that was until one lazy afternoon when Yeosang excitedly showed you his phone, "Hey, check this out," he said with a grin, pushing it towards your face.

Curious, you glanced at the screen, finding yourself staring at a Twitter thread created by an ATINY. The thread was a compilation of gifs and videos, side by side, showing you and Yeosang laughing together. What caught your attention, however, was the caption accompanying the thread: "Am I the only one who noticed that Y/N and Yeosang have the same adorable habit of clapping while laughing? #YeoY/N."

"Oh my god they’re adorable."

"They look like cute little seals when they're laughing together, it's like they're synchronised."

You couldn't help but smile and giggle as you scrolled through the thread, amused by how certain things never went unnoticed by their fans, even if you yourselves were oblivious.

Yeosang glanced over at you, his expression softening. "I guess we really do spend too much time together, huh?"

You chuckled, leaning closer to him. "Maybe. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

• San

Covering your mouth while laughing

It was just one of those habits you picked up without even realising it – covering your face while laughing. It was something you'd seen San do countless times, his hand rising instinctively to his mouth as his laughter bubbled up. Maybe it was the contagiousness of his joy, or perhaps it was the familiarity that made you do it, but whatever the reason, you found yourself unconsciously mimicking his actions more and more as time went on.

You didn't think much of it, not until one fateful day when you and San were doing a live stream together. The comments were flooding in, a flurry of emojis and supportive messages from fans all over the world. Amidst the sea of text, one comment stood out:

"OMG, look how they laugh the same! 😍 SanYn are the cutest! 💕"

Curious, you glanced at the screen, only to see San's eyes widen in realisation. He turned to you, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Looks like we've been caught," he teased, nudging you lightly.

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but there was also a warmth spreading through you, a sense of fondness at the thought of sharing such a small, intimate detail with San. "Guess we spend too much time together," you joked back, unable to suppress a smile.

But as the live stream continued, you couldn't help but notice how often you and San found yourselves laughing, your hands rising simultaneously to cover your mouths. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about the bond you shared, the way you seemed to sync up without even trying.

After the stream ended, you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to San’s cheek, you couldn't help but giggle at how much these little quirks affected you, maybe making life more comfortable along the way.

• Mingi

Making the 🥺 face

To the people outside, Mingi seemed to be very intimidating, with his deep voice and built 6ft stature but inside the comfort of his he couldn't be more different. He knew he was cute and he knew how to use it against people. One quick look sent your way with his puppy eyes and pouty lips and you would melt, at some point this habit of his rubbed off on you.

The members weren’t safe from it either, like when Seonghwa had just finished making a delicious batch of ramen for himself. The aroma wafted through the room, teasing your senses and making your stomach growl loudly. You and Mingi couldn't help but stare at the steaming bowl with longing eyes.

"Seonghwa hyung, that smells amazing," Mingi exclaimed, his eyes widening with hunger.

You nodded enthusiastically, finding yourself unintentionally mirroring Mingi's expression, your lips slightly pouting like the 🥺 emoji.

Seonghwa chuckled at your antics, shaking his head. "Sorry guys, this is just for me. I only made enough for one."

"But hyung, we're starving!" Mingi whined, his voice tinged with desperation.

You glanced at Seonghwa, your eyes pleading as you continued to unknowingly imitate Mingi's puppy-dog expression.

Seonghwa sighed, feeling the pressure of your combined adorable stares. "Oh no, I have to deal with two Mingis now, don't I?"

You and Mingi exchanged a glance before bursting into giggles, realising your unintentional synchronisation. Seonghwa couldn't help but laugh along with you.

"Fine, fine," Seonghwa relented, dividing the ramen between the three of you. "But next time, make your own!"

• Wooyoung

Smacking people while laughing

You couldn't help but laugh at the way Wooyoung told a recount of the recent Wanteez episode the boys shot, adding his own commentary in between. He always had a way of making you laugh wholeheartedly, even when you fought he would be the one to apologise first and crack a joke to make you smile. However, what you didn't realise was that you had picked up one of his habits along the way.

In the midst of your laughter, your hand instinctively swung out and smacked San's thigh, eliciting a surprised yelp from him. It wasn't until he looked at you with a mix of amusement and slight irritation that you realised what you had done.

"Oops, sorry, San!" you apologised, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you tried to suppress your laughter.

San rubbed his thigh, shooting you a mock glare. "I already have to take abuse from Wooyoung, and now you're doing it too?"

You couldn't help but giggle at his playful complaint, but Wooyoung nudged you with a grin. "Looks like my habits are rubbing off on you, huh?"

You chuckled, realising how similar you two acted these days. "I guess so. Sorry, San, I’ll try not to do that but I can’t make any promises." You winked at him.

San shook his head and scoffed at your mocking, a smile breaking through his faux irritation. "Ahh so much I have to go through,"

You and Wooyoung giggled at his words, knowing how much he loved you both the same, with the occasional physical abuse of course.

• Jongho

Scrunching your nose while smiling/laughing

As you sat on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you stumbled upon a video compilation titled "JongYn Couple Moments" ,obviously your curiosity got the better of you and you clicked on it, not fully knowing what to expect. What unfolded on the screen was definitely not what you were expecting, it sent a sudden blush creeping up your cheeks.

The video was a compilation of moments featuring you and Jongho, through the fans’ eyes, complete with dramatic commentary about how cute you two were together. Especially about the way your noses scrunched and crinkles formed around your eyes as you both laughed, with your faces making the same endearing expression.

You couldn't help but be amused as you watched, realising that you had subconsciously copied Jongho's habit of scrunching his nose when he smiled.

Suddenly, you felt a presence beside you. Glancing over, you found Jongho peering over your shoulder, his eyes fixated on the screen. As he watched the video, a wide grin spread across his face, small giggles leaving his lips.

"Wow, we really do look alike sometimes," Jongho remarked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You nodded, still giggling at the sight. "I never realized I picked up on your habit."

"It's adorable," Jongho said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. "I guess I've rubbed off on you, huh?"

You chuckled, leaning into his touch. "Looks like it. But hey, I don't mind sharing a few habits with you."

© alxtiny . Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my works on any platform in any way.

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DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

Taglist:

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[sae1549]

Head canons of the companions: Sfw/// Nsfw

Word count: 1.9k

Very random head cannons for the companions + Halsin

Shadow Heart:

—-Sfw——

•If she were to get her nails done she would get stiletto nails that are black chrome.

•I feel like she would argue with you about who gets to cuddle with your shared animal.

•She used to be an emo kid.

•I could see later if she does not become shars Dark judiciary she would change her style to something with cottagecore undertones.

•She loves to give you flowers.

•She also gets over her fear of swimming and now it is an activity she looks forward to doing with you.

•Always cold.

•Would love to have kids.

-----Nsfw below-----

•She is a switch, but prefers to do the work.

•But if you are the top best, believe she expects the princess treatment.

• Her favorite body part would have to be the stomach and thighs.

•She would be willing to have an extra partner in the bedroom, but she is mostly referring to Halsin.

•She is skilled with her hands.

•She loves to listen to all the sounds that you make.

•Very good with aftercare, either getting a towel to clean any fluids or getting water and a soft blanket. So that the two of you can cuddle and relax.

Astarion:

—Sfw—

•He loves his hair being played with.

•He also loves laying on your lap when you are reading.

•He hums when he is reading or “looking into the mirror”

•He often asks you to describe his face because he cannot see it. And if you can draw he will bashfully ask if you can draw him, mostly to see how you view the way he looks.

•Once you get into a relationship he becomes a softie only to you.

•He wants to try and knit or crochet but has no idea how to.

•He likes to hold your hand, or be at least touching you all the time in one way or another.

•He loves soft blankets and will wrap himself up in one before sitting in front of the campfire.

•Does not want kids.

-----Nsfw below-----

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

•He loves the predator/prey kink. Especially if you're willing to have your blood as the reward.

•7.5 inches. (19.05 cm) All ima say

•He loves to lightly drag his fangs down your neck before he bites you.

•Thigh guy. He can appreciate all body types, but something about plush thighs makes him want to sink his teeth into them.

•He always likes seeing your face, but not opposed to other positions. He just favors seeing you.

•He is a very caring partner, always watching and adjusting what he is doing so that you are enjoying it too.

•Man is absolutely amazing with his hands.

•Overstimulation plays a big part in your sex life, he would make sure you came 3 times to every one time.

•He likes to whisper into your ear how much he loves you while deep inside you.

Karlach:

—Sfw—

•Cuddling is a key point for relaxing

•Most of the food she likes is spicy.

•She is also very into Mead, and hard liquor.

•She always looks intimidating but literally the minute she starts talking she is the sweetest. This throws off everyone when they meet her.

•Very protective of everyone in camp. But I also want to see when fights happen.

•I believe that she has lifted Astarion by the middle of his shirt when he gets a little blood thirsty.

•She can dance like it's no one's business.

•She is the biggest flirt!!!!!!

•If you are a girl she calls you “hot mama” in passing or “hottie” as a male.

•Will forget what she is talking about in the middle of a sentence.

•Works out at 5 am every day, often going with Wyll and scratch.

•Loves kids.

-----Nsfw below-----

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

•Top

•Big mommy Karlach

•She loves sweet soft sex.

•Totally an ass girl. She will spank you any chance she gets. Sexually or non-sexually.

•Her tail is sensitive and loves when you touch it.

•Same with her horns but at the base of her horns.

•She would want to cuddle with her partner after finishing.

•She would also be great with after care, checking to make sure you are okay and that she didn’t burn you. If she had she would go into full freak out mode. Getting you anything and everything she can to make sure that it heals well.

Lae’zel:

—Sfw—

•She would be elated if you brought her a sword as a gift.

•often sighing when she was not involved enough in conversation.

•She has back pain, often asking for someone to walk or crack her back.

•Stretches often.

•Likes to work out as well, but does it around 4 to avoid everyone else but will find somewhere nice to have breakfast.

•Does not like flowers.

•Will give you a massage if you are in pain, telling you that you have been working well.

•Very Jealous.

•Her best friend is the owl bear. And you of course.

•Bae’zel

•Wants kids

-----Nsfw below-----

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

•Possessive

•Very forward with what she wants.

•Rough sex all the way.

•Likes Ass. But will never outright say that.

•Likes it when you call her name.

•Likes being kissed.

•If you have a tail she likes it if you wrap your tail around her in some way.

•Low key freaky, but nothing too extreme.

•She likes to cover your mouth if you are being too loud, as she does not want anyone to hear how well you are getting off.

•She is not very good with aftercare. She will give you water though.

Gale:

—Sfw—

•ROMANTIC

•Wants to go on a picnic with you so bad.

•He prefers eating Gloves over shoes for his magical artifacts.

•When he is lost in thought, if you are also a wizard you can see bits of weave around him. Mostly circulating his head and hands.

•He loves reading and finding new books. Will even go out of his way to talk to withers to see if he knows of any more interesting books. Sometimes withers will give them to him to read. When he gets them back there are many dog eared pages. With different nice notes for Withers.

•He writes all over his books. He even gives you one that was enchanted to tell a different story that he loved of you each time the book is opened.

•He wears glasses when he gets older.

•DILF.

•Wants kids but is scared of having any thinking he wouldn't be any good at it.

-----Nsfw below----

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

•8 inches.

•Magical, loves to incorporate magic into your sex life.

•Mage hand?

•Boob man. Does not matter the size as long as he can suck on them.

•He is amazing with his hands and his mouth. Those spells are not easy to pronounce.

•Loves to slowly undress you to build up to the moment.

•Moderately horny.

•Making love to you makes him feel like you are becoming one.

•Whispers praises to you.

•Also loves to be praised.

•Never afraid to initiate the act with you, going as far as to pulling you away from the camp to enjoy eachothers company.

•Lovesssss to hear you moan, it makes him sure that he is doing everything correctly and well.

•Breeding kink. Goodnight

Wyll:

—Sfw—

Such a sweetie.

•Loves to dance, and will ask you if he may have this dance even if there is no music.

•He would go crazy for a Bard at his side.

•Man can sing. And dance what more could you ever need.

•He is charitable. Helping anyone that he can, almost pushy about it sometimes. But he is purely doing it out of kindness.

•Karlach is his bestie. They love to shit talk Mizora.

•She would love to adopt Scratch if he could. But believes he would be better off with Gale or Shadow Heart.

•Loves drinking wine. Often getting wine drunk and giving you so many kisses you could suffocate.

•When you are sleeping together he likes sleeping on the outside incase anyone comes in he can protect you and worst case scenario you can escape.

-----Nsfw below-----

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

•8.5 inches

•He would be a boob man.

•Caring, and gentle.

•Loves getting heads, but is not opposed to giving it either.

•When getting head he would get too excited and fuck the back of your throat.

•Loud, will get very embarrassed if anyone happens to hear him.

•If you were on top and used his horns as leverage he would go wild.

•His favorite position would be missionary, so he could be closer to you and hold you in his arms.

•Needs to feel needed, often will ask for intimacy. But does not always mean bone and be done. He likes to take his time and enjoy each part.

Halsin:

—Sfw—

•Literally the sweetest man.

•Want to be the rock to everyone, and loves if anyone comes to him asking for advice.

•He would become everyone's therapist, but to talk with him he will also teach each person how to whittle a figure while talking. This leads to an excess of carving statues, surprisingly Lae’zels is the best. Making an owl bear that she let Halsin keep.

•Is basically the doctor, everyone going to him when they need healing.

•Often will find an area where he can be one with nature in the morning.

•Loves to cook, always making sure to feed everyone else before himself.

•He is a lightweight drinker. And will baby a drink for hours before finishing it.

•Likes going swimming in his bear form.

•Often going into his bear form when he is sleeping.

•Take baths in nature.

•he will hand pick flowers to give to you so that you have something beautiful from mother nature.

•Chews on pencils.

•Tests your food after Orin shows up at camp, he would rather him getting hurt than you.

•Wants kids, he would be such a good father!!!!!!!!!!

-----Nsfw below-----

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

•HUGE DICK im talking 9.5-10 inches.

•He is big and he knows it. Making sure to prep you well before doing anything.

•He will split half and half when he does it in bear form or in his normal form as long as you are okay with it.

•He is a thigh man.

•He loves stretch marks, kissing them, running his finger tips over them. He just loves them so much.

•Amazing with his hands.

•Speaks in a way that's like honey dripping from his lips. (Very sweet)

•Animalistic when doing the deed.

•Freaky, and i mean like freakyyy.

•Does not care if anyone within a 10 mile radius can hear the two of you.

•Doggy style is his go to.

•He is not opposed to an extra partner in the bedroom, hell he enjoys to the fullest as well. Everyone involved is being satisfied does not matter how long it takes.

•Aftercare is top tier!!!!!!!! He is going to sit with you for a few minutes while he heals any of the wounds that may have been afflicted while everything was happening.

•He cleans you up, and sits you in his lap while he strokes your hair. Swallowing you up in his arms and chest.

•He will want to go over what happened later on after you have recovered. To see what he can improve, what you liked and what you didn’t like. Every detail is saved in the back of his mind for another time.

•Horny ass man.

————————————————————————

This was so fun to write. I’m not the best with writing about smut but I did my best.

#bg3 #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #astarion smut #astarion #lae'zel #karlach #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #halsin #bg3 shadowheart #shadowheart #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 smut #bg3 fluff #bg3 headcanons

[shycloudkitty]

JUST A LITTLE TOUCH

Summary: You have been in a friends with benefits relationship with Leon for almost two years. After one of your *stress relief* sessions with Leon, things start to change between you both when he takes one small step in opening himself.

Pairing: RE6 Leon Kennedy! × Fem! Reader

Tags: Mentions of sex in some parts, pure fluff, drinking, angst with lots of comfort.

A/N: Hello guys! I am so so excited for my first fic ever!!! I am so happy rn. Happy new year to you all🥰🥰🥰. Hope you all enjoy this!! Don't forget to show your appreciation by liking it, commenting on it and reblogging on it. A huge thanks to @nexysworld @luniaxi @elfven-blog @kennedyswhore for encouraging me🥰🥰🥰.

Words in bold and italics are Leon thoughts. Like this…

Also guys there's only one sentence which is only in bold and not italics so be careful about it. 🤭🤭

Word count : 5.2K

The room was warm after the shared moments between you and him. Sheets crumpled, Hair messed up, scent of sweat and sex still lingering in the air a little bit. You were lying in bed sleeping and resting yourself after one of many wonderful moments you had with Leon.

Your eyes flutter open slightly and you stretched your arms a bit. As you did you realised he wasn’t lying beside you… That definitely you woke up. Even if he wasn’t that much into cuddling he still used to be beside you. You frowned and sighed tiredly then slowly sat up. Looking around the room you rubbed your face to get the sleepiness out of you. Two years of doing this and by now you could probably guess what he was doing by now.

Probably needed a drink.

That’s what he usually did…You knew after sex he tended to be a bit *disconnected* his mood used to be off. After you guys were done and saw him spacing out, you often used to hold his hand, squeezing it gently and kissing his cheek lightly. He used to give a small smile and sometimes… you did catch him blushing once in a while which was adorable.

You slowly got up from bed and stretched your arms above your head and sighed softly. You wore your shirt and your shorts. And made your way towards the living room.

There he was… Reaching up to his liquor cabinet and taking out one of his whiskey bottles. His back turned to you. Wearing one of his blue shirts and grey sweatpants. You swear you never saw that cabinet empty, sometimes it was even more stocked than his fridge.

He took one of the glasses and poured himself a drink. “Want anything to drink?” His gruff voice echoed in the room. He didn’t had to look up and turn his back to see you were awake. His senses were sharp after all.

You walk towards him and lean against the counter and smile at him. “Sure… Would love one right now…” You never liked it when he used to just get so lonely. You just wanted to help him… a little bit. It was hard not to care for a guy like him.

He sets a second glass In front of you and pours some for you. Still looking pretty unphased. He finally looks up at you and passes you the glass. You could see it in his eyes that he was there… but not there at the same time. But you knew him long enough, had an understanding of each other, even if he’s not openly emotional, he appreciates the company.

You decided to break the ice when you just saw him staring at you… spacing out a bit. You gave one of your playful smiles and in a teasing tone asked. “Why the long face? Am I really that terrible in bed?” taking a sip of your drink.

He doesn’t take well to teasing sometimes, but that gets a rare chuckle out of him. “Maybe” he teases back.

You scoff lightly, giving him an offended look and playfully say “Ouch. Didn’t know we were giving each other reviews… want me to give you one?”

He chuckles again and with a cocky smirk says. “I guess it will be 10 out of 10 considering how much I had you begging for more at the end of it.” His voice sultry.

More like 11 out of 10 but who’s counting anyways?

You scoff and look away to hide your flustered face. “You… are insufferable.” Not wanting to admit the fact he was right.

Leon chuckles for a while, his mood slightly better but after a moment he sighs and says. “Just… been thinking.” He usually didn’t admit what he was feeling at the moment always kept his true feelings and face hidden.

You look up at him and softly said “About work?” He nods and that’s all you get. He walks over to the couch and sits down with a light huff “Mmhmm”.

You sit beside him on the couch and slowly ask “Is it important or just overthinking”. He looks down at his drink, thinking. He sighs. “Bit of both, really…” He chuckles lightly. He can’t deny how right you were. It’s eating at him a bit.

There’s a stretch of silence between you two after that. Leon looking at his drink and taking a small sip of it while you sit beside him thinking how to comfort him on that. Like… What do you even say to the person who had a much rougher life than any normal person had? After much thinking, you then scoot closer to him and gently pat his back and give him a soft smile. You don’t know if that action was awkward or comforting. You looked like you were patting a sad child. But you didn’t know what else to do & you really wanted to be there for him.

He was surprised a bit, looking over at you he couldn’t help himself but smile at your action. It did help him, even a little bit. “I just…” He stops, a hint of pain in his voice. “I just wish I could tell you…everything.”

What? Did he really said that? Did he really felt like that? Your eyes widened and you stopped smiling momentarily. That was so unusual of him… You then slowly regained your composure and slowly asked him. “Oh so… do you wanna talk about it?”.

“No” He replied almost too quickly, shaking his head. “I mean…Look, I can’t.” And gulps down his whiskey in one go like it was water. He’s never quite been this… vulnerable around you before. It’s like he’s a little taken aback at his own actions.

You still smile at him and kiss his cheek lightly. “That’s okay…” He can’t help a slight blush, before looking away. “…Thanks.” God was he awkward.

He sighs, looking over at his liquor cabinet. He considers getting another drink. He gets up and glances at you briefly for a second and says. “I’m gonna…go get a refill.” “Want anything else?” He asked.

Now that you think about it, you could use something to eat. “Mmm… yeah I am a bit hungry.”

He nods and says “Hungry, huh? I’ll order us some food.” He grins a bit as he walks away, heading towards the kitchen. “We can watch a movie till it gets here.” He says, over his shoulder and pours himself another drink.

You chuckle lightly and say in a light hearted manner. “Uh huh.. A movie you say? Which one?”

Leon stops for a moment, his back still facing you and simply say. “Horror movie. I wanna scare you a bit.” You groan and he glances over his shoulder at you smiling. “Or maybe I should be the scared one?” Chuckling a bit at his own words. “I know you love horror stuff.”

No you don’t. At what part of you hiding your face behind a pillow whenever a jumpscare comes and scares the shit out of you, was loving ‘horror stuff’? You roll your eyes and look at him raising an eyebrow at him. “Oh come on…You just wanna watch me scream. That’s what you really like.”

You mentally face palm yourself as you realize what you just said and watch as he smirks and starts to say. “I mean I do make you scream whenever you are here so…”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he laughed seeing your reaction. You groaned. Him and his cheesiness. “I didn’t mean it that way and you know it… You are such a big meanie.”

He chuckled and poured himself his third drink and doesn’t turn around and sarcastically says “Am not. I’m a big softie.” A big smirk present on his face.

“And hey, I’ll let you choose the movie. So go ahead. Pick it out.” Coming back to the couch and taking his phone out to place order for two pizzas which doesn’t take long to order as he does remember your favourite. It wasn’t like this was first movie night you guys had. You used to have them whenever he was bored or wanted to keep his mind off things. Eating pizza or ramen while you rambled to him about your day while he patiently just listened to each word. Although… you both soon got distracted and moved things to the bedroom… so it will always ended on a splendid note.

You laugh and teasingly say. “Ohh… don’t give me that much power or I will make you watch a chick flick with me.”

He laughed and looked up at her and gave her a dramatically sigh. “I mean, I could suffer through it. You’re worth it.” He grins when he watches you blush and shyly look away.

He was never going to admit it out loud but he loved making you blush, watching that rose pink colour slowly filled your cheeks. He always thought that it suited you. And he didn’t even had to do much, he could compliment you anytime and you would shyly look away trying to show his words weren’t affecting you but the colour on your cheeks told him everything that needed to know.

He then shrugs and says. “But really, I’ve never been all that scared of horror.” As if to prove his point, he pulls his sleeves back a little, revealing claw marks and scars on his forearm. “I’ve been through a lot worse than a jumpscare and some spooky music.” Chuckling a bit at the end.

You bit your lip and looked at his forearm with a sense of pity. There were old scars which had faded replaced by new ones. You knew he used to work in DSO and fought bioweapons. Yeah he told you, reluctantly when you probed him about his job. But that was it. He never ever shared on what he had to go through in his job. And honestly looking at it… you really couldn’t even begin to imagine on what he had to see or face through.

And it isn’t really the first time seeing them but looking up at them close…That was different. You slowly bring your hand and gently trace his scars with your fingers. A bit curious how they were formed in the first place. You looked up at him concern visible in your eyes.

He doesn’t say a word at your touch. He notices your hesitation but was too focused on the fact that you touched them willingly. Don’t you find them ugly? It’s not like they were pretty to look at. He doesn’t often show anyone his scars, and he’s never quite let you touch them before. He looks down at you, surprised at your curiosity over them. Looking back down at your touch again, not quite knowing what to do or say. Should he have stopped you? He thinks to himself.

You then hesitantly asks. “...Is that what you always go through?” Your voice low as you tried to imagine the horrors he had to go through.

His eyes follow your touch as you continue with it. He watches you with a sort of silent disbelief as you ask your question. To him, his work is just…normal. But you look at him like you just asked him the world. He sighs and says. “I've been in plenty of bad situations, yeah,” he chuckles lightly and sips his drink. “But its… it’s what I do. Someone’s gotta do it.”

You removed your hand as he started to roll down his sleeves a bit hurriedly, hiding them away before you asked something else. You look up at him and say. “Must be hard… that’s very brave of you…” you were a bit surprised on how casual he was about all this. But all he did was shrug and reply “I can’t really say I’m brave, just doing my job. Like I said, someone’s gotta do it.”

He drains his glass, looking at it and scoffing to himself a bit and replies. “But Thanks…” sensing the topic was over you didn’t probe him further than that.

Soon his door bell rings and he gets up to receive the order. Comes back and sets down the boxes. He looks at you and raises an eyebrow. “Wanna eat and choose the movie?”

You chuckle and nod. “Sounds good…” You pass him your glass to refill it and he does that. Keeping the bottle on the coffee table as you browsed on Netflix on what to watch. “So how about conjuring..?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Pick something scary. That’s nothing.”

You frown at him and say. “Hey that’s scary…” Leon shakes his head and takes the remote. “Give me that…” and starts browsing.

You scoff and try to take back the remote and say. “No way, last time you chose hereditary and I had to sleep with lights on that night.”

Leon doesn’t give back the remote and say. “Well I won’t choose that then. What about midsommar?”

Your eyes widen and try to take back the remote again and say. “No way, give me that. I hate cult movies.”

After 10 minutes of you guys fighting on which movie to see. You both decide to watch IT. Which already has you hiding your face behind a cushion. He chuckles seeing you that way and pats your knee lightly and puts an arm around you. “Don’t worry, I won’t let that clown take you down the drain with him and make you float.”

You chuckle and teasingly say. “Aww… will you keep me safe and tucked away from him?”

Leon rolls his eyes and chuckles. He replies sarcastically. “Yeah yeah I will…be your knight in shining armor.” Looking at you with a cocky smirk which had you giggling.

You shake your head and eat your slice and so does he as you relax and watch the movie. He looks over at you as you hide your face in his shoulder when it got scary, peeking a little bit to watch the screen not wanting to miss it. He smiled to himself.

You were really so cute to him… so innocent and sweet. Sometimes all he wanted was to tuck you away in a safe place and watch over you, keeping a sweet thing like you away from every horrific things he had witnessed.

“Are you cozy?” he asks suddenly. But your body language gives it away-he can tell you’re comfortable. He feels his heart pound in his chest as he feels something fuzzy inside. What am I even doing?. It was clear that he was enjoying this too but he really didn’t wanna show that he was enjoying this too much. You smile and nod.

“Yeah It’s really cozy… you make a really cozy pillow you know.” Chuckling softly at him. He chuckles too finding your description of him amusing.

“Oh am I?” His gaze returns to the screen. He was definitely trying to be flirty as he felt his cheeks warm up a bit. But a nagging feeling deep inside his mind just keeps eating him. This is…dangerous. Can’t stay like this for longer.

While his mind runs wild with all the chaotic thoughts bubbling over while you were looking at the same forearm which had rolled up a bit giving another peek at his scars. You couldn’t help but get distracted by it. His whole attitude about how this was just work and how aloof he was about the whole ordeal. It just didn’t sit right with you. He couldn’t be numb to all of this… or was he? You think for a moment. He never got this close. Like never. And you never forced him either, it’s not like you were obligated to know about his work or nightmares…or his demons.

Your curiosity bubbled over and slowly brought your hand and shifted his sleeves a bit more to look at them. Doing it slowly so to not disturb him in that moment. And gently tracing small, slow circles on one of the scars.

His eyes widened a bit and looks down at your slow touch, calming him down almost instantly and pulling him to reality and away from his drowning thoughts. Your gentle touch, the circles you create. He feels a warm sensation run up his arm, and he suddenly feels… odd. He looks over at you, but can’t meet your gaze for more than a few seconds before he looks back down. He stares at your hand touching his arm, not moving away or resisting. His heart pounds faster. He doesn’t feel cold anymore. He feels too warm. It’s hard not to melt under your touch. You then ask him softly. “You never allowed me to touch them like this before...” your gaze fixed at the scars.

This will never be ‘normal' to you. Will never make you think like this wasn’t a big deal or that the things he used to do weren’t ‘brave' or that it was 'just a job’. Even lasting this long in this field was an achievement in itself. This job took so much away from him… but he’s still standing... But at what cost?

“I didn’t want you to be worried, that’s all. Like I said, it’s… normal to me. Like any other day.” He tries to brush it off and return his focus to the movie. But he can’t help but find himself sneaking glances at his arm. And your fingers making slow, even circles on his skin. He feels his stomach sinking, but he doesn’t fight it like he usually would…

You shake your head and look up at him. Biting your lip a bit and softly whispering. “No… I mean… you didn’t let me touch them like this… is that the only reason you didn’t let me touch them before?”

Leon swallows, realizing what you’re trying to say. He looks back at your hand looking at your loving touch, his heart pounding in his chest was not helping him either. And he wonders If she’s this intimate with me… Why did I try to shut it down earlier? Is this how it feels?

“Were you… Afraid? That I would judge you?” Your soft voice bringing him to reality once more and making him think about that answer. Torn between telling you the truth or lying to avoid being vulnerable further and be dismissive about it.

But maybe it was your voice that gave his poor soul a hope that someone gave a damn about him, your eyes which were curious but also concerned for him or your soothing touch which had some miraculous power to be able to quiet down his anxiety and trauma driven thoughts. So he opens up. Just once.

He's silent for a few more moments and nods. “… yeah. I was.” He says after a while, his voice quiet. He looks down at your fingers again thinking why would you even bother making him feel better about himself. “You've never been close… like this with me… so… intimate.” He murmurs. “I was scared to let you get this close, I… I wanted it. But I…” He doesn’t need to complete that sentence, you can guess what he means.

He feels a soft peck on his cheek, feeling your soft lips lingering there for a moment. Just a little kiss to calm down his nervousness. And it works… he’s distracted that you did it but also so grateful. He looks over at you, still not used to expressing your attraction to him in these intimate ways. He blushes slightly, a look of soft confusion on his face once more, but he doesn’t seem to mind this time.

“Right…” He mumbles, glancing back at the screen and getting shy. He was so awkward he couldn’t express himself like you could but he also wanted to show you he cared so he brought you close just a little bit as your head was still resting on his shoulder and leaned into you slightly. It’s only a bit. Just enough to get a response, but not too much that he’s pushing the line.

You noticed his efforts and looked up at him with a smile. You couldn’t help but admire the way his hair fell perfectly across his face some of it concealing his blush but just enough to reveal he was blushing and was shy. And his icy blue eyes that shows that he isn’t completely numb to everything life has to offer…

You scoot closer to him almost cuddling with him. And squeeze his arm gently and touches his scars again but this time drawing small stars on them. “Is this uncomfortable?”

He tries not to make a sound afraid that he might ruin this moment. As he feels all these new feelings flow through him making his heart skip a few beats. His body language is soft and comfortable with you.

He swallows and shakes his head. “…no. It’s nice.” He mumbles. He doesn’t move away, or push your hand off him. He then looks down at your hand drawing stars around his scars and sighed softly. A soft smile on his face. He then looks back at the screen but his thoughts focused on you. The movie was almost finished but you both continued to watch it in comfortable silence. He’s always been a nervous guy, but these nerves are the good kind.

You then slowly stop drawing stars and gently hold his hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and he feels like his heart could burst out of his chest right now. Feeling your skin on his, your warmth flowing into his soul. He looks at the movie, then at you. How did we get here? When did things… change? Is this for the better or worse? Why even care for a monster like him? He wonders. He looks at your hands intertwined in his. And he swallows hard. He doesn’t pull away, or move your hand. He lets it happen.

“Can I ask you something?” your soft voice comes through and he looks down at you. He nods without hesitation, his head still facing the screen even if the movie was finished and credits were rolling. “Go ahead.” He says, his voice low but still soft.

You clear your throat. You were a bit nervous to ask this questions cause well…it was personal. “You know you don’t have to answer it or anything but I am just curious…Umm…On your missions. Did it ever feel like you won’t return?”

He thinks for a moment, then softly chuckles. “Once or twice…” He mumbles still not facing you. “But I guess when you do this every day… you get used to it.” He swallows hard and sighs. “I have…considered it before though.” He says after a few moments. What would my funeral be like? He had wondered before. Would you even care enough to show up for the last time? Will there be other people there singing how great he was like they did now or would he be tossed aside like trash and replaced by someone young and better, forgotten by all of his peers? Would you just… move on to someone else without giving him a second thought? He shook his head to toss aside those thoughts but he couldn’t. They plagued his mind day and night like a curse.

You nod listening to his words, seeing him space out once more in his thoughts. You then softly say. “And what did it felt like… when you actually returned home? When you thought it was probably your last day on earth… What did it felt like when you came back?” you imagined he was relieved of course but you wanted to listen to him.

You were probably the first person who actually cared enough to ask what he ‘felt’ after & during those awful, god-forsaken missions. You were also the first one who wanted to listen to his story who wouldn’t dismiss him saying ‘this is part of the job’ or ‘everyone goes through this… suck it up’. No you were more kind hearted than that and he couldn’t help but slowly succumb to that kindness.

He swallows hard, glancing at you. He closes his eyes for a moment to think about your question, your hand still intertwining his. Giving him something to ground himself and calm him down. He sighs, and opens his eyes again.

“Relief.” He says simply.

“Relief that I’m not dead. Joy that I came back alive. And… and…” He pauses for a moment, searching for the right words – only to fail to find them. He looks down again looking at the joined hands.

You smile from his words and try to complete his sentence. “Grateful?”

He looks at you, considering your words for a moment. He looks back down and swallows hard and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, grateful. Definitely.” He chuckles, his voice soft and quiet. “And…” He pauses for a moment and adds. “Sometimes a little guilty.” He whispers, looking back at the screen.

That catches you a bit off guard. After all why would he feel guilty when he came back alive? Not expecting him to say of all things. And simply ask “Why?”

“Some of my teammates… they… never made it back. And I should be with them.” He glances back at you. “But I don’t want to be…” He says after a few moments.

He needs a hug. He looks at you, wanting to bury his face in your neck and wrap his arms around your waist and hold you tightly till your warmth envelops him and make him feel safe. But he feels awkward asking for it. Like…would you consider him a weirdo if he asked you for it? He looks away from you and tries not to show the fact he needed someone to just hold him.

You squeeze his hand gently not knowing how far you can go… afraid that he would pull back at any moment after opening so much to you. And softly said. “I am sorry about that…”

He looks down at your hand, your soft skin was a direct contrast when compared to his. His hands calloused and rough but that didn’t stop you from being gentle with him. He then nods, “Thanks.” He says softly and sighs a bit in relief. Feeling a bit better after talking about it.

But he couldn’t help but realize that he was falling for you just like this? And it all felt… so nice? Is that how it feels when you fall in love with someone?

You then look up at him and clear your throat once more. This time you more nervous cause you had a *small* confession to make. “Uhh… by the way… just so you know. I do care, wondering when you will be back. I always wish you come back in one piece.” A blush rising in your cheeks after saying that.

Leon looked down at you surprised and after few beats of silence he softly asks. “Really?” His expression soft and vulnerable.

Honestly, it was a bit hard for you to open up too. You both have never been so… emotionally close like this during the time you have been together. So it’s a bit unnerving but if he could open up so much, you could too.

With a smile you replied. “Well yeah… I mean who would tease me with their awful cheesy jokes when we have movie nights like these…” Trying to make the moment light-hearted with a bit of teasing.

Leon couldn’t help but laugh a bit from the comment and roll his eyes and says. “Yeah? That’s what I am for? Make you laugh with my ‘cheesy jokes'?”

You chuckled and playfully nodded. “Yes… obviously.”

“I can’t believe you are using me just for jokes.” Playfully narrowing his eyes at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh “Well… I can’t help it. I just love your jokes which make me roll my eyes and groan at how stupid they are...”

After a beat, you both share a laugh and Leon playfully says. “You are more cheesy than me.”

“Your fault by the way…” Making Leon smirk a little bit.

You rest your head back on his shoulder and sigh contentedly.

It feels better now that you both have talked about your ‘feelings'. Much more relaxed… Maybe feelings don’t have to be complicated. Walls that you both made back then to protect oneself from a possible heartbreak were slowly crumbling down and you didn’t seem to mind it and neither did he.

Leon sighs and softly says. “Thank you… By the way… I know I am not easy to be with…” Holding you closer and caressing your arm gently.

You shake your head and reply softly. “No, it’s not that… it’s okay. I am actually… okay…with how you are.”

“Really?” He asks, with glancing at you look at your expression. He swallows, his heart racing once more.

You bring your intertwined hands closer and press a kiss to the side of his hand and smile at him. “Yeah… I never found you difficult to be with. I am more myself when I am with you…” Your own heart races at your another small confession, which was huge to him.

Leon swallows, he was sure that you made his heart stop with your words and that little kiss. He looks away from you for a moment and takes a deep breath then looks back at you.

“You don’t find me difficult? A bit too much to be with? Am I…too much?” He asks, his words quiet. He doesn’t want to sound too needy but he is. But there’s no hiding that right now.

You then shake your head and gives him a small smile. “No… I mean.. I get it you know… your job is difficult and you need to be at your best at every moment… But even then, you are just the right amount.”

He blushes a deep red and tries to maintain an eye contact with you but can’t help but shy away. Can’t help but a surge of emotions flowing through his so called cold heart. Finding himself looking at your lush lips- and he struggles to say anything at the moment.

“Just the right amount? Not too much… not too little?” Leon asks cautiously still finding your words hard to believe. Some one who didn't find him too much. It had to a be a dream.

Is this real? Can this be real?

“Yeah you are…” You answer him honestly. And cup the side of his face and caress his jaw gently, softly whispered. “You are perfect to me.”

My heart…

“Can… can I kiss you?” He whispers to you.

“Yes…” You whispered back.

He doesn’t hesitates as soon as you say yes, He leans in and kisses you. Pressing his lips gently against yours. He’s so close you can feel the heat from his body as you kiss. It wasn’t like you never kissed each other… But this one gave you both intense butterflies and made your heart pound like crazy in your chest.

My god…

He pulls away after a moment, his lips soft. He looks back at you, your eyes meet his and tries to speak something but can’t find anything to say. Opening his mouth trying to form words after he kissed the love of his life but words just got stuck in his throat.

You smiled and cupped his face and kisses him on the forehead and softly whisper. “It’s okay… I know… Just relax with me for a moment…”

Wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly and he does the same. Hugging you back just as tightly and resting his forehead against yours. Kissing you softly on the forehead before softly whispering.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

PHEW. God I am nervous about this one... Wish you guys a very happy new year and enjoy the holidays. And I really hope this fanfic made your day! 🥰🥰🥰

Until next time❤

-Bella

#resident evil #resident evil 6 #leon kennedy × reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon re6 #leon vendetta #leon re4 #leon re2 #leon re4r #older leon kennedy #infinite darkness #Leon Kennedy × you #leon kennedy angst #I need to tuck this guy's ass to sleep fr and give him loads of forehead kisses😭😭😭 #Need Leon to watch a movie with me and hold me like that😭😭😭😭 #death island leon #bella fics #leon scott kennedy

[bluerosegardens]

hello! Is it okay if you write dorm leaders reaction to a heavily energetic reader please, if you don’t want to Idm ^^

of course, anon! thank you so much for requesting, i hope you like it!

dorm leaders + gn!energetic!reader

c/w: i can't write for jamil very well but i tried, leona is annoyed by you but respects you still, can you tell i can’t write for vil. malleus’s part is like 60x more romantic than the rest of the characters sorry 🤧

notes: ok so i have only completed book 3, but ive gotten plenty of spoilers about the next four books so i think i wrote for them pretty well just a heads up tho

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS find you a little hard to keep up with. He himself has his outbursts and episodes like anybody else, but that also comes with anger, so he does his best to suppress them. But you? No, you were always this way, and in a positive manner. It almost reminded him of Kalim, except that you could handle yourself and seemed to be relatively smart, seeing that you were passing your classes as a non-magical person in a magical school.

Your excitability sometimes led to you have an evident, though not purposeful, disregard for the rules. It was irksome, yes, and it took a lot of restraint from him not to lash out at you as much as he may at Ace or Deuce—he still feels guilty from his Overblot, and besides, you’re a lot easier to stand at times than compared to those two. But, overall, he still manages, opting to instead recite the rule you broke tamely, and receiving an understanding nod from you that makes him pleased. Quietly, he’ll let out this small sigh, a symbol of his appreciation for your respect of his strict ways. It isn’t easy for him to change, and while he’s trying his best, it’s nice to know he has somebody who’s willing to comply with the rules for his sake.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR somehow gets even sleepier in your presence. Just the sight of you having so much energy makes him lethargic. Why were you always so peppy? How were you always so peppy? It didn’t make any sense to him. You being this way wouldn’t be so much of an issue if you weren't so persistent. But here you were, shaking his shoulder in an attempt to wake him, and here he was, tired and annoyed and letting you drag him to his classes just to shut you up. It was like having a brighter, more talkative version of Cheka that actually knew what made him tick. It was irritating, but if he really hated it so much, why'd he always comply and go along with you? He'd never admit it, not in a million years, but he has this respect for you after all you've done for NRC, so he finds it best to give into your wishes, no matter how childish you seem. Because he knows that you aren't. He's seen it play out with every single Overblot. You're a lot more clever than you look, Herbivore, and he gives credit where credit is due.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO has to deal with Floyd on the daily, so it's not like this is anything new to him. If anything, it's better, considering your energy doesn't take the form of violence, like a certain Leech twin. At first, Azul did mistakenly assume your energy to be included with stupidity, which was a grave error on his part, when he discovered your scheme to destroy his contracts. In fact, he really thought you to be dumb enough to forget to even drink the water breathing potion before you went underwater to the museum. He was harshly incorrect, however, and so now he deals with the price of having to put up with your bounciness. You visit the Mostro Lounge quite often, helping out for an extra profit where you could and checking up on Azul, despite his protests against it. He's internally thankful, somewhere deep down, but it makes him embarrassed to admit it.

JAMIL VIPER is tired of this treatment. What did he ever do to deserve this? Is this punishment for his ill thoughts toward Kalim he's harbored for so many years? Why'd a Kalim Part Two have to come along? And hang around the Scarabia dorm so much? He was tired, over it, and so done with this crap. At the very least, you're not irredeemably dumb, and you're able to handle and care for yourself. You've made that quite evident from your life in Ramshackle to the way you've dealt with numerous overblots. He's surprised someone of your.. nature.. could be so responsible. So, as a minor thanks for not being completely stupid, he does his very best to.. avoid you. Why? Well, because even though you're tolerable, he'd prefer to not have a complete outburst of anger at you, fueled by Kalim's irresponsibility and the two of your energetic natures combined. So, consider this a favor. He's trying to be considerate, let him do what he needs to do.

VIL SCHOENHEIT is intrigued, not annoyed, but not overjoyed, either. Epel’s a handful already, so now that he’s taking on yet another project, he’d prefer it if you were a little more compliant than the purple haired first year. He understood it felt difficult to sit still for a while, but just try for him, okay? Otherwise he finds it rather endearing. He thinks it’s cute, the way you get excited to see him all the time. It’s flattering, definitely. He just wishes you'd sit still while he paints your nails, potato.

IDIA SHROUD is overwhelmed please leave him alone why are you so wild god help him. He’s already constantly afraid of Kalim and Cater jumping him, now he’s gotta worry about another secret THIRD threat? this is NOT fun he NEVER should have exited his room WHY did he let Ortho drag him around today. You kind of scare him into attending classes. Though he guesses (?) he’s appreciative of having another person who seems so enthusiastic about games like he is. But please don’t scare him like that or else he WILL be going into conniptions.

MALLEUS DRACONIA finds it interesting, adorable and very fascinating. He’d adore you regardless of what you were like, but this is just so endearing to him. It’s one thing that people seem to get iffy around him, whether that be out of respect or fear or both. But you don’t seem to be overly respectful of him, nor afraid. It might seem like a death wish to most, but in your case? You were too enthralled with the current task of running up to him excitedly every time you saw him to even give it any thought. And that is what he appreciates and desires so much out of you. It brings a smile to his lips every time you bound outside of Ramshackle at night to walk with him, or when you have this big grin on your face as you talk about something that interests you. He couldn’t ask for it any other way, really.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x mc #twst x yuu #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland x mc #malleus x reader #azul x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #idia shroud x reader #jamil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #leona kingscholar x reader

[xrollingmyeyesx]

OVERWORKED

pairing: Aonung x Metkayina!Reader x Neteyam, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

summary: You're a stressed and overworked healer; Aonung and Neteyam are constantly bugging you at work. When you blow up at them, they offer a helping hand.

warnings: smut, praise, dumbification kinda, threesome with my favorite boys 💕

Notes: I know this isn’t an innocence update, but I figured I’d give y’all something just waiting in the drafts! 💕 lots of love. As always, reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated!

“You always seem so stressed, Y/n.” Tsireya mused one day in the healers tent. “You should take a rest day.” 

Easy for her to say. She hadn’t been up all night for the 5th day in a row. 

First, it had been a sudden stomach illness from spoiled food. Several people became ill, and you spent the night cleaning puke and forcing them to drink water. Then it was sea flu, passed between the younger members of the clan. The youngest were among the most fragile, so they had to stay under careful watch. Night after night, something kept you from the comfort of your bed. 

The day time was just as busy. 

When you weren’t bombarded with people seeking your help, you worked to replenish the stores of balms and elixirs that had been used up after the last hunting trip. Somehow, every hunter managed to come back with some type of wound, ranging from small lacerations to a brutal, but accidental, knife wound. 

You were the best healer the Metkayina had; So good that Ronal, the Tsahik, often requested your help with difficult wounds or ailments. 

If you were anyone else you would take the day off, but you were you. You were sought out at all times, even when you weren’t supposed to be working. No day off was truly a day off. 

“I am just tired.” You replied to Tsireya, mixing up a balm for a new mother in the clan. She was still experiencing great pains from the birth, and you hoped to ease it as best you could. 

You really did love your job, too. You loved caring for people and being able to relieve their pain. 

It was just so consuming. At times it felt like all you did was work, and you were quickly burning out with each sleepless night.

A muffled voice came from the tent's entrance, and you turned your back as Tsireya greeted the newcomer. 

“Skxawng, what did you do?” She admonished.

You knew just from her tone that it must have been Aonung who’d come through. And where Aonung went, so did Neteyam. You’d had a bit of a crush on the both of them, but never pursued it. After all, if you didn't have time to sleep, you definitely didn't have time to date.

You sighed deeply, your shoulders sagging from the stress of the day. You wanted to just have one, relaxing night to forget about your job. But you doubted it would be any time soon.

“It is actually my fault,” Neteyam admitted to Tsireya. “I got distracted during sparring.”

Now that was interesting. Rarely did Neteyam falter. He was a worthy warrior, and you’d never seen him lose to anyone but Aonung. Not that it proved anything, Neteyam had won over him just as much as he’d lost to him. 

You turned towards them, averting your gaze as you added new components to the balm. It was a thick yellow paste now, and you needed it to turn a soft cream color. You sat on the floor of the tent, diligently mixing and watching for the color change. 

“Just sew it up,” Aonung huffed in his normal grumpy tone. 

He had a deep cut right across his bicep, deep enough to see the lower layers of skin peeking out. Ouch. It bled freely, dripping down his arm. He would need stitches, at least 6, and it would be especially painful in that specific area. 

“Let me get a needle,” Tsireya turned to rummaged through the suture supplies. 

“No, I want Y/n to do it.” Aonung stated, as if you would drop what you were doing to come to his aid. 

You raised a brow at him from your position on the floor. You were clearly busy with something, and Tsireya was just as capable of stitching him up as you were. And she was his sister, he should trust her implicitly. 

You voiced your contempt aloud. “Tsireya can sew your cut, Aonung.”

He scowled, and behind him you saw Neteyam crack a smile. “You do them better.”

That wasn’t true. You may have been faster at stitching, but you had the exact same technique as Tsireya because you’d both had the same teacher: her mother. 

Tsireya found the supplies she needed and rolled her eyes at her brother. “Aonung, do not be stubborn. Come here.” She sat across from you, looking at him expectantly. 

“I wanted Y/n.”

What is up with him? He barely talked to you normally, communicating mainly in grunts and letting Neteyam translate. And now he wants to demand you help him, when you're literally in the middle of something else, and his sister is readily available to help? 

You scowled. You were in no mood to have him order you around like you were some servant. You had a job to do: help people, which you were actively doing. Tsireya was right there!

“I’m busy.” You dismissed him with a wave of your hand.

“Y/n.” He growled, as if that would make you do it. 

You whipped your head to face him, baring your teeth in a sharp hiss.

“I said no, Aonung! I am doing something for someone else, and I will not put it down just because you are the son of Olo’eyktan and think you deserve special treatment.” You glared at him, rising to your feet. “Your sister is perfectly capable of sewing you up, and I am tired of your shit.”

You whipped back around, your long curls whipping across your back as you stomped out of the room and to the back of the tent, taking the mixing bowl with you. Fuck him if he thought you’d play favorites with your patients. 

Fucking asshole. 

Later, you would chastise yourself for lashing out like that. Aonung was rude sometimes, but you shouldn't have taken your own stress out on him. 

Maybe Tsireya was right. 

You did need to relax. And you needed to find a way to de-stress so you weren’t taking out all your frustrations on other people. 

…..

A few days later, after some convincing from Tsireya, you decided to visit the hot springs along the edge of the island. You desperately needed to get away for a bit. It helped that a large grove of trees and a rock formation created a natural barrier, giving the area some semblance of privacy away from prying eyes. 

You waited until the sun set before leaving, making sure to keep quiet. It’s not that you would get in trouble for being out, but you didn’t want to face any questions about where you might be going. The hot springs weren’t too far from your own tents, so the walk was brief. 

The spring was small, but not enough to deter you from using it. You could probably lay down flat against the bed and touch both sides. The forest floor faded into stone around the pool, creating a ledge that dropped down into steaming water. 

You undressed and gingerly stepped down, and immediate relief flooded your senses. The spring was hot enough to sting slightly, but not so much as to cause pain. You figured your skin would be burned a soft pink by the end of your bath. 

You washed your face first, attempting to wipe the weariness from your eyes. Your hair was next, and you dipped under the water to soak it. You washed it carefully, parting it into sections and finger-combing each one out.

Your arms burned by the time you finished with your hair, and you sat along the edge of the pool where a protruding ledge had created a makeshift bench. You leaned back against the wall, your body slipping beneath the soothing water.Eyes closed, you allowed your muscles to loosen one by one until the tension had eased. 

Usually when you showered, it was a quick affair. You had places to be and things to do, so bathing for long periods of time wasn’t possible. The act of bathing had become less of a relaxing activity and more of a quick scrub; A necessity rather than a luxury. 

“You shouldn’t be out alone this late, Y/n.” A deep voice chided, starting you from your peaceful moment as you whipped around quickly, pushing off the bench defensively. 

Neteyam leaned against one of the trees with his arms crossed over his chest. He was bathed in shadows, and you could just barely make out his bright, amber eyes. You dropped the defensive stance. Neteyam might have been scary at times, but he wouldn’t hurt you.

His eyes shifted, dipping slightly. You followed his gaze down, only to remember you were completely naked, and your upper half was exposed above the water. Flushing, you scrambled to cover your chest, crossing your arms over them. You didn’t have time to wonder if he found it strange for you to hide when your people had no stigma against nakedness.

“What are you doing here?” You accused, stepping back. Had he followed you out here? What could he have been doing so late?

He pursed his lips and tilted his head at you in study. “I was just out for a walk and saw you leaving the village,” He uncrossed his arm and stepped forward out of the shadows.“I wanted to apologize for the other day. Aonung behaved poorly.”

Strange, that he would apologize for his friend. Even more strange that he would apologize when it had been you who’d lost their temper. 

“There is no need to apologize, Neteyam. I should not have been so quick to anger.” You spoke softly, and then, believing the conversation was over and he would leave, you turned your head dismissively. 

Neteyam, however, was not done speaking. “Aonung was being stubborn, like usual. He did not mean to upset you.”

You rolled your eyes, sinking further into the water so you could drop your hands from your chest. If this conversation was going to continue, you couldn't just stand there exposed. 

“I am well aware of Aonung’s stubbornness. It comes from being the oldest, I think.” You replied thoughtfully. 

The foliage behind Neteyam ruffled as something moved behind it. A second later, a large, blue body stepped out from the darkness. 

“Have you been watching me, minyu?” 

Aonung’s sudden appearance immediately put you on edge, and you subconsciously took another step back. 

You should have known he would be there. He was Neteyam’s best friend, and the two were never far from each other. Where one went, the other followed. 

“Aonung,” You addressed him cautiously, your face flushing at the accusation. How arrogant he must be to think you would spend your free time watching him. You may have enjoyed the occasional view, but you didn’t have the energy to pursue anyone in that way. 

He was attractive, of course, but he’d never been anything but platonically cordial to you. Which made sense because the only time you ever saw him, outside of clan events, was when he came to you to be healed. 

You were so distracted by Aonung’s accusation that you almost skimmed right past what he had called you.

Minyu.

It was a type of lily that grew near the southern part of the reef. The leaves were very sweet, almost addicting, but they were hard to get. A person would have to climb several reef walls to reach their growing site, and risk falling if they failed. It was a delicacy that most would avoid risking their life for. 

And you knew from Tsireya that Aonung was particularly fond of the plant. He was one of the few who scaled the walls regularly to get a taste of the ripe flower. 

What a strange thing to call you.

He grinned, sky blue eyes taking in the scene. The water didn’t do much to conceal you, but the darkness helped some. The only source of light was the soft glow of moss on the outer rocks. 

Aonung walked to the edge of the pool and peered over. Then he began to do something weird. He began to untie his necklaces. He let them fall to the ground, and then he untied the laces of his cumberbund, his warrior's vest. 

Oh, Eywa. He wasn’t going to…

“Neteyam,” He called over his shoulder, eyes locked with yours as he spoke. “I think we should have a bath as well.” His voice carried over the water, and you inhaled sharply. 

He was going to get in with you. They were both going to get in with you.

It was bad enough they were there interrupting the only peace and quiet you’d had in months, but now they were going to invade your space too? The two could be cocky at times, but never out right mean. And it was clear by how tense you’d become that they weren’t welcome there.

That you didn’t want them there, regardless of the tingling at the base of your tail and the stupid, quick beating of your heart. 

Or so you tried to convince yourself as the two men stripped their clothing off. 

You couldn’t even ask them to leave without exposing whatever miniscule feelings you had for them. It was completely normal for Na’vi to be naked in front of each other. And if it was anyone else, you’d have no issues at all. 

But it wasn’t anyone else. It was them. 

Unease curled in your gut at the idea of sitting in this pool and bathing with them sitting only a few feet away. Not only would you not get the quiet you’d been seeking out, but you would be uncomfortable the whole time. There was no way you would be able to relax with both sets of piercing eyes watching you.

“Staring is rude, Y/n.”

You narrowed your eyes at Aonung and scowled. “Yeah, well, so are you.” 

Okay, maybe not the best comeback, but you were a little distracted with the two semi-naked men basically giving you a peep show. They were both down to their loincloths, and Aonung had busied himself with tying back his hair. 

He quickly tied the long locks in a knot on his head and moved to untie the only thing keeping him decent. You attempted to turn, but not nearly quick enough, catching a glimpse of what is unmistakably his cock in your peripheral vision. 

You squeezed your eyes shut. 

Aonung was incredibly irritating, but he was also very, very hot. 

One of them laughed behind you, and then twin splashes and the rocking of waves signaled they had joined you in the water. You refused to turn, your shoulders tense as you stared at the mossy rock in front of you. 

Don’t think about them naked. Don't think about them naked. 

“Perhaps I should leave,” You muttered, after the repetition failed to erase the mental images you had already conjured.  

“Stay,” Aonung ordered, and you shivered as your back straightened. 

You hated how your body reacted to him. The traitorous bitch didn’t get the memo that you were supposed to be angry at him, not horny for him. 

“Please,” Neteyam added. At least one of them had manners. 

The rational part of you told you to leave, to jump out of the pool and make a dash for your home. Yes they’d get an eyeful, but at least you would be out of this awkward situation. It was the better option, the more logical option. 

Another more insistant part of you told you to stay. You were there first and you deserved to relax, even if you had to deal with the two assholes. And even if it was awkward and they irritated you the whole time, at least you had new material for the nights when your hand was the only respite you got from the grueling day. 

On those nights, the men in your fantasies were much less annoying. 

“I’ll stay,” You relented. 

A minute passed where nothing was said, and you stood tensely as apprehension grew. Maybe you shouldn’t stay. Maybe they were only telling you to stay out of politeness, and now things were weird because you hadn’t gotten the hint? Maybe they–

“Y/n, are you going to turn around or is there something particularly interesting over there?” Neteyam teased.

Right. Don’t be awkward. 

You dipped lower into the water to cover your chest before facing them. You might have decided to stay, but that didn’t mean you were ready to bare your whole body to them.

“Thank you, sevin .” 

You were sure Neteyam hadn’t meant it, but the words sounded strangely close to a purr. The deep rumble had a shocking sizzle of heat shooting straight to your core, and you hoped they hadn’t noticed your flustered reaction. So distracted with appearing nonchalant, you didn’t even realize Neteyam had called you pretty. 

Aonung and Neteyam sat on the ledge you had been on before they surprised you. They were splayed out, Aonung’s broader form taking up more of the space. They were so pretty together, like a tapestry of varying blues all woven together to perfection. You were completely captivated, watching them with a keen interest. 

Strangely, Aonung’s arm was thrown over Neteyam’s shoulder. It created a strange sense of intimacy you’d never seen from the pair. You had never given it much thought, but maybe they were closer than they let everyone believe. 

“Y/n.” 

You startled out of your ogling, darting your eyes up to meet Aonung’s. “Yes?”

He grinned in a way that bared his fangs, the sharp point digging into full lips. “Neteyam asked you a question.”

You flushed, fidgeting with your hands below the water. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was just thinking.”

The knowing look on Neteyam's face said he knew exactly what you’d been thinking about, but he said nothing about the rosy tint to your cheeks. He repeated the question, asking if you usually came to the hot springs late at night. 

The way they watched you made it hard to think. They looked at you like they were reading every glance, making note of every little twitch of your ears. It made your skin itch. It was almost as if they were looking for something, and if the glances they shared were any indication, you were pretty sure they had found the answer they were looking for.

“Rarely. I do not have time during the day to come for a bath, and usually by night I am so tired I fall asleep before I can make it out of my home. I usually just try to squeeze in a quick shower at the falls.” 

Neteyam tilted his head. “But you were not tired today?”

You sighed, picking at your nail beds. “I am very tired, but I thought I would maybe relax a bit,” You shot him a pointed look. “You know, get away from other people.”

Neteyam laughed, and held his hands up in mock surrender. “Fair.”

You managed a small smile back. Maybe they weren’t so bad all the time. 

“Why are you so tired, Minyu?” 

You shifted your gaze to Aonung. He seemed confused, as if there was no reason you could possibly be so busy that you didn’t have time to bathe. 

“I am just busy, that's all. I spend all day with other people, with the elders and Ronal, and all the people who need my help. Healing and studying and teaching,” You looked anywhere but at them. “From sunrise to sunset, I have people depending on me to help them, to take care of them. And I love helping them,” You nodded, as if to reassure yourself. “Really, I do. But sometimes… Sometimes I think it would be nice to not have to think sometimes. To have someone take care of me, for a change.”

A quiet stillness fell over your trio as your admission settled in. 

Regret quickly flooded you at having just admitted something so personal. You hadn’t meant to overshare, but the words just spilled out of you like a flood. Embarrassment and dread filled your gut and you swallowed harshly. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean–” You started to explain your rambling. 

“Do not apologize,” Aonung barked, and you sucked in a breath at the bite in his words.

His mouth was pressed in a hard line, like he was thinking deeply. You could just make out Neteyam’s hand under the water, rubbing soothingly on Aonung’s leg. You had a sneaking suspicion the two were not just friends. 

Neteyam glanced up at his friend before turning to you. “You could have asked us, Y/n.” 

You crinkled your nose in confusion. “Asked you what?”

Neteyam sighed, but Aonung butted in before he could speak. “You could have asked us to take care of you.”

The laugh bubbled up out of you before you could control it. “And you would take care of me?”

“Yes,” Neteyam answered, as if that was obvious. 

The dark glint in Aonung's eyes could mean anything, but paired with the smirk on Neteyam’s face, you were pretty sure you knew what he meant by ‘take care of you.’ The picture it conjured had your skin heating and a fuzzy feeling grew in the pit of your stomach. It was unease, but leaning more towards something else… Anticipation. Need. Excitement. 

“I thought you didn’t like me?” You were sure they didn’t like you. Maybe they liked irritating you, but they didn't like you. 

Neteyam smiled. “We like you enough.”

A minute of silence passed and you briefly wished that the earth would swallow you whole. You had no idea how to respond to him. Maybe you had imagined the tension you felt towards them. 

“You don’t want to think?” Aonung asked, and you looked up from where you’d been fidgeting. 

You sighed, slapping your hands against the surface of the water. “Yeah, that probably sounds stupid.”

Neteyam studied you. “It’s not stupid, Y/n. You need not think, to let someone else do the thinking for you.” He shrugged. “There’s no shame in that, sevin.”

You flushed at him calling you pretty, and squeezed your thighs together under the water as discreetly as possible as the words traveled straight to your clit. There was no denying the sexual undertone this time. 

“Uhm,” Your mouth fell open. You shouldn’t like the insinuation. You were an independent woman, but the idea of handing over the reigns, of letting someone else do the thinking? You breathed out softly. 

“Oh?” Aonung smirked from next to Neteyam. “I think she likes that.” He leaned forward. “Is that what you need, minyu? You need someone to help you empty that pretty head, is that it?”

Your eyes blow wide at his words. How do you even reply to that?

Aonung grunted, and whispered against the shell of Neteyam’s ear. Then he stood, lifting his gorgeous, tattoo covered body out of the water. Once again, you glance away out of modesty. 

He slowly waded across the pool to you, and your chest began to rise and fall quickly with each step. You held your breath as he approached. He stood over you, his upper body exposed while you stayed hidden under the water. 

“Is that what you want, Y/n?” He asked slowly, like he was talking to a small animal. “We can help you forget all that stress. You don’t have to think with us. You just have to say you want it.”

You stared up at him, mouth opening and closing as you sorted information in your head. It all happened so fast, his suggestion, his insinuation that you let them control you, that you let them do what they want to you. You tried to think, to find a reason to say no, but he was standing so close and you couldn’t form a coherent answer. 

“Y/n,” He asked again, this time softer. 

You could say no. You could remind him that they don’t like you and you don’t like them. You could run away, like you had considered earlier. You could yell at him for thinking you would be so easy, for thinking you would just fall to your knees for him. You could.

But you don’t. 

Slowly, you rose from the water, droplets trailing down your skin and over the smooth curve of your breasts. Your skin prickled with awareness as he watched, and a sharp sense of satisfaction filled you as he drug in a ragged breath.

He trailed his knuckles over your arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Say the word, Y/n.” 

“Both of you?” You asked breathily. You glanced over his shoulder at Neteyam, who was watching the interaction intently. 

“Both of us.” 

You’d already made up your mind. “Okay.”

Aonung dipped his head, ghosting his lips across yours. “Say all of it, minyu.”

You licked your lips, briefly touching his. “I want you guys to take care of me.” The words were barely audible to you past the pounding of your heart in your ears. 

They heard you clearly though, twin groans of approval coming from both of them. 

Aonung pulled away. “Go to Neteyam.” It was an order, and one you followed unquestioningly. 

You walked around Aonung to approach Neteyam hesitantly, and he held a hand out to you. He pulled you close to stand in between his spread legs. You watched him, trying to avoid looking down,where just under the water his cock jutted out from between lean hips. 

Aonung stepped up behind you and pressed his chest to your back. His bulky frame caged you in, surrounding you with the smell of sea water and spices. He was the perfect height for you to lean your head back against the curve of his shoulder. His rough palms slid against your hips, and he took your waist in his larger hands. You released a ragged breath. 

Another hand slid up the side of your leg, dancing over the curve of your ass to grip your hip on the other side. Since he was sitting, Neteyam had to tilt his chin to look up at you. 

“You listen so well, sevin.” You preened at the praise, your stomach fluttering. “Such a pretty blush.”

He tugged you closer. “You gonna let us fuck you, Y/n? Let us fuck you until there’s nothing left to think about in that cute little head of yours?” 

You nodded slowly. 

Something about the way Neteyam talked to you made you want to melt, to submit to whatever he wanted from you. Everything about his voice, the cadence, the tone, the soft lilt on the end, eases you into submission, into a sense of security with him. 

He caressed your face softly, and then pulled your mouth to his. He kissed slowly, sensually, savoring your taste and taking the time to map the shape of your mouth dutifully. You pressed closer, eager for more, and threw your arms around his neck. His fingers dug into your hip as he groaned low in the back of his throat. 

By the time he pulled away you were panting for air. 

“You tell us if you ever want to stop, okay?” His face turned serious, and he urged you to answer.

“Mhm.” It seemed they had already ruined your ability to speak actual words. 

“Words, Y/n.” Aonung grumbled from behind you, his warm breath ghosting over your ear. “Use your words.”

“Yes, I’ll tell you to stop.” 

A lie. 

You would never tell these two men to stop. There's nothing they could do that you wouldn’t accept willingly at that point. You were already slick with need and a desire so intense your clit throbs.

��Good girl, sevin.” Neteyam praised. 

Aonung kissed the side of your neck, eliciting a gasp from your parted lips. You tilted your head back to allow him easier access, and he used the new angle to turn your head and press his lips to yours. 

Where Neteyam was soft, Aonung was hard. He kissed you forcefully, like a summer storm determined to take everything you had to give and more. Your teeth clashed, his tongue quickly dominating yours. His sharp fangs bit into your lip, and you gasped at the sharp pain, pulling away. 

“So responsive, isn’t she, Aonung?” Neteyam hooked an ankle around yours under the water and used the leverage to pull your legs apart, opening you to him. He slid his hand between your thighs to your aching center, his fingers just barely gliding over the slick outer lips. “So wet for us.” He applied pressure to your clit, moving in smooth circles until you were grinding down against his hand. 

“Yes.” You whimpered, leaning back against Aonung for support.

Aonung nipped at your shoulder. “I told you she would be, I saw her clenching her pretty little thighs when she was angry at us. She’s been thinking about us, haven’t you minyu?”

“Great Mother,” You cried out as Aonung bit down, right in tune with the increased pressure against your clit. 

“No,” Neteyam corrected. “Just us. If you're going to scream a name, it better be one of ours.” He teased your slit, coating his fingers in the wetness there before he pushed two fingers into your heat.

“‘Teyam,” You gasped at the intrusion and moved your hands to grip his shoulders. 

He worked his fingers out slowly, and then drove them back in at a languid pace. He repeated the same motion, finding a sensual rhythm that had you clenching around his fingers.

Aonung reached from behind you to take the heavy weight of your breast in his hand, brushing calloused fingertips over the sensitive peak. He pinched your nipple, rolling the pink bud between his fingers. 

You arched your back, pushing up into his hands just as Neteyam added another finger. The stretch was delicious, and he curled his finger inside you, finding a spongy wall that made you see stars. 

“So fucking tight,” Neteyam growled. He increased the pace, stroking and stretching you on his fingers till you were gasping his name for more.  

“More,” You pleaded. “Need more.”

While Neteyam brought you closer to release, Aonung explored your body restlessly. He pulled at the flesh of your ass hard, pressing close to you. His thick length pressed against your backside and he rutted against you in short thrusts. 

“Demanding little thing. Ordering your future chiefs around.” He kept one hand on your breast and one on the curve of your ass as he rocked against you. “You forget your manners, minyu.” 

Neteyam thrusted up, harder against the textured wall of your cunt. They pulled you in opposite directions, playing a tantalizing game of tug-of-war with your body and you were enjoying every second. 

“Please, I need to come.” You looked down at Neteyam with wide, pleading eyes, your lips parted as you moaned. 

He stole your lips in another kiss, slotting his mouth over yours. He waited till you surged forward for more, and then pulled away.

“‘Teyam, please.” You begged. Water sloshed around you and you grabbed his arm, clenching down on his finger with each thrust.

He was hitting the perfect spot, the perfect angle with his hand so that he could thrust into you and grind his palm over your swollen, puffy clit with each stroke. Stroke after stroke, you climbed higher towards your release. 

Your stomach tightened and your toes curled against the floor of the spring as you approached the height of your pleasure. Behind you, Aonung pressed his thumb over the tight ring of your other hole, not entering but applying enough pressure to have you crying his name along with Neteyam’s. 

He kissed the shell of your ear, running his teeth along the sensitive skin behind it. “I can’t wait to take you here next time, Y/n. You’re gonna be so full of us.” He pressed in just the tiniest bit, and every muscle in your body clenched in response to his words. 

You trembled with the force of the orgasm and your nails dug into Neteyam’s shoulder as pulse after pulse your orgasm came over you. 

“She’s fucking milking my fingers.” Neteyam stared at the apex of your thighs, watching as your pussy sucked his fingers in. Your legs trembled, going weak in his arms. Behind you, Aonung held you upright. 

“I bet she fucking is.”

You shuddered as it came to an end, still feeling the throbs of aftershocks, and fell back against Aonung’s chest. You gasped for air, sucking in lungfuls in an attempt to catch your breath.  

They barely gave you time to recover before Neteyam pulled his fingers from you with a wet squelching sound. You watched, awestruck, as he brought his glistening fingers to Aonung’s lips. The Metkayina man held your gaze, and then he took Neteyam’s fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and moaning. 

Your mouth fell open in surprise  at something so lewd, and Aonung grinned back at you. “Fucking delicious.”

He pulled you from Neteyam’s arms to kiss you, licking into your mouth, and you submitted to him easily. He tasted like you, a heady tartness to his normal sea salt flavor.

Water splashed behind you, and tore away from him, turning just in time to see Neteyam lifting himself onto the edge of the pool. Your mouth turned down in a frown. 

“Aww, don’t pout.” Aonung teased. “Neteyam’s not leaving.” 

He kissed you again, softer this time, and you followed his lips when he pulled away. He laughed at your antics and slapped your ass softly. “Turn back around.”

You’ll deny it to your very last breath, but you kind of like how bossy Aonung is. It sucks when he’s irritating you, but in this situation, it is very much welcomed. 

When you turned, Neteyam hadn’t moved far. Instead of sitting on the ledge beneath the water, he sat on the edge of the hot spring, his ankles dangling down into the water. At this height, your head was basically in his lap. 

He sat with his legs splayed out, his swollen length hard against his stomach. The pink tip leaked pre-cum, and a drop of it spilled over, slowly sliding over down the blue, velvety skin..  White freckles decorated the shaft in a random constellation pattern. You ached to take him into your hands. 

Neteyam leaned forward to kissing the tip of your nose. “You still okay?”

“Very okay,” You answered with a dazed smile. He was so pretty, so close. And he smelled so fucking good. You inhaled his scent, allowing your head to loll to the side, a cloudy feeling invading your senses. 

“Good girl, you’re doing so good for us, sevin.” He leaned back on his hands, and you followed, driven to be closer to him. He stroked a hand over your head, as to pet you. “You want to keep going?” 

“Yes ‘Teyam.” You answered breathily.

He chuckled, brushing back your hair from your face. “So eager.”

Warm air brushed over your ear. “Ask to suck his cock,” Aonung whispered.

He nudged your shoulder, and you leaned over Neteyam’s thighs, looking up at him through thick lashes. “Can I suck your cock?”

Aonung tsked. “You know better. Gotta ask nicely, Y/n.”

You pouted, but did as he said anyway, speaking in a higher tone. “Can I please have your cock Neteyam?”

You watched as his cock very visibly twitched in front of you, and he groaned. “The answer is always yes for you.” 

Yes, yes, yes. You started forward, but stopped midway to glance back at Aonung. 

“Nung?”

He gestured toward Neteyam. “Go on.”

“But, but what about you?” You whined. You really wanted to put your mouth on Neteyam, but you didn’t want to leave Aonung out. He may have been fine just giving orders, but you didn’t want anything less than everything from boy men. 

He stepped closer to you, cutting off your whine. He must have read the longing on your face, because he was quick to assuage your fears. 

“Do not worry about me, minyu.” He kissed you quick and hard. “Neteyam’s going to take care of that pretty mouth of yours, and I’m going to fill you so full of my cum, it’ll be dripping down your thighs for days. The whole clan is going to smell us on you.”

Your lips parted in surprise, your pupils blown wide as heat licked at your core. You clenched around nothing, your whole body thrumming with electric energy at what he’d said. 

“I think she likes that,” Neteyam drawled cheekily. 

“Turn around.” Aonung rasped with his own cocky smile. 

Aonung grabbed your shoulders and turned you, still a little dazed from his words, and pushed you up against Neteyam. Face to face with his cock, your attention focused in at the throbbing erection. 

You reached you, cautiously tracing the tiny white freckles and the thick vein on the underside of him. He breathed in sharply above you, and bucked into your hand. You glanced up, and he nodded for you to continue. You took him into your hand, lithe fingers locked around the thick base. He was so warm, so hard yet so soft at the same time. 

More pre-cum gathered on the plush, pink head of his cock, and you impulsively stuck your tongue out to swipe at the bead. The salty taste exploded against your tongue, and you eagerly moved in for another taste. 

Neteyam slid his hand into your hair, tugging your head back slightly.“Open your mouth for me.”

You did as he said, opening your mouth and letting your tongue fall out. He guided your head over his length, pushing you down until he hit the back of your throat. You gagged softly, but hollowed your cheeks as he repeated the motion. 

“That’s it, just like that, sevin.” He moaned. 

You watched as his head fell back, eyes clenched shut in pleasure. You kept one hand on his thigh to keep you upright, and you used the other to work the base of his member. Drool pooled at the corners of your mouth, dripping down over your hands and creating a slick mess. 

Neteyam moaned your name, and you felt him buck up into your mouth again. You could tell he was holding back, trying not to hurt you as he succumbed to your mouth. You did your best to take him as far as possible, breathing through your nose and letting him push your head further and further down. 

You were finding a rhythm, settling at a good pace, when large hands pulled at your hips. With Neteyam’s hand gripping your hair so hard, you had no choice but to bend at the waist to stay upright. You rested the full weight of your upper body on his lap, your chest squished up against his thighs. 

Behind you, Aonung parted your legs and groaned at the sight of your exposed lips. He brought his hand to your entrance, slipping two fingers into the slick hole. You were already so wet and so stretched from Neteyam’s fingers that he slipped in easily. 

You pushed back against his hand at the intrusion, forcing his fingers deeper inside you. 

“So fucking greedy,” Aonung chastized.

He pumped his finger for a minute, waiting until you were moaning around Neteyam’s length, and then pulled away. He replaced his fingers with his cock, sliding the thick head through your folds and coating himself in your cum. His head brushed over your swollen clit, and you cried out, eager for him to fuck you already.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, minyu,” He growled deep in his chest, and the sound traveled straight to your pussy, pulsing with need to fucked right then. 

After teasing you, making you jerk back to get more of his touch, Aonung finally slid between the slippery folds and into the molten heat of your cunt. 

He was big, much bigger than either of the two lovers you’d had before, and he had to work to get the full size of him into you. He rocked in and out, and inch by inch he seated himself deep inside you, his hips pressed tightly to your backside. 

He’s girthy; so think that you sure no amount of prep could have made him entering you any easier. 

“Oh, fuck, its so fucking hot.” Aonoung grits out. 

You think he meant the heat of your core, which is so hot you felt like you were being burned from the inside out. You were so full of him, your lips spread tight around his length and spasming around the stretch. 

You tried to pay attention to Neteyam, but the all-consuming fullness of Aonung inside you had your focus divided. Neteyam didn’t seem to mind though. While you were distracted, he used his grip on your thick hair to take full control, maneuvering your head over his cock how he wanted as you melted into his lap. 

Aonung didn’t wait long for you to get comfortable, opting instead to pump into you hard and quick. He wasn’t not soft about it, and he pulled at your hips with a bruising grip as he pumped into you. 

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t ask for more, you could only take whatever they gave you. A fog had overcome your senses, blocking out the world until your only focus was Aonung and Neteyam, and the tight coiling in the pit of your stomach. 

You whimpered around Neteyam’s cock, tears pulling at the corners of your eyes as he essentially fucked your throat without abandon. 

“Great Mother,” Neteyam grunted, and you looked up at him through watery eyes. He wasn’t looking at you though, at least not at your face. He was looking behind you, watching Aonung bury himself inside you over and over again. “She’s taking you so well, Ao’.”

“Fucking look at her,” The other man gritted out, his jaw clenched. “Look at her greedy hole gripping my fucking cock. Bet there isn’t a single thought in there,” He punctuated his words with a hard thrust that has you crying out and your vision going blurry around the edges. “Just needed to be fucked stupid, didn’t you, minyu?” 

There was nothing you could do but rock back into him and cry around the mouthful of cock that Neteyam had been so gracious to give you. 

Aonung angled his hips up, the blunt head of his dick rubbing against the fleshy, textured wall of your channel. You arched your back further, and your hand dug into Neteyam's thigh harder. Watching your reaction, Aonung repeated the same motion, aiming for the same spot repeatedly. 

With Neteyam one one side and Aonung on the other, there is nowhere to escape the blazing heat that courses through your body. 

Neteyam jerked his hips, and you gagged, your throat constricting around him. Your jaw ached, spread open over him, and tears fell down your reddened cheeks. Above you, Neteyam cried out, and started to push harder against your head, pumping into your mouth. 

You watched him through your lashes and held his gaze as you flattened your tongue over the bulging vein on the underside of his length. His thigh tensed under your hand.

“Fuck, Y/n, I’m– Fuck!” You hollowed your cheeks, allowing him to hold you down at the base of his cock. Thick ropes of cum hit the back of your throat, and you swallowed as much as you could. 

You pulled from him, your head spinning as you gasped for much needed air. The last ropes of it landed across your chest, marking your blue skin with white. His body shook, as if the force of his orgasm had affected his whole body. He panted above you, the two of you locked in an intense stare as cum dripped from the corner of your mouth. 

With a shuddery breath, he grabbed your chin. “You look beautiful covered in my cum, sevin.” He leaned over, slanting his lips over yours in a desperate kiss.

Aonung had waited for Neteyam to finish, and then began to fuck into you more forcefully. He snapped his hips fast and hard, and it wasn’t long before you were a limp mess, rocking back and forth between their bodies like a toy, holding on to Neteyam to stay standing. Your stomach knotted, wound tightly as you chased the sweet bliss of coming. 

Neteyam wiped tears from your face with his thumbs and cooed down at you. “Look at you, all fucked out on his cock. I bet you’re close, huh?” He stroked your head as you nodded desperately.

“S-So close.”

“You’re taking him so good, Y/n.” He praised, and you melted under the sweet words, desperate to please him.

“So good, so good for you.” The words were a jumbled, stuttered mess, but you couldn't string together anything more coherent. “Fuck, so good.” You slurred your words, drunk on him.

Drunk on both of them 

“Oh, Aonung, fuck, fuck-” You mewled as your knee gave out beneath you. 

Aonung reached around and pulled you up against his chest. The new angle pushed him even deeper, and your body tightened around his member, sucking him in with each thrust. 

“You going to cum on my cock, minyu? Want me to fill this pretty pussy?” One of your hands reached behind you, grasping for any sort of support as he pounded into you. He takes one of your breasts in his hand, pinching hard over the peak.

The added pain is just what you needed to finish, and your back arched against him as liquid heat coursed through you, like electricity in your veins. You shook in his arms, your core spasming around his length as wave after wave crashed over you. You clung to him like a vice, crying out his name as he continued to pump into you.

Aonung doesn’t stop for a second; He chased his own release, pounding into you as you came and holding you at the height of your own orgasm in a sweet, delightful kind of torture. 

His arms tightened around you, and tears streamed down your face as he completely overwhelmed your senses. His thrusts grew sloppy, and harsh grunts fell from his lips as he rutted into you. He mumbled incoherently against your ear, grunts of “take my cock” and “fucking ours” falling from his mouth in a stream of curses. 

Your stomach drew tight, the same heat as before growing impossibly hotter. You were all fucked out, a limp, mewling mess in his arms as he used you to get to that peak, pulling your down onto his cock with each snap of his hips. 

Aonung made a sound deep in his chest, some mix of a growl and purr, and then buried himself as deep as he could inside you. A warmth filled your belly as he came inside you, rocking his hips as he worked through his release. 

A second, smaller orgasm pulsed through you, and you locked eyes with Neteyam. Gold eyes hold yours as you writhe in Aonung’s arms, mouth parted on a high-pitched whimper as you fall limp against him. 

Minutes, or maybe hours later, Aonung pulled himself from your worn out body. Your whole body was loose, any stress or tension completely gone from your addled brain. The world seemed to have a fuzzy tint to it, and you fought the urge to whine at the loss of his body from yours. 

He picked you up, placing you gently in Neteyam’s waiting arms. You fought to regain your bearings, to focus on any one thing, but you couldn’t tell how much time had passed. You watched as Aonung stepped out of the hot spring, and this time you did whine, low in the back of your throat. 

“Shhh sevin, it’s okay. He’ll be right back.” 

Neteyam kissed your cheek, and your forehead, and then your lips, distracting you from Aonung’s retreating form. 

Then he began brushing his hands through your hair, carefully detangling the new knots as he went. Through the haze, you heard him mutter something about “messing up your hair,” but the words barely registered.

Neteyam whispered sweet words against your ear as he worked with your hair, and your heart beat slowly began to return to normal, no longer beating out of your chest. The act of him brushing was so soft, so… domestic and sweet, that you almost think you were imaging it. 

Aonung returned soon after, having collected flower petals to wash up with. He lathered it in his hands and gently cleaned you. He paid special attention to cleaning the stickiness from the apex of your thighs, but nothing about it was sexual; It was merely a soft way for him to take care of you. 

“You did so well, Y/n.” Netayam soothed, kissing your nose softly. “I bet you’re sleepy, sevin.” The continuous brushing of your hair had your eyes falling shut slowly. The deep timber of his voice settled over you like a blanket, luring you into a deep sleep. 

Aonung finished up cleaning your body and poured water to wash away the suds. He kissed you gently, softer than you thought he was capable of, and laid back beside you and Neteyam.

He stroked your cheek, smiling at you softly. “I’m so proud of you, Y/n.”

You hummed in content, smiling back as you fought sleep.

“Sleep, minyu. We’ll talk when you wake.” He curled an arm around you and Neteyam, the bigger man holding the two of you in his arms. 

As you fell asleep, you realized it was the most at peace you’d felt in a very long time. If this was how it would be, you could definitely get used to letting them take care of you. 

#avatar: the way of water #neteyam x reader #implied aonung x neteyam #smut #aonung x reader x neteyam

[3nlivenning]

Omg I'm happy you're doing Franics one-shot how can I milkman like him be so attractive ( JK love him too )

May I request

The reader ( female being a florist and always brining flowers to Francis everytime he delivers milk but the reader also hides because she's embarrassed about one day he'll know the flowers is from her. Maybe some spice when Francis finally encounters reader and makes her fill the needs she had for him?

Very optional

Thank you so much 💗^^

x. confessions, confessions

pairing : Francis Mosses x Fem!Reader

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

FLUFF

“Must say the flowers are blooming vibrantly this spring.”

Francis appreciatively yet flatly commented as he looked at the pots of flowers that brightened up your porch, adoration seen through his eyes. He always looked forward to delivering her milk just to end up becoming fixated at the bright blossoms. His head turned, the bags under his eyes looked subtly darker than last time when you looked back. You could only feel your heart warming and thumping against your rib cages at his compliment. As simple as it sounded, it fueled your motivation to garden more.

“Thank you kindly, I have always loved gardening after all.”

You replied in a light tone, a small grin curling into your lips before he returned the gesture. The corners of his mouth curling in a gentle smile before he then handed the small wooden crate of cold, milk-filled bottles.

“Here you are, Ms. [l/n], it’s a pleasure to chat with you.”

Ever since that interaction you didn’t deny the sudden attraction you developed towards the neighborhood’s milkman. You always looked forward to his deliveries in the morning, finding excuses and tasks to be out on your porch so you or he could initiate a small talk between the both of you. Often times you were the one to start the conversations, whether it's about something small like how each other’s mornings are going, or her flowers. Nothing a bit too personal.  As time passed, the attraction toward the milkman deepened. Each new day brought with it a growing desire to connect with him. The mornings found you in your garden, carefully selecting the freshest blooms. Throughout the day, you tended to these delicate flowers, ensuring they remained pristine and free from any imperfections. As evening descended, you carefully removed any bruised petals or damaged stems, making sure it was perfect in order to catch his eye before you began arranging the flowers into a small arrangement.   The first time you attempted this, you were mostly anxious when it came to handing it to him. Thankfully the apartment units weren’t quite crowded. To be fair, there was only one apartment unit and a small number of residents living inside. Arriving upon his doorstep, with the vibrant bouquet of fresh blossoms from your garden in one arm, your free hand shakily reached the doorbell beside his door. Your stomach fluttered within your body, a sudden rush of trepidation washed over your body. What if he turned you down? Would he really be harsh on you? Doubts lingered in your mind, pressuring you into backing away. Maybe you were being too fast, perhaps?

The decision was soon made, you chose to back down from your initial plan. A disappointed sigh escaped your lungs before you bent down to place the arrangement on his doorstep. Giving it one last glance, praying that he could take the hint and perhaps reciprocate the fondness she had felt since their first interaction.

Days have soon passed and it has been a couple months after you first dropped off the first bouquet you made for him. It has started to become a bi-weekly routine. She picks the freshest flowers in her garden out in her backyard, experiments with the different colors and which flower went well with the other. You couldn't forget the foliage as well. Mixing a good variety of eucalyptus, fern and other kinds of greenery that enhanced each bouquet's visual appeal.

Soon you heard the familiar rhythm of the milkman’s knock against your door. Indicating he arrived for your weekly milk delivery. You quickly hurried in your bedroom. Hastily touching up the last bits of your skin prep and makeup before opening the door, greeted by Francis with a subtle yet warm smile in his lips.

“Mmmm, mornin’ ms. [l/n]” He hummed out whilst handing the small crate of milk to her. Replacing the old and empty ones from the last delivery. You gleefully grinned back, your heart pounding from the interaction currently happening between the both of you.

“Say, these flowers sure look awfully familiar to the ones I keep seeing by my door.” Francis blurted out once his tired eyes caught onto the rose bushes and pots of various flowers. Suspicion raising within him as he slowly caught onto the hints before he turned his head again. You could see his fatigue in his eyes melt away just a little bit. His temperature rising slightly, same to you as well right after it seemed like he figured it out. How long did it take for that lightbulb to finally flicker in his head?

You gave a sheepish chuckle, a bit tongue-tied. You weren’t quite sure what to reply with or react to that. “What makes you think I was the culprit?” You try to scoff, appearing more offended but the subtle red hue that danced on your cheeks said something else.

“I don’t think I mentioned anything about accusing you of leaving them behind.” His chuckle was low and deep. Before you could respond your hand soon met his as he took it. His palms were rough and calloused from years of work. Gently bringing your knuckles up to his lips, he gave a light kiss before pulling away with a grin. “Although, I’m not complaining.” Heart rates soared at that point, meeting his gaze once more.

He cupped your chin right after, pulling you closely until your chest was right against his. Neighbors be damned, he could care less if they saw. Breaths mingled once noses brushed. Both of your temperatures rising further before your lips met in a slow yet heated kiss. Francis’s hand gently cupped your cheek while your hand rested on top of his. Clearing any doubts by reassuring you with a simple gesture of affection.

To what felt like hours, you both pulled away. Heavily breathing to cool yourselves down before Francis started. “How about I come over in an hour after my shift?” He whispered against your ear before he smiled and walked back to his truck. Leaving you all flustered yet relieved.

Waving goodbye, you quickly went back inside your home to prepare yourself. Blood rushing with excitement while you got ready for the eventful night.

—

*snores*

#francis mosses #milkman #thats not my neighbor #the milkman #tnmn #francis mosses x reader #doppleganger #fanfic #that’s not my neighbor

[peachypinkygloss]

hello! for the 2k celebration: how about brothers bff!jk x reader (where jk has had a crush on Jimin’s big sis foreverrrrrr & now that they’re older he wants her to see him as a man) <3 all I can think of is seven jk w his tattoos & hair & abs!!! anyways happy 2k 💖💖💖 MWAH

thank you so much!! 💕 mwah 💋 x

big boy

You finally fall for Jungkook's charms.

pairing: brother's best friend!jungkook x fem!reader

genre: brother's best friend au

warnings: implied age gap, jk's needy but also kind of cocky??, she touches his abs lol, 600 words.

a.n.: ok like HE'S NEEDy but this is how i like it 😏 laundromat jk is my fav 🤞🏻

This is part of my 2k milestone celebration! Here is the post for the drabble game! 🤍 (requests are closed!!)

♡・2k celebration masterlist・♡

"Jungkook," you say his name a bit in a scolding way, but the smile gracing your features tells otherwise. You pull your clothes out of the drier, folding them neatly on top of the machine before dropping them in your basket. "I don't know, it's... it's not-"

He interrupts you as you stay indecisive, his eyes round and so, so filled with hope. He helps you fold your clothes while you're talking together. This time he stops after having dropped your folded jeans in the basket, gently grabbing your bicep to make you face him.

"Just... why not?" He softly asks, your eyes finally meeting him. You still haven't folded the piece of clothing you're holding, but you look at him anyway. "One date, that's it! Nothing more if you don't want to, but if you want... you know I wouldn't mind," he grins and you can't help but do the same.

You sigh, defeated, because there's really nothing holding you back other than yourself. You would like to, but you keep overthinking.

"But what happens after? You'll still be friends with Jimin and..." You bite down on your lip, stopping mid-sentence, not sure what you're worrying about exactly.

The past, maybe. The implications, the consequences, how you'll see yourself after that. Things with Jungkook started being different when you came back for the summer break. You haven't seen him in years because you were studying abroad and seeing him again is, to say the least, special.

Jungkook is someone very loyal, he stayed in contact with your brother and made plans the minute he knew Jimin was back in town for the summer.

The loyalty he has for your brother you would have never noticed it before, but now it does something to you. You like it, you like that he doesn't forget years of friendship, that it still means a lot to him.

"And what? Jimin's a big boy," Jungkook justifies. "And so am I," he adds, making you smile. He is a big boy, that's for sure. "We'll handle it."

You look into his eyes when he says those words, staring back at you with a serious expression. He often laughs, but you know it when he speaks seriously, like right now.

You think for a moment, a short moment, comparing the pros and cons. You realize the cons are just things you worry could happen, that you're not even sure they would end up being true. Thinking twice, you don't think it's worth it to rely on the cons.

"The real question is... can you handle me?" You flirt and Jungkook surely likes this.

He smirks, his eyes looking at you up and down. Before, he would have responded no, that he can't handle you, that you're too good — too much — for him.

But now, heck yes he can.

He steps closer and takes your right hand, a stupid little grin on his face. "Can you..." He begins, passing your hand under his tank top, your fingers brushing against his abs. "Handle that?"

You're surprised, but you appreciate how he's blunt with you, not scared at all to shoot his shot. You voluntarily don't take your hand away immediately, though you remember you're not exactly in a private place.

"Jungkook!" You scold, but still giggle it off.

"Don't reject me," he pouts, and he genuinely looks sad.

You sigh again, knowing you don't really want to refuse his proposition. You enjoy his presence, he's funny and he always manages to make you laugh even when you're not feeling well.

He's an adult and so much more mature than other guys your age. He's attractive, so kind and attentive. He's a good man and Jungkook's right, it doesn't matter what others will think — aka Jimin.

"Okay. Go for a date."

.

.

.

#🍑 [drabble game] #requests #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook imagines

[ghcstao3]

part 3 of siren/sailor ghoap hehehehe (part 2 🧜‍♂️)

-

Despite his gripes and discomfort, Soap does eventually drift to sleep before his chest begins to feel too tight, his breaths too short.

Then he’s rudely awoken by a large splash, drenching him even more so than he already was. He sits up in a flash, already glaring daggers at the water before he can make out the silhouette of Ghost’s head.

Soap curses under his breath, wiping excess water from his face and slicking his hair back from where it sticks to his forehead.

“I found somewhere,” Ghost announces.

At least Soap could appreciate his bluntness.

“Did you?” Soap grumbles. He’s found his fear of Ghost has diminished significantly, instead replaced with irritation. He figures it’s the cold and wet having finally seeped past his skin and into his bones. “And how do you suppose I’m getting there?”

“I’ll take you,” Ghost says, as if it weren’t obvious. “Come closer.”

Soap’s heartbeat ticks up in pace. He slowly tucks his outstretched legs closer to his body, though he’s still too far for Ghost to reach. Soap shakes his head. “You are going to eat me, aren’t you?”

“No.”

Soap sniffles. “I don’t believe you.”

Ghost huffs. Soap can sense the eye roll, whether or not the siren actually does so.

“Come on,” Ghost coaxes. There’s a slightly singsong, melodic quality, even for such two little words, but it’s enough to give a single tug on Soap’s heart the same way Ghost’s singing had in the rowboat.

“Cheater,” Soap scoffs, yet he still finds himself slowly unfurling his limbs.

Ghost hums to the same effect, even so daring as to swim right up to where the stone meets the water, folding his arms over the edge—all a mirror for the way he lured Soap in the first time.

But this time—this time, though still menacing in the way that it’s all his nature allows, Ghost is… teasing.

So, with a sigh and nothing better to do, nowhere to go, and already waiting for death, Soap relents. He crawls forward toward the water, mindful of the sharp angles of the cave’s formation, his palms surely to be scraped up anyway, if only from the commotion that had led him up until this point.

He creeps forward until he’s about a foot away from the siren. Squinting into the dark, Soap can almost make out those damp, blond curls. He doesn’t much like the glint in Ghost’s dark eyes, however.

“I said come closer,” Ghost insists.

“I am closer,” Soap argues.

Ghost beckons him even still. It isn’t until Soap is reluctantly face-to-face with the siren that Ghost appears satisfied.

Then Ghost is pushing himself out of the water, inching impossibly closer and closer, until—

Until he’s kissing Soap?

Soap gives a startled yelp, unable to pull away before webbed hands have latched onto the sides of his face. The siren persists even when Soap isn’t really kissing back—though Soap doesn’t realize he’s being pulled into the water until he feels a shock of cold on his face.

But again Ghost won’t let go, his lips still firmly pressed to Soap’s. Soap panics, trying to pull back but finding it impossible once he’s been dragged completely into the depths. He thrashes in the water, but Ghost remains entirely undeterred, his hold on Soap ironclad.

Then… then Soap realizes—his chest never constricts, his lungs never fill with water. Despite the rapid pace of his heart beating in his ears, it’s almost like… it’s almost like he can breathe.

His realization must be evident, as that’s when Ghost finally pulls away, that sharp grin appearing on his face. He lets go of Soap’s face and instead seizes his wrist before he’s propelling them through the water with his powerful tail.

It’s much different, being towed along while conscious. When light finally streams back into Soap’s vision, he finds himself entranced by the colourful fish they pass, the seaweed and the reefs, almost entirely forgetting the creature attached to him in his passing amazement.

Almost.

Every so often the scales or fins of Ghost’s tail will brush against Soap, and every so often he’ll be snapped back to his reality—abandoned by civilization, held captive by a sea creature who insists Soap isn’t food, but does so with a mouth full of sharp teeth.

Eventually, though, when Soap finally catches a glimpse of the sun, relief floods him. He gets to see daylight again, feel the warmth on his skin, and that thought alone is enough to calm him if only for a moment.

When they arrive to shallow water, Ghost suddenly stops swimming. Soap looks to him, confused, then glances down and realizes he could touch sand from where they float—it’d be too difficult for Ghost to continue.

The siren’s hold releases and Soap finally breaks the ocean’s surface, drinking in a mouthful of fresh air as if he hadn’t been able to within the water with whatever magic that kiss had held. He climbs to his feet, the water still up to his chest, and begins to wade onward to where Ghost has brought him—a small island, lush with trees but with a beach where Soap could dry in the sun, abandoned and isolated from everything.

While it may be far from any other person, at least here Soap wouldn’t have to worry about suffocating or starving for at least a little while longer as he perhaps devised a plan for his rescue.

He glances back at Ghost as he makes his way to the island, the siren never moving from where he peers out of the water, watching Soap. Every time Soap glances back, he never shifts.

When Soap is finally clambering onto dry sand, however, Ghost is gone.

Soap doesn’t suppose that the distant pang in his heart, his soul is disappointment. Why would it be? Why should it be?

Yet as his skin and hair and clothes slowly dry, Soap finds himself constantly looking back out at the ocean, at that spot, wondering if he’d ever catch another glimpse of the siren who ultimately had, as promised, not eaten him.

#siren!ghost arc is just scary monster to Creachur™️ #what having a crush on a human will do to you #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe #writing

[thatfreshi]

Can you make an Angsty Astarion x mortal!reader fic where Astarion realizes that one day the reader will pass and he’ll be alone again🙏🙏🙏 I need more Angst of this man😭

TW - Talk of death, graveyards

Recommended Song: Halley's Comet - Billie Eilish

Astarion often visits graveyards. It's some form of therapy, a place where he can let it all out, a place where he can mourn what he never had, what he doesn't remember. You don't usually go with him, deciding it's best to give him something just for him. Occasionally he'll ask you to come with him, if it's been a particularly rough time or if it's a special day. At the very least he goes once a month, and it's never a question of where he's going, you just know. You worry about him sometimes, being alone in some graveyard. You are all each other have, all you cherish, all you love. It's not often you're apart, but it's not all that difficult to stick to someone like sap when you can't be in the sun.

It's the anniversary of the death of some family member he doesn't remember, who died centuries ago, but some part of him feels as though he should at least go. Not like anyone else goes to see his family anymore. You're in the living room, setting up the fireplace for when you return. Astarion comes downstairs, and you hear his shoes tap each step. You turn to find him in all black, you are as well.

"Are you ready to go?"

You ask, grabbing your trusty knife off the table by the front door, sheathing it under your jacket. It's been quite cold as of recent.

"Mhm."

He doesn't say much. He doesn't have to say much.

"Then let's go."

You smile warmly and wrap yourself around his arm. The graveyard you're visiting isn't too far from the house. It's where most of the Ancuníns were laid to rest, including Astarion's 'grave.' When you arrive, he knows right where to go, and you simply follow along. A while back he memorized all of these people, their death dates, who they were, trying to remember anything he could from a life he lost long ago. The two of you sit in front of an ornate grave, a second cousin of his, or something of the like. You feel guilty that you don't remember like he does.

"I appreciate you."

He'd been silent the entire walk here.

"You always come with me when I ask. I know it may not make sense, I just feel as though it's right, to at least try."

"Of course my love. Whatever you need."

You rest your head on his shoulder and read the inscription on the tombstone. Apparently this man got a terrible illness, died sometime in his 20s, extremely young for an elf. You wonder how much Astarion remembers, if he knew this man at all. You never pry though. He always shares when he's ready. Suddenly, he squeezes your hand.

"I'll miss you. I don't miss these people, but I'll miss you."

"That's hardly a fair comparison. You barely remember them."

"I'll remember you forever. Even if I were enslaved for two hundred more years after this, I couldn't ever forget you."

He kisses the top of your head, lingering for a moment to take in your scent, the feeling of your hair, every little thing he'll remember when you're gone.

"The truth is darling, I don't think I'll ever love again, once you're gone."

He begins to cry. You hadn't thought about him with future lovers, lying with another soul.

"That's not fair though."

"What makes you say that?"

"You deserve to love after me. You deserve to be loved after me."

He sadly chuckles to himself.

"As if anyone could ever compare. You're the sun, and I the moon. Without you, no light would ever reflect off me again. A dark husk of a man, that's what I will be when you're gone."

He sounds so sure of himself, as if beyond you there is nothing. Then again, you've made this entire life together. Who else would fall in love with a vampire spawn with no master, a monster who's never going to be quite right? You're not sure what to say.

"To be honest, I don't think I could fall in love with someone else, even if I tried my damnest. You've made me feel safe in a way that is so foreign, fabricated just for me. You can't replicate that. You can't find someone so willing to be this patient, this kind, to not only love me for my body."

"You have so much more to love though."

"I don't think anyone would see it the way you do my sweet."

You shift to turn and look at Astarion, taking his hands in yours.

"You know what I love most about you?"

He softly smiles.

"What?"

"That you can change. It's something many people forget to do, to change and evolve, to find more in life than their misery. You've changed, for the better. Very few can do that the way you have."

"It's you who changed me."

Sometimes it frustrates you, how little credit he gives himself. Then again, it's much better than it used to be.

"Just promise me something? Once I'm gone, find another way to be happy. Find something that makes your heart flutter, that causes those precious creases when you smile. Find something else, if not for yourself, for me."

He nestles into your neck, giving you a soft kiss.

"I promise to try my love, that's all I can do."

His eyes are still misty, the tears get onto your neck. You try hard not to cry yourself, but it's hard when your heart is breaking outside of your body. You pray in that moment, although you're not sure to what god or power, but you pray that he'll be okay when you die, that it's a long time away from someone driving a stake through his ribs, that he finds joy in the small things like he does now. After all, hope is all you have when the afterlife comes to get you so soon.

"I hope I get to watch over you, wherever I end up."

"Like some kind of angel or something?"

"I guess. Like your guardian."

"Do you think I'll know?"

"Yes, I think you'll know. Maybe I'll take on the body of stray cats, follow you on the streets, lead you down paths with less heartache."

"I'd like that, very much."

~~~

Decades later, Astarion gets ready to leave the house, your knife on the table. When he steps out onto the cobblestone streets, there's a pure white cat standing a couple feet away. It meows, almost melodically, and turns to a nearby alleyway. He walks to where the animal was standing, and turns to look into the alleyway, but there is no sight of the stray. He smiles.

"Thank you, my love."

#comfort #angst #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav

[monzabee]

you'll change your name or change your mind - cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you find your way back home, even if the journey takes longer than you think. 

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!bianchi!reader 

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: mentions of jules and his accident, ANGST, talks about college acceptances in the US but it’s not accurate because i’ve never applied for US schools, mentions of alcohol and underage drinking/clubbing (only in the US though), mentions of a fake id, mentions of cheating, fighting, charles being stupid and not realising it, talks about processing grief, GRIEF, survivor’s guilt, talks of therapy, friends to lovers y’all. 

Request: “The Charles fanfic was so good!! Can you write more angsty but happy needing Charles? I think it’s be cute for a man who loves Monaco so much to got to wherever his girlfriend lives Ike London or nyc often and deal with that. Maybe she hates monaco lol” + “if your requests are still open, max or charles + “you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me.” thanks!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i decided to give into the whole angst thing and i can honestly say that i’m having a great time. i wanted to include Jules somehow in this one because i’ve been seeing some edits on tiktok and let me tell you proofreading was a bitch because i kept crying. also, my spotify kept bringing up lorde and hannah montana songs, so there you go. this was definitely a hard one to write and i know it’s messy, but all feedback is appreciated. thank you, anon, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Monaco is full of memories. It’s filled with memories of your childhood, your parents picking up you and your siblings from school in Nice, and getting the train to Monaco for your brother to compete in karting races. It’s filled with laughter, and ice cream, and friends. It’s also filled with fears, loss and uncertainty, and you suppose that’s why you didn’t ever want to go back. But you find your back there every time, even if it is only for a couple of days at a time. Although it reminds you of the bad times, it’s hard to erase the good ones completely. 

Charles is just one of the people Jules brought into your life. He was right there since your birth – apparently, the Leclercs were visiting your family in Nice when your mother suddenly went into labour. You will always be thankful to Pascale and Hervé for stopping Jules from choosing your middle name to be Michael Schumacher. Neither Charles, nor you will forget the type of shenanigans you got up to as little kids, there is only a year difference between the two of you after all. There’s that one time you stole Charles’ kart and tried to go down the road, in which he caught you but instead of ratting you out to Lorenzo and Jules, who were supposed to be looking after you by the way, he helped you get it down the stairs and passed you his helmet as he explained how to go about it. Neither of your brothers were impressed by your ability to go fast or Charles’ sudden interest in maybe becoming a race engineer if the whole driver thing doesn’t work out. There was also the time when the two of you, along with Arthur, snuck out from a family friend’s wedding to only get lost in a city in the South of France; Charles got so stressed that he forgot how to speak French and proceeded to ask how to get back to the venue in Italian for the rest of the night. Needless to say, the two of you are there for each other no matter what; you stayed together through heartbreaks, wins, losses, losing Jules and Hervé, funerals, weddings and much more. The majority of your time together is spent in your family’s house in Nice. Charles doesn’t mind the half-hour journey, an hour if he decides to go back but he hardly ever does. Sometimes, he manages to convince you come to Monte Carlo for the day by bribing you with promises of sunsets and ice cream, but he will always drive you back if you insist you want to go home without any complain. 

The first time you bring up the topic of moving, you’re in your last year of high school; by that time, Charles is already racing in Formula One, so your time together is limited to breaks between the races. However he tries his hardest to be there for you, from talking you through breakdowns that occur after long study sessions, to looking up pre-med programmes for you to apply all over the world. You never wanted to live your entire life between Nice and Monte Carlo in the first place, so is he is more than happy to help you explore your options. Your application results arrive when he’s on break between the races, so the two of you sit on the small table in his Monaco apartment’s kitchen, the light from your laptop lighting up both of your faces as you open up the emails one by one. You’re most anxious about your application to Columbia, which is 3.462 miles away from Nice, and 3.993 from Monte Carlo. By the time you finish opening up all the emails, both of you are sitting there with a silence between you. The acceptance letter still open on your laptop is congratulating you for your offer to join Columbia’s pre-med program the following September. 

“Yes,” He looks at you expectantly, “Accept it, Y/N, you shouldn’t be even thinking about it!”

“Yes?” You let out a nervous laugh. “It’s not that simple, Charles–” 

“But it is!” He argues, a big smile on his face. You can tell he is proud of you by the look in his eyes and the way his emotions carry through his voice. “It’s your top choice of school!”

“It’s also in New York, it means that there will be an entire ocean between us!” 

He shrugs. “So?” 

“So?” Your eyes widen in surprise, you start staking your head a little without being aware that you are doing it. “Doesn’t that scare you?” 

“Chérie,” Charles coos, pulling your chair by its leg to bring you closer to him and wrap a supportive arm around your body. His chest rumbles from his low laughter as he presses kisses to your hair. “We’ll be fine, look at everything we’ve been through, and we’re not even that old.” 

You scoff, hitting his chest in an attempt to get away; you start furiously typing on your computer. “You are old,” you point to him with a tilt of your head, “I’m not, though.” 

He rolls his eyes and turns his concentration to the tab still open on your computer, “You’re going to accept the offer, though, right?” 

You end up accepting the offer. Charles and his family is there alongside yours to send you off on a plane to New York City. Both your mother and Charles’ have tears in their eyes as they say their goodbyes, with your father giving you a similar look. Being the youngest of four siblings, it must’ve been hard to send their youngest all the way across an ocean, but they let you know that you have their support in every step of the way. With Charles’ schedule for the remaining races scattered all over the world, he tells you not to force yourself and to enjoy your first months as a college student. 

You surprise him in Austin, though. Arranging this surprise is definitely not the easiest, but you ask Lorenzo for his help and he is more than happy to make arrangements for you. It’s the end of Friday’s last practice session when you surprise him in the Alfa Romeo garage. He almost walks past you, to get rid of his helmet when you say his name, but once he realises it is you he quickly pulls in for a hug. “What are you doing here?” He asks you while laughing with glee. 

“Heard there’s an immunology seminar in town about the effects of talking a shower and then going out without drying your hair.” You answer with all the seriousness you can muster. 

“Really?” He asks in confusion, taking his helmet and balaclava off and trying to fix his sweat-soaked hair. 

You hit the back of his head lightly, shaking your head in disbelief. “No! I came here to see you race, you idiot!” 

He shakes head in understanding. “Oh, oh!” His eyes widen once again with recognition this time. 

“Yes, oh, now come on, we’re going out.” You’re quick to add, “To dinner because airplane food sucks. We’re going out clubbing after the race, though.” 

True to your word, you go clubbing after his race on Sunday, which Charles is not entertained by. He’s paranoid by the fact that you are in the club with them in the first place, which should not be happening because you’re underage. He keeps silent as you show the bouncer your id, which he knows is a fake, by the way; as he sends Lorenzo an incredulous look, his older brother’s reaction consisting off a shrug of the shoulders makes him more paranoid. 

“Y/N, you should not be drinking.” He voices his concern, as you’re on your second drink of the night. “This is wrong.” 

“How is this different than me drinking back at home?” You argue with your eyebrows raised. “You don’t tell me I can’t drink when we’re back home.” 

“Because it is legal for you to do so there!” Charles exclaims, somehow gathering the attention of some of the clubbers nearby, but he offers them an apological smile and then turns back to you with his voice lowered. “You’re not twenty one, ergo – you shouldn’t be drinking.” 

“Pfft,” You shrug him off, “You’re stupid, and I’m bored. You want to dance?” 

You help Charles to move into his flat in Italy when he starts racing for Ferrari. Though he still lives in Monaco full-time, he rented a small place in Maranello to stay when he’s travelling. It’s an emotional event, which has both of you sitting on the floor of his new apartment going through boxes of old photographs. He finds one of his brothers and Jules with you, standing in front of a karting ring with big smiles in all of your faces. You fingers involuntarily trace over your brother, your eyes misting when you think about the day. 

“He was so young,” You whisper, having to swallow a sob which threatens to escape. 

Your eyes linger on the photograph for a while, and Charles quickly understands that you were not talking about the photograph as the tears you were trying to hold back find their way onto your cheeks. “He was.” He agrees; there aren’t enough words in the world to describe what losing a family member does to a person, and he understands you in a way most people cannot. 

You offer him a sad smile through your tears. “He would be so proud of you.” 

“He would be also so proud of you,” He whispers right back, leaning closer to you so that he could wipe away the few stray tears. “In fact, I am pretty sure he is.” 

“Stop it.” You laugh softly through your tears as you push yourself to get off the floor, and dry under your eyes with your fingers as you look across the room. “Oh my god, Charles, we have so many boxes to go through.” 

He gets up after you and looks around the dusty living room as he attempts to get rid of the dust on his clothes. “We do, don’t we?” He watches as you kneel in front of an unopened box and slice through the tape with a knife, and starting to go through the items in the box. He watches you go through the items silently for a while, noticing how seriously you take the task. His eyes linger on the frown on your face for a while, the way your eyebrows scrunch in question, or how you tuck a stubborn piece of hair, which escapes from the braid in your hair, to the back of your ear. He stalks closer, gently gripping one of your wrists and pulling you to your feet. “Dance with me.” He asks – which comes off less as an ask and more of a demand, which causes you to playfully roll your eyes at him. 

“Charles, the boxes–” You try to argue. 

His laugh is laced with mischief. “The boxes will still be there, chérie, just one dance won’t change anything.” 

You try to come with arguments in your head but all your attempts are quickly thrown out the window when you realise just how green Charles’ eyes actually are. “We don’t have any music.” You try to offer as a measly argument. 

Charles raises his eyebrows as he wraps his arms around your waist after making you wrap yours around his neck. “We don’t need any music, Y/N.” 

So you give up in any attempts in stopping him, as he starts to slowly sway both of your bodies from side to side. You let out a chuckle when he stars, terribly, humming to an old song you used to hear on the radio. “This is stupid.” You mumble as you keep up your pace with his movements. 

“You seem to keep calling me that.” Charles recalls, making both of you laugh in recognition. “I need to tell you something important.” 

“So tell me,” you encourage him, motioning him to continue. 

“I met someone.” He announces, a small smile playing on his lips. 

You breath get stuck for a moment, in which you remind yourself that Charles is waiting for your reaction – most likely a supportive one at that. “Wow, Charles.” You breath out and give him a smile, which you successfully manage to pass off as a supportive one, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your voice breaks off in the end. “I’m so happy for you.”

You’re not stupid – thinking that either of you could stay single forever is an unrealistic one. But it hurts to imagine him with another person while he looks at you like that makes a part of you crumble up into a ball on your bed and cry. And that’s just what you do when you go back to the hotel that night (because the house is still unliveable when the two of you decide you’re done for the day). You try to keep your sobs as quiet as possible because you know Charles is in the hotel room next to yours. As you’re looking out the window, watching the night sky light up with stars in Maranello that night, you tell yourself you, somehow, need to move on from your best friend. 

The next time you see Charles is during Christmas time. You have a tradition – Lorenzo, Charles, Jules and you, a tradition, which Arthur joined once he was old enough. It’s a peculiar one. While it’s not uncommon for most families to watch Christmas movies during this time of the year, your choice of movie has not Christmas elements in it at all. Every Christmas, the four of you watch The Sound of Music. It’s a silly tradition which was born out of boredom and lack of movies one Christmas, but it’s a tradition you managed carried out every year. 

You can still remember Lorenzo complaining because “It’s three hours of songs about whiskers and bass clef.” 

While Jules gives his best friend an unamused glare, both you and Charles try to mimic the Frenchman who you idolise. “It has nuns, songs, Nazis and familial love, Lorenzo, what more could you ask for?” He shrugs as he turns his attention back on screen, “Plus, Julie Andrews is hot.” 

“Why would she be hot?” You remember asking, the woman on the screen not seeming uncomfortable by the weather. 

“No reason,” Jules assures you, wrapping one of his arms around you.“Watch the movie, shortcake.” 

And yes, while it might be stupid to watch the same movie, which has no Christmas value at all, every year on Christmas day, it’s a reminder that you have each other even if you’re not always together. So when you sit down to watch the movie that Christmas, there is a bad feeling in your stomach when you realise Charles is not there to watch it with you. If his brothers also find it weird that he’s not there they don’t make a comment, neither do you, for that matter. You try to push it to the back of your mind and enjoy the moment, telling yourself that even if this is a tradition between the four of you, it’s not the end of the world if you fail to do it. So you smile, and have fun throughout the day – when you’re watching the movie, or when you decide to hold a gingerbread house competition (Arthur wins, by the way), or when you sit down to have dinner with your families, and it makes you feel a thousand times better. 

It’s late when he comes home that night, Lorenzo and Arthur have already passed out on the couch with you trying to read the anatomy textbook on your lap in the low light. 

“Hi.” He greets you as he gives you a tight-lipped smile. 

“Hi.” You whisper back, trying not to wake up the boy sleeping next to you. “Did you have fun?” 

“Yeah, it was a good day.” He answers truthfully, and then motions the book resting on your knees. “Aren’t you going to go to sleep?”

“No, I think I’m going to stay here tonight.” 

He doesn’t argue as he presses a kiss on your temple. “Okay, good night, chérie.”

One thing about Charles, is that he is very secretive about his relationships – to the point where he won’t introduce someone to you or his family if he doesn’t think the relationship is going somewhere. So, when he brings over Charlotte for lunch the next day, there is a buzz around the house. The lunch goes well, you think. Charlotte is sweet, and the two of you talk about many things including your universities; she’s very impressed that you want to go into the medical field and you tell her that architecture must be a pain in the ass to study and she agrees with a loud laugh. 

When Pascale asks them what they did for Christmas yesterday, Charlotte leans against Charles’ arm as she answers, “Oh, nothing. We just stayed home and watched that old movie – what was it again?” 

“The Sound of Music.” Charles answers, his eyes are focused on his hands, and you know this, because your eyes don’t heave his frame until Arthur forces you to carry the dishes into the kitchen. 

“We’ll do them, maman,” he announces when Pascale attempts to tidy up the dishes, “Y/N will help me, won’t you?” 

“Yeah, sure.” You nod, the voice coming off from you not matching the sunny disposition you present to the rest of the room. 

You carry the dishes Arthur passes to you to the kitchen, holding your breath in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, and you succeed, too. At least until Arthur comes after you, carrying more dishes and places them next to the other ones near the kitchen sink. You start scrubbing them with intensity, your sniffles and the sound from water whooshing around in the sink filling the room. Arthur pulls you against him as you lean your forehead to his shoulder, or where you can on his arm due to your height-difference, as you start quietly sobbing. Arthur turns the tap on as he lets you cry into his shoulder. 

The two of you return to the dining room after the dishes are done, and continue the conversation as if nothing happened. After Charlotte announces that she should be on her way, you walk her to the door with everyone, the two of you exchanging numbers as she makes you promise to go shopping with her the next time you’re in Monaco. You agree with a chuckle and tell her only if she teaches you how to draw because your “Anatomy notes are seriously suffering.” After she gives Charles a kiss and leaves, Charles turns to you. 

“It’s just a movie.” He says in a low voice. 

“You’re allowed to have fun with your girlfriend, Charles.” You assure him and pat his shoulder for good measure. Then, you turn to Arthur, who is watching the exchange with a confused look on his face. “Want to play a round before I leave?” 

“Sure,” he agrees and the two of you move into the living room to play a round of F1 on the PlayStation. He sets it up for you as you try to get comfortable on the couch, trying to get rid of the feeling of unease as Charles watches you from the other side of the couch. “Who do you want to pick?” Arthur asks you, the cursor hovering over his choice – who is of course his brother. 

You stay quiet for a moment and answer him in a calm voice, “Give me Max.” 

Charles scoffs from the other side and pushes himself off, his arms crossed over his chest. “Rich, Y/N, just rich.” 

“What?” you ask him with faux innocence and a shrug of your shoulders. 

His voice is accusatory when he snaps, “Stop being childish for a moment.”  

“Oh, I’m being childish?” You ask him, getting off the couch as well. 

“Yes, you’re being extremely childish right now.” He agrees, nodding his head. “Glad we at least agree on that.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask again while narrowing your eyes. 

He scoffs, “It’s just a stupid movie.” 

“I didn’t say a fucking word about the movie, Charles.” You point out, mimicking his pose as you cross your arms over your chest. In reality, it’s a short attempt at trying to hide your shaking hands. “But it’s not a stupid movie, it’s tradition.” 

“Traditions can be broken from time to time.” He argues.

“I didn’t say they couldn’t.” You shrug, trying to appear indifferent to the man in front of you. 

“Maybe if you tried to stick around for more than three days at a time, you wouldn’t be so upset about these type of things.” 

Your mouth hangs open in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Charles, maybe you should–” Arthur tries to stop his brother, but Charles waves him off. 

“Sometimes I think ‘Did I do something?’, but then I realise that maybe the problem is not me–”

Though you’re shocked by his words, you find yourself assuring him, “It’s not, it has nothing to do with you.” 

Both you and Arthur can see something snaps in him, causing him to raise his voice. “Then what is it? Tell me so I can fix it and you can stop running away!” 

You shake your head, your arms which are wrapped around you becoming tighter as an attempt to provide yourself some sort of protection. “You can’t fix it, Charles.” 

His arms become undone as his fists ball on either side of his body. “You don’t know that–”

“No you can’t!” You scream, somehow more tears flowing from your eyes. “You can’t bring Jules back because he’s dead, and you can’t fix me because I’m not a toy! You think I want to live this way? You think I want to go back every damn time I set foot in this city because I just hate it here? I can’t bear the thought of staying here because of the fact that my brother died while I was here and I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.” You point a finger towards him, your voice gradually becoming louder to match his. “He was dead by the time I got back to the hospital and they told me he couldn’t hold on any longer, how do you think that makes me feel every time I feel like I’ve overstayed in this city, huh?”

“You need to stop living in the past, Y/N.” He shakes his head. “Don’t you see you’re letting the past hold you back?” 

“‘Letting the past hold me back’ do you even hear yourself right now? I am trying my best to move on!” 

“By moving across the ocean?” He asks you, “By leaving the people you love you behind?” 

“You– you can do this!” You scream as you walk towards him and jab your finger against his chest. “You told me to take the offer, you told me to move away because you were so sure we’d be fine.” 

“Well maybe I was wrong.” He whispers, grabbing both of your wrists to stop you from poking him and curling his arms closer to his chest. 

Your eyes widen with a furious look in them, which makes him realise he sees more of Jules in them than before. “Screw you, Charles.” You struggle against his hold, hitting his chest with your fists with every word as you scream, “Screw you for trying to dictate how I process my grief, and screw you for acting so indifferent.” You win your struggle in the end, taking advantage of the fact that he is both distracted and speechless to get out of his hold and quickly grab your things. 

“Where are you going?” He asks you as you’re putting your coat on. 

“Anywhere but here.” You snap at him, refusing to meet his eyes. 

Arthur quickly comes near you with a concerned look, “You shouldn’t be driving right now, at least let me drive you.” 

You give him the warmest smile you can muster up, “I’ll be fine, ThurThur,” your eyes find Charles’ as you continue, “Don’t ever change, okay?”

After the disastrous Christmas last year, you two didn’t talk for a whole year, even though the people around you tried their hardest to bring you to talk to each other. Even Charlotte tried to trick you into spending time, claiming that she had a work emergency just as you arrived at the lunch you two scheduled to find Charles sitting there – you quickly left without being seen and spent the day walking through the marina because “Fuck Charles if he thinks you can’t spend more than three days in Monte Carlo.” He spends Christmas with Charlotte again, but unlike this year, you don’t feel sad about his absence, choosing to call it growth when reality it’s actually packing it away to deal with it another time. 

The two of you eventually do make up, though, when you go to one of Arthur’s races to support him and run into Charles on the track. You talk between breaks, both of you succumbing and apologising to each other for the things you’ve said – him more than you, but you still apologise for the way you’ve acted afterwards. Arthur has a strange smile on his face when he finds you, releasing a relieved breath when you told him that you’re fine and you’re going to take baby steps. 

“Good,” he smiles, “maman was about to lock you onto Charles’ yacht.” 

Your therapist calls is ‘survivor’s guilt’. Yes, you have one of those now because although you want it to be false, you think a part of what Charles said might be right. She explains to you that it’s a natural response where someone has suffered a loss and you didn’t. This confuses you, though, because even if the loss in question is the death of your brother, you weren’t there to experience it with the rest of your family. Dr. Gambini is there to explain that “Although it implies experience, it doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t not feel the loss of something you didn’t get to suffer.” So, you go through the therapy experience to try to understand your own feelings, which makes you think maybe it is what you should be focusing on in the first place. It’s an overwhelming feeling, understanding things about yourself which you didn’t before – the things you used to feel slowly gain meaning as you go about it. You’re proud of yourself when you talk about it to your parents, and they tell you that they are proud of you for giving it a go. Charles joins you in one of your sessions – it’s Charlotte’s idea, actually. He tries to understand why, and how he can help you – he leaves the session feeling proud of you for taking care of yourself. 

A few months later, you get a phone call from him when you’re in the middle of the week when you are studying,  while all of your friends are away for spring break. His voice is thick with tears as he tells you that it’s over between him and Charlotte, but refuses to give you a reason when you ask why. It leaves you confused in New York, but when he asks you if you can come home for the weekend, you don’t hesitate to book a ticket for the next flight out. He’s shocked to find you standing in front of his door, but pulls you in for a hug anyway. Neither of you care about the duffel bag that hits the floor at your feet, even when you’re stumbling over it to get to him. You don’t talk, but hold each other throughout the night. He offers to cook for you, but you decide that ordering pizza is a better solution than trying to each what Charles attempts to cook. So, you end up deciding on pizza and a movie. 

You look at him confused when you realise which movie he’s selected, “It’s not Christmas, Charles.” 

He sits down on the couch, and pulls you under his arm as he reaches for the pizza box sitting on the coffee table. There’s a nostalgic smile on his face which you cannot understand. “I owe you two screenings of this movie, Y/N. Now eat your pizza and watch it.” 

So, the two of you watch the movie in silence – with silently laughing in relevant scenes and Charles even attempting to sing the Lonely Goatherd, which leaves you in tears because of how much you’re laughing. At the end of the night he walks you to the guest room in his apartment and pulls you for one last hug, whispering, “Thank you for coming,” into your hair. 

“Of course, Charles.” You whisper, turning your head and softly pressing a kiss to his shirt-covered chest. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning. 

He’s in the kitchen when you wake up in the morning, focusing so intently on something on his phone to notice you. You ruffle his hair as you make your way through the kitchen to make some breakfast for the two of you. “Good morning to you too, you grump.” You tell him, when you finish getting out the ingredients for the breakfast you have in mind. 

“Morning, chérie.” He answers, in a non-committal voice.  

“And to think I was going to make you pancakes.” You sigh as you halt the movement of your hands and lean against the counter. 

A playful smile is on your lips when Charles excitedly raises his head. “Pancakes?” He asks in a soft voice. 

“I was going to add chocolate chips, too, but you didn’t say good morning to me and now I don’t think I’m in mood to be honest with you.” You shrug, starting to put away the bowls you took out. 

He quickly comes behind the counter to tickle some sense in you, and you use the bowl in your hands as a shield as you start laughing. He gives up after a while, pressing a kiss to your temple and fixing some of your hair which fell out of place during the ‘fighting’. “Good morning, how can I help you?”

“Wow, you actually want to help me cook for a change?” You coo, ruffling his hair again and hitting his hip with yours to get him out of your way. “Go wait on the other side, you grumpy baby.” He complies to your directions to sit on the other side of the island, but doesn’t bother with his phone this time. You make a motion towards his phone on the island with your head as you crack the eggs into the bowl. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, just some problem with the car.” He answers. “I might need to go to Maranello for a day or two. When is your flight back to New York?” 

“Oh– I can change it if you know the date–” You start to say, but he quickly cuts you off. 

“What? No, I don’t want you to go back.” He quickly says, shaking his head. “I just thought you might want to come with me rather than stay here.” 

“Oh,” You say, looking around. “It’s not a problem, I can stay and study.” 

There is a confused look on his face. “Stay? Here?” He asks over and over again. “Here? Stay? Alone?”

“Yes, Charles, I can manage to stay by myself.” You sigh. “I did it last summer for a month, you can trust me, alright?”

“You were in Monte Carlo for a month, last summer? How did I not catch you at all?” 

You let out another sigh, “In case you don’t realise, I’m very good at avoiding you.” You continue when he gives you yet another confused look as you start mixing the batter. “Charlotte told me to meet her at a restaurant but it was a set up for me to meet with you, so I got in the car and drove away. It was probably the closest we got to each other.” 

“Wow.” He looks at you with wide eyes. “Just, wow.” 

You roll your eyes and glare at him. “Stop looking at me like that. My classes are all online this semester and Dr. Gambini thinks it’s good for me to spend more time here; it’s supposed to help me get closure, or something.” 

He gives you a big smile. “I’m proud of you, Y/N.” 

“Yeah?” You ask him, his smile quickly mirroring on your own lips. 

“Yeah.” He breathes out. “And you can stay here all you want! And cook me breakfast, you know.” 

You let out a laugh this time. “I can get my own place, Charles.” 

“But then who will cook me breakfast?” He asks with a small pout. 

“You are a child, Perceval.” You laugh at the way he looks at you, with his elbows bent over the counter and his upper body leaning over the stove. “I’m only cooking you breakfast; you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me after this.” You joke. 

You turn around to look in the cupboard for the chocolate chips as you hear him mumble, “Too late.” 

You almost hit your head at the open cupboard door when you turn right back to look at him. “What?” You walk towards the island as you mumble out, “No, no, no, no, don’t say that. You just broke up with your girlfriend, Charles.”

“We broke up almost five months ago.” He announces, no hint of joking in his voice. “Right before the Abu Dhabi race.” 

“That’s not true.” You say, shaking your head. “I spoke to Charlotte; she told me everything was fine.” 

He shrugs, then offers you an explanation. “We announced it a couple of months later, but we’ve been broken up for a while.” 

“But then why did you call me a couple of days ago to tell me it was over?” You ask him, visibly confused. 

He looks guilty as he admits. “I– I don’t have a good answer for that.” He stalks over to the other side of the island again to trap you between himself and the marble in an attempt to prevent you from evading. “All I can say is that I love you.” 

“Oh, wow.” You say, suddenly you can find the right choice for words. “Say that again for me?”

“I love you, Y/N.” 

“Now in French?” 

“Je t'aime.”

“In Italian?”

“Ti amo.” He laughs this time, leaning down towards you to bring his face towards yours. “You done?” You nod your head with a giggle escaping past your lips. “This would be a perfect time to say something, you know.” 

“Oh, right.” You nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you.” 

“What?” He asks in horror. 

“Yeah, thank you. You know, for the–”

“Chérie!” He exclaims with his eyes wide. 

You continue your giggles as you place your hands on his cheeks and pull his face towards you, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you too, chez moi,” my home/place. The pancakes are long-forgotten when you pres your lips on his to give him a kiss, somewhere in the universe your twelve year-old is high-fiving with herself, but you are happy to be finally home. 

#monzabee #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst

[yyawnjun]

⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧ CRUSHES ?! ⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧

ot13 seventeen x reader

a.n. helloo everyone, how are you? First time writing for svt and CARATS I am here for you!! Also I promise I will try to be more active on these days

Let me know your opinions and hcs !! comments, likes, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated. I hope y'all will like it ♡

summary: They as kind of apparently unreachable crushes - some of them are based on my experience but I am pretty sure you could relate too. Often that handsome guy, we only saw once and will probably never see again, that pretty barista, that airport guy....

1.9k wc ; fluff !! ; lil scenario for everyone ; kinda hope y'all can relate my delusional thoughts ; oh and tell me who is ur svt bias that I might start writing more for them <3

~ S.COUPS [에스.쿱스] ~ the airport crush

THE impossible crush for THE leader.

He would be that cool guy who sits in front of you while you wait for the plane, dressed entirely in black, probably wearing a mask and a hat as well. His gaze wanders as he looks around or scrolls on his phone with headphones on.

THE MOMENT when your eyes lock, and only you can see his eyes smiling. No matter if you keep that one eye contact, I'm sure that will happen again.

He might even make an unconscious attempt to get your attention by putting away his mask or moving his hair after putting away his hat to show how attractive he is… Perhaps it's the same for both of you when he nods his head or waves goodbye with his hand as soon as you have to take the plain. Your joy after that eye contact will keep you two awake during the entire journey, wondering if you will meet him again.

~ DINO [디노] ~ the charming waiter

c'mon ik you get me. You are in your favorite cafè and your order is taken by that one charming waiter who is softly smiling and with stunning eyes.

Even though it's your first time meeting him he already caught your attention, even only for how he acts or how he nods and grins while writing down your order (yes, I am aware of how much delusional I am).

Black and white plain clothing, messy hair, and once more, A COMFORTING AND SWEET SMILE. The urge to keep eye contact with him while he is working and serving other tables is clear to everyone.

And I bet he's the kind of guy who would come to your table and make jokes once he felt comfortable around you. Rather than making you feel uncomfortable, he asks about your order how you are doing, or if you will return

..lockey hoping for a yes.

~ DK [도겸] ~ the beach boy

Let me explain. I can't picture him out with no other expressions but SMILING. His big smile, using literally all of the muscles on his face.

On a sunny summer day, DK is on the beach with his friends, and they are all seated in a circle, laughing and enjoying some food.

Then there comes the instant when your eyes lock when his mouth smile slowly disappears and his eyes light up.

A few seconds passed when the two of you first laid eyes on each other, yet it felt like hours. Then, I can picture DK's friends slowly turning around to look at you, as well as your friends, as they begin to move their hands in front of DK's face.

as if to save from the enchantment.

~ THE8 [디에잇] ~ the motorbike's guy

I know it's just a moment but I swear that it is harder than you imagine to forget.

Imagine a young man on a motorcycle who is stopped at a stop sign after slowing down, wearing a dark helmet that matches the color of his eyes and has a clear visor(?), that turns around to look at you. Only a few people were running in the rain, and there weren't many cars in the area.

So you are still watching him watching you as you are under your umbrella. Your eyes locked for less than a second. There were no smiles or any facial gestures.

Under his helmet, he had deep eyes and a charming and veiled smile.

Who knows if he will ever forget that one-eye-staring contact challenge with those eyes of yours?

~ VERNON [버논] ~ the boy in the rain

I can absolutely imagine him forgetting his umbrella every time. Or perhaps it should not have been raining that day, but it was, and you two ended up stuck under a random awning.

His very presence was enough to make you a little nervous—he made no eye contact nor conversation. It occasionally happens that you gaze at his wet jacket or hair and vice versa, you feel his eyes on you one or twice.

But it wasn't a scary presence; quite the contrary. The young man's eyes were partially closed as he moved his feet to the beat of either made-up music or perhaps the sound of raindrops. And with a simple "bye," you wish that curious guy farewell who was so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost failed to notice that it had stopped raining.

~ WOOZI [우지] ~ the idol

Imagine him in a cafe or a library alone, a little while after his debut. Probably writing music or just relaxing on his own.

So you are as well there. Both of you are completely immersed in your work, not paying attention to what you have around you.

As time goes on, you start to become distracted or grow tired and start to look around. You smile as you turn your attention to the boy who is working hard.

Oh, it's time to go! After packing up your things, you see him doing the same. You both proceed to the exit when you unintentionally run into each other. He is the kind of guy that would instantly assist you in gathering your belongings and yourself as well. 

You both say thanks and then part ways before leaving.

Imagine learning who he is only later because he is now a famous idol.. who knows if he wrote something about you on the paper he was working on that day…

~ JEONGHAN [정한] ~ the hallway's boy

I am sure that everyone would have a crush on him if they saw him walking around the school. He is the prettiest boy I have ever seen fr !!

He's beautiful and he knows it…and loves playing with this.

Each time your eyes contact, he maintains the expression and smirks a little. After a few days, and much better if you were in the same classes, he would start saying hello to you all the time.

He would know your name too if you were in the same classes with him or even in the same project group. After that, he will be the one screaming out your name, expecting that you will turn around and look at him as you always do.

So now you won't be the only one who constantly glances at someone

~ MINGYU [민규] ~ your traveling companion

This one is really specific I think.

I thought about that one comforting person that you always see while coming back home or going to school/work every morning.

At first, there are no conversations or greetings. At first, you won't even notice, but eventually you both will. As you begin to feel a little more comfortable, even sit near to each other!

So you become friends when you realize that you've begun to worry when he's not there, or when he's late. Greeting one another and possibly having a brief conversation or trading phone numbers or Instagram!!

The best part is still when he introduces you to one of his friends and it's obvious that the friend knows exactly who you are (YES HE TOLD THEM ABOUT YOU).  

~ JOSHUA [조슈아] ~ the sporty guy

Someone becomes immediately more attractive if they are passionate about their sport. Sorry, I don't make the rules.

He's not just interested in sports; he excels in them as well. He is the athletic student in the class and he's a gentleman, so… Imagine, during class, going for a run together. I think he's competitive yes, but not the type who is obsessed with winning, so I think he would not mind if you two slowed down or stopped whenever you needed to.

He would be the one encouraging you as you tried your best to avoid passing out while jogging for PE, or he would be the one you are staring at while he is competing; the one who appears to look good under the sun and would definitely smile or wink at you if your eyes happened to meet.

~ SEUGKWAN [승관] ~ the saver

Let's talk about how embarrassing it is to ask for directions when you are completely lost…It happened to me a few days ago in my hometown…

I pictured you having to find a building for a class but it's raining and you have no idea where to go. Seugkwan could be that comforting companion who feels just as lost as you, in my opinion. And it's comforting exactly because you're not lost alone; he's with you.

So you two end up together while searching for where to go.

He would ask a worker there for directions while laughing at the bizarre circumstance and lightening the atmosphere. After finding this out, you would walk together and sit next to each other for the rest of the lesson(s)…

~ HOSHI [호시] ~ the concert's guy

the vibe of a concert. immaculate. And it's even better when you really like the singer or the group because you get to meet all those amazing people who have the same passions as you!

Imagine seeing this boy, alone, waiting in line, looking so gorgeous and dressed up for the concert. Literally, the image of the beauty, with an outfit - maybe a crop top with baggy jeans - matched his makeup. So charming that is impossible to stop looking at him

AND SAME FOR U- While your eyes continue to lock and you smile, you are dying inside from happiness. Hoshi might even approach you to compliment you on how lovely you are and ask you how you feel about the concert,

Oh and Imagine singing along with him to your favorite song without caring about anything else.

~ JUN [준] ~ the friend of a friend

Okay, hear me out. That one moment when a friend of a friend that you have met just like one or two times does something kind and looks so attractive while doing it.

He is at the party where you and your friends are attending. only good moments and loud music; but you realize you need a break, so you choose to spend some time in the garden.

Worrying that you were not feeling well he would go out too, bringing some water for you. He did not say much when he sat next to you and gave you a glass of water. Perhaps at first, there was awkward quiet, but soon you two started talking soothingly about nothing that serious but still comforting.

~ WONWOO [원우] ~ the arcade's boy

I immediately thought about him as the arcade crush. Imagine you and your friends at the arcade having to split up into teams or pairs, and you are missing your partner.

Or imagine being in an amusement park and finding yourself alone in a Ferris wheel, roller coaster, or horror house (perhaps precisely as you wanted!). Then, BOOM, he sits next to you. It could be because there were no more places left…right?

He would be that cool guy who would play with you - you probably would have to make the first move tho…

or you might just be mesmerized by how amazing he is as he plays alone. He might feel the pressure of your gaze, but he wouldn't really mind—or maybe he would even kind of like it;)

#k-labels #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x yn #seventeen fanfics #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #scoups x reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #dino x reader #lee chan #lee chan x reader #vernon x reader #choi hansol #choi hansol x reader #joshua x reader #joshua #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #jun x reader #junhi #jun #hong jisoo x reader #svt joshua #svt seunkwan #seungkwan #seungkwan x reader

[navybrat817]

Harmonious

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You may think you're a pawn in Bucky's life, but you are his queen. Word Count: Over 1.7k Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, implied vaginal sex, possessive behavior, dirty talk, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) A/N: Nix gifted me with this beautiful edit and I decided to make it a prequel to Husband and Wife. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banner by the amazing @sgt-seabass and divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren't sure how you found yourself in Bucky's study, which would also be yours in time. The day passed by in a blur as you tried to remember when exactly you went into the warm, spacious room and shut the door. You weren’t sure why you chose that spot in particular to hide. As if you could escape from your fiance long enough to get peace.

Maybe some sick part of you wanted him to seek you out, which he did. Even if you tried to run, he’d hunt you down. He'd always find you. He’d win.

"Your move, Printsessa."

Bucky's voice beckoned you back to present as you realized he started the game. You stared at the chessboard, like it would provide answers to the questions about the future you didn't dare ask, before you lifted your gaze to the man you would soon marry. He chose to slick his hair back tonight, which drew your attention to his sharp blue eyes and well-groomed beard. The tuxedo, tailored to perfection, emphasized how large and imposing the member of the Bratva is.

Knowing personally how large Bucky is everywhere had your thighs rubbing together before you could stop yourself. Your traitorous body outweighed your heavy heart. One day they would be in harmony.

What’s so wrong with loving him? Why shouldn't I let him consume me?

You tore your gaze away to look at the chessboard again. He opened with the King's Gambit. Fitting since he lived like royalty. A ruler of everything he touched.

Including you.

So would you allow yourself to be his queen? To be by his side through everything? The ring on your finger may say you'd be his, but he wouldn't own you. Not yet.

In time.

Bucky would see to it.

"Do you remember what happened the last time I beat you at chess?" he asked as you slowly moved a piece.

"You put this ring on my finger," you told him, holding up your left hand.

And he spent the night ruining you with his mouth and cock.

"You almost beat me. It isn't often someone keeps me on my toes," he said, smirking when you wrinkled your nose. "It was a beautiful night. I won’t forget it."

You didn't need the reminder, but you refused to tell him that. How could you deny the beauty of it when he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you? Could you argue when he whispered how much he needed you by his side? The man had the world in the palm of his hand, but he needed you.

Why?

You hadn't done anything special to get his attention, but you had it all without asking. Even when you tried to close yourself off to him, he wiggled his way in. How did he do that?

"Am I just a game to you?" you asked suddenly as he made his next move.

"We're playing a game, but you are not a game to me."

"Why do I feel like a pawn then?"

Bucky appeared unphased, but you knew better. This was a man who would destroy anyone who looked at you the wrong way if you asked. To suggest that he was using you for anything was an insult.

"You're not a pawn in anything," he said fiercely, keeping his eyes on you as he brought his drink to his mouth and downed it in one gulp. "You're my queen, Solnyshko."

You ignored the flutter in your heart when he set the glass down and reached across the table with his metal hand to touch yours.

"And who said you're my king?" you whispered.

"You did when you said 'yes'," he told you, pulling his hand away so you could take your turn.

"I haven't said 'yes' yet," you retorted, knocking one of his pieces away with more force than necessary.

He snorted as he watched the pawn hit the carpet. "You're mine, Printsessa. Or did you forget?"

Your pussy clenched in interest at the thought of him reminding you, but your mind refused to let you give in.

At least, not right away.

"Like you'd ever let me forget," you said, pointing a finger at him. "It's your ring on my finger and your last name I'm taking. What are you taking of mine, besides my body?"

Bucky's eyes darkened a shade as he sat back in his leather chair. Goading him into a fight wouldn't do you any good, but he liked that you pushed. He craved both a worthy opponent and a partner in his life. You were the one he chose to let in.

But the man had many doors to open and you only had so many keys in your grasp.

"It's your heart I want," he said more to himself than you, but you caught the longing in his voice as he looked away.

You paused for a moment, his admission nearly bringing tears to your eyes. "I wouldn't have agreed to marry you if you didn't have it."

Despite the fact that he could bend the world to his will, he would never force you to be with him. There was still so much you didn't know about him though, like his past. You knew just enough to acknowledge that his family wouldn't be there. Not with his parents in the family cemetery.

Did he not trust you with his secrets or did not he not trust himself?

He didn't smile when he looked back at you, but his shoulders sagged in relief. "And I'm yours as much as you're mine."

Fighting him was a losing game. He defeated you the moment he decided he wanted you. What was it you were arguing about to begin with?

Bucky Barnes is a dangerous man, yes, but he would never pose a threat to you.

You would always be in his care.

"Beat me and we can move the wedding up a week," you proposed as you resumed the game.

Bucky considered it with a grunt. The sound brought a smile to your face. No one else would dare tease him about his reactions to anything.

"Two weeks,” he suggested, licking his lips. “And we leave right for the honeymoon after the ceremony so I can fulfill my duty to you as your husband."

"We're having a reception," you stated, wrinkling your nose again to hide your growing arousal. "But we can move it up two weeks if you win."

"When I win," he corrected you with the utmost confidence.

"Just play," you grumbled as he chuckled.

Neither of you spoke for almost an hour as you concentrated on the game, but you stole glances at each other between moves. Why did he have to look so handsome in his tuxedo? Did he wear it just to have you lust after him? A taste of what your wedding day would bring?

He probably had the bowtie in his pocket to use around your wrists later.

"Checkmate."

You sighed, but nodded when he grinned triumphantly. He beat you fair and square. You should have seen that coming.

"Good game," you said, putting your hand out for his in a mock handshake. "You get to marry me two weeks sooner."

"It's a good thing I already prepared for that," he smirked as you raised an eyebrow, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss it instead of shaking it. "Oh, I moved the date up this morning."

"You what?"

"I moved the wedding up," he said as you yanked your hand back. "Are you that surprised? I want you to be my wife sooner rather than later."

"Jackson. Buchanan. Barnes."

The cocky look on his face had you seeing red, but part of you also felt flattered that he couldn't wait to make you his wife.

I can't let him know how gone I am for him, fiance or not.

"Get on the table and I'll say I'm sorry."

It was your turn to smirk. "No."

The dangerous glint in his eyes as they raked over your body made your core throb.

"I can either apologize with my tongue or with my cock," he offered in a low voice. Possessiveness knew no bounds when it came to him. "Either way, you will get on that table and spread your legs so I can worship you."

Suppressing a shudder, you reached under your dress and slowly removed your wet panties. You surprised yourself by making it through the entire game. "Make me," you said, tossing the fabric into his lap.

If he wanted you so badly, he could work a little for it.

His hand shot out, the chess pieces scattering across the floor along with the board. You didn't flinch. Having the attention of one of the most powerful men in the world would make a lesser person crumble. But you weren't easy to break.

You are his equal.

"Is this a taste of what our honeymoon will be like?" you asked as he got to his feet.

"Not just our honeymoon. he rest of our lives," he said, moving around the table to tower over you. "There is no me without you, Solnyshko."

You didn't stop him as he gripped your arms and pulled you to your feet. You allowed him to devour your mouth with his before he put you on the table, careful not to hurt you. Those very hands of his destroyed his enemies, but he only brought you pleasure. He would give you a home. A future.

All you had to do was let him in.

"Show me why I'm making the right choice by marrying you," you challenged him as he shoved your dress up around your hips.

Bucky sank to his knees, digging his fingers into your flesh as he spread your legs. The man who bowed to no one else dropped down to service you. That was the kind of hold you had over him.

In your heart where you tried not to acknowledge it, he had the same hold over you.

"If the mess you make on my beard won't be enough to show you, I'll make sure to do it with my cock."

He laced his fingers with yours, anchoring you to him as he got started. Your king would take his queen tonight and many nights after. He would prove that you brought harmony to each other. And you wouldn't do a damn thing from this day forward to stop him.

I love them. Can't wait to share more of their journey. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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