#because when you’re too close to the trunk you can’t fucking see the whole tree.

[trashendence]

honestly still feral about that post wondering how many times eddie thought of telling buck he made him chris’ legal guardian in the year following the well almost-disaster. because the sole image of eddie holding back (in the name of shame? fear? desperation?) claws at my insides but. but. i wouldn’t rule out the possibility of eddie never allowing himself to even think about the will. going on with his days vaguely aware that he’s secured a future for his kid in the warmest and safest of places - buck’s arms - but never stopping for a moment to feel anything more about it. never shame and definitely never fear. a safe heaven where chris and buck have a serene future without him, where he’s dead but death eventually happens to everyone so it’s okay, a sub-reality where everything is organic and none of the things he’s decided to do with his heart has to be analyzed or questioned. not even by eddie himself.

and isn’t that equally telling about his motives? this fierce protection - even from himself - of the most precious thing he has?

#no listen i actually hate the depths of this man with passion #someone went ‘​how can you love someone without thinking about it? #while you’re still asleep and haven’t even opened your eyes but you *know* you love? how?’ #and he went ‘well just like this?’ #he mentions it just for buck’s sake. he doesn’t even compute it as something big probably #because when you’re too close to the trunk you can’t fucking see the whole tree. #babes i’m Going Through It #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buckley diaz family

[khazadspoon]

fuck it I’ve been sick here have some favorowdy spanking because @westernmeowmeow encouraged me to. We love the one time Mister Favor mentions a hickory rod it lives rent free in my head.

———

Gil Favor is a patient man. He knows the benefits of being patient, knows that being patient is what has kept him alive and mostly successful so far in life. But there is only so much patience a man can have when dealing with hotheaded, stubborn jackasses like Rowdy Yates.

It turns out Gil is almost at the end of his patience.

Rowdy has once again decided to put a woman he’s only just met above his job, and Gil is growling admonishments before he can think twice.

“And if you think you’re going back there-”

Rowdy stiffens, draws his shoulders up and in. “You don’t tell me what to do, you ain’t my father!”

“No, I ain’t!” Gil leans in, his blood hot with anger. “But if you don’t stop acting like a child I’m gonna damn well treat you like one!”

They stare at each other for a long moment, Rowdy’s eyes wide as he takes in the words, and Gil almost wishes he could take them back. But Rowdy doesn’t back down. He doesn’t apologise for causing yet another delay or getting in trouble for the hundredth time in what seems like as many hours. No; Rowdy stands firm and Gil watches his lip curl in a half-sneer.

“Go on then.”

Gil blinks, hesitates, eyes flicking to Rowdy’s lips and back. The kid is smiling now. “Don’t test me, boy.”

“There’s a hickory tree right there, boss. Go on, snap off a branch.” Rowdy inches forward, points off to the side.

Gil isn’t a cruel man. He doesn’t like hurting people, but he takes a certain kind of delight in the surprise on Rowdy’s face as he snaps a thin branch from the tree. He grips it, draws it through his fist to scrape off any leaves and small twigs, and whips it against his thigh. The thwack makes Rowdy jump.

“Turn around,” he says, gesturing to the tree trunk. Rowdy does.

He waits for a few moments, lets Rowdy begin to wonder what he’s doing before he lets the first strike land.

Rowdy gasps, jumps as his hands grip the tree. The gasp becomes a muffled shout as Gil lands a second blow. He isn’t hitting hard, he doesn’t want to really hurt the kid after all, just… remind him that sometimes it’s better to think before he acts.

A third strike, a fourth, a fifth, and Rowdy is making a strangled sound that Gil almost recognises. He’s heard it before, in the dead of night when they’ve settled a few miles from the herd between destinations, when Rowdy assumes he’s the only one awake. It’s not the sound of pain, or not pain alone, it’s the sound of Rowdy as he-

Gil swallows the lump in his throat. He draws his hand back, considers it for a heartbeat before dropping the hickory rod. The next blow is with his bare hand. It lands squarely on the curve of Rowdy’s ass. The kid lets out a weak shout, his hips bucking, and Gil tries his damned hardest to ignore how the whole thing is making him feel. He doesn’t succeed, but then he’s the only one who has to know. Rowdy is too absorbed in himself to notice and Gil can’t blame him.

Another slap, and Gil has to stand closer to make it count. But being so close means he can hear the choked off moans coming from his ramrod, means he can see the flush on the back of Rowdy’s neck and the indecent curve of his spine. Gil has successfully beaten down his attraction to the younger man over the past few years, and now-

Now it all rushes up to him, bowls over him like a stampede, and he wants nothing more than to throw Rowdy to the ground and ravish him.

He doesn’t. He keeps a firm grip on his feelings, even as he delivers a few more harsh slaps to the kid’s backside. He does drink in the feverish moans, saves them in the back of his mind for later.

“Fuck!” Rowdy curses in a whisper as Gil’s hand finds him again. He shivers, jolts, and if he didn’t know better Gil could have sworn he’d made the kid come with that last spank. The thought makes Gil bite his own lip. Time to end it.

Now he’s finished he isn’t sure what to do with himself. Rowdy is still facing the tree, his cheek pressed against the bark. Gil clears his throat and reaches out, draws Rowdy away from the tree and rubs his hand up and down the kid’s back. The same hand that had just been… he shivers, holds his breath and counts to five before turning the kid to face him.

“Rowdy,” he near-mumbles, “I’m s-”

Rowdy cuts him off with a shaky smile. “No, no, I’m- I’m sorry. You’re right, and I’ll learn my lesson. You can, uh, you can let go now. I’ll… tidy myself up.”

Gil finds himself transfixed by the flush on his ramrod’s cheeks. He flexes the fingers of his hand, the one that had caused that flush, and resists the urge to reach out.

He leaves Rowdy with a nod, ignores the desire simmering low in his belly as he heads back to camp. He doesn’t see Rowdy watching him leave.

#rawhide #gil favor #rowdy yates #favorowdy

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Season 16 (Part 1)

Summary: After being captured by Michael while Dean was under his control, the reader has spent a very long time locked away waiting for someone to come and find her. When the day finally comes that the door opens, it’s not a familiar face she’s greeted with. Somehow the impossible is standing right in front of her but there’s no time to think about that. Something is terribly wrong and the reader needs the help of this strange young man if she wants to stop what Michael’s put in motion and have a chance at seeing Dean alive again...

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x reader

Square: Free Space

Word Count: 3,600ish

Warnings: language, SPN season 15 and series spoilers, injury, mention of main character deaths, mention of torture, angst, fluff

A/N: This series takes place post season 15 and follows canon (i.e. if it happened in the show, it happened in this story’s universe). This series is told between the reader and Dean’s POV. This was also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story bingo!

________

Reader’s POV

You just about had a heart attack when the door opened. It’d been such a long time since it’d been opened. Years and years and years. You’d lost track of the days quickly but it was long enough for you to accept that it’d been a very long time. Long enough to accept that when Michael took over Dean and threw you down in the windowless little room, Dean didn’t win that fight.

The only thing keeping you going aside from the spell Michael had put up to keep you permanently trapped, body stuck in time, was the desire to save Dean. Or what was left of him. You’d been alone for years, body having taken a beating by Michael when he first captured you. You were still covered in bruises, broken ribs that wouldn’t heal, pain in every breath. You didn’t sleep, didn’t eat. Solitude, cut off from the world, that was your main form of torture. Dean though...who knew what hell he was going through trapped with a psychopath like that for all these years.

You readied yourself, a dark figure walking inside the room. The room was pitch black to a certain point before you were trapped under a bright light you’d yet to figure out how to turn off. The figure stopped as their feet hit the brightness, a pair of brown boots and slim dark jeans all you could make out. They mumbled something and you felt the air shift slightly. You dared to reach at hand out to where the invisible wall keeping you trapped had been.

Your hand waved right on through it and you suddenly felt cool, clean air hit you. The person jolted when you sprang up, running away as you bolted for the door. You followed them up a flight of stairs and straight out into the foyer of a very nice house. You could see it was a man now and tackled him, straddling his hips and grabbing your knife from your waistband of your loose shorts, holding it to his throat. He breathed hard as you stared at him, cocking your head.

He was the spitting image of Dean. Mostly. His eyes weren’t green and there was something about his nose that reminded you of your own. The biggest tell of all though was the genuine fear in his face, the confusion. 

“What’s your name,” you said. You held up the knife for a moment and tucked it away when you saw he was only focused on it. The young man, no more than twenty years old, took a deep breath. You yelped when he threw his legs up and wrapped them around your waist, yanking you off of him. He scrambled to his feet but you were on his tail, grabbing at his jacket. He spun around and popped you in the face, sending you to the floor.

You whined and cupped your cheek, the young man frozen in the doorway with a horrified look on his face.

“Who punches their own mom!” you shouted. He ran out the door and you went after, growling at your bare feet as he took off down the gravel driveway. “I’m gonna find you!”

You stomped your foot on the cool concrete front path, glancing to your right and spotting a sports car. You jogged back inside and found a pair of women’s sneakers, a little too big but you tied them tight and found some keys on a front table. 

About two minutes later you were pulling up beside the guy on the road and hopped out of the car, the man running into the nearby treeline. You pulled out your knife and threw it, catching his jacket and pinning the sleeve to the tree trunk. He stumbled and fell down as you walked over, staring up with wide eyes. You sighed and ran a hand over your face. 

“Can you at least tell me your first name?” you asked. He shook his head and you crossed your arms. “I bet your name is Lyle, isn’t it.”

“How’d you know that?” he asked, voice a bit higher than Dean’s but it made you smile, something warm and familiar to it.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think recently. Lyle is my top name for a boy if I ever had one,” you said. “So. Lyle Winchester.”

“That’s not my name,” he said. He stood up and pulled out the knife, carefully holding it out to you.

“You look just like Dean and me. You’re my son...somehow,” you said.

“Fine. My name is Lyle and that’s all I can say about myself,” he said. “I’m serious.”

You recognized the tone, that edge to it, the roughness but laced with an undercurrent of worry. Part of you wanted him to tell you everything about him but you knew he couldn’t, instead letting yourself give him a simple nod.

“I’ll make you a deal Lyle. I won’t ask questions about you that you can’t answer if you tell me how and why you got me out of there and answer anything else I want to know about this little situation.”

“Or else what?” he scoffed.

“Or else someday when you’re a teenager I won’t let you do anything. Lyle.” You took the knife from him and put it away, taking a deep breath. You stepped back out to the road, leaning against the car. You shut your eyes, something heavy draped over you. You peeled one eye open, Lyle leaning back against the car next to you in a blue flannel and dark gray t-shirt. His black hooded jacket was over your shoulders and you slipped your arms through the sleeves, wrapping them around yourself. You squeezed your eyes tight, shuddering before warm arms embraced you, Lyle almost as tall as Dean holding you close to him. “How did you know I was down there?”

“I can’t answer that,” he said.

“What year is it?” you asked.

“2089.” You froze, staring up at him. “Well, 2089 where we are right now is.”

“Lyle. It was 2018 when Michael took me. That’s not possible.”

“I can’t answer that either.” Tears welled up in your eyes and he hugged you again. “Sorry.”

“Dean was thirty nine the last time I saw him and it’s seventy one years later? He is dead. Sam is dead. They’re all dead so explain to me how the fucking hell I have a son with Dean!” you shouted. You pushed him away and ran your hands over your face. “Years. Fucking years I’ve sat down there waiting for him to come and get me. Him or Sam or someone. Fucking seventy one years!”

“Y/N,” he said, sounding a bit awkward but he cleared his throat. “I can’t answer everything because I don’t know everything. But I exist and that should tell you something.”

You wiped off your face with his sleeve and looked around, turning back and staring at him.

“I’m at the start of whatever this is and you’re way down the line,” you said. He nodded with a slight smile.

“I don’t understand it but this, where I’m from, this has already happened to you.”

“You’re from the future then,” you said.

“Not exactly,” he said. 

“A different universe?” He looked at you like you were nuts and the air shifted, Lyle freezing. You turned and saw Jack, a smile on his face. “Jack?”

“Hi Y/N,” he said. He stepped over and gave you a big hug, a little bit of ache inside you easing finally. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just on pause.”

“Jack I don’t understand fucking anything. What’s going on?” you asked. He pursed his lips and sighed.

“Well you already figured out Lyle is your and Dean’s son. I didn’t think I could slip that one past you. But it had to be him that came and saved you.”

“Why?”

“Dean’s in heaven. Has been for 69 years.” You broke away from him feeling like you’d had a punch to gut and making you breathless. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that with the whole decades worth of trauma thing happening right now.”

“Did Michael…” you trailed off.

“No. A piece of rebar on a vamp hunt,” he said.

“He what?” you said.

“Yeah got pushed back on it. Sam was okay though. Oh and Dean had a dog for a few months.”

“Dean fucking died from that? That’s what kept him down?” you said. Jack nodded and you looked down, blinking your eyes. “Disregarding what is going on in my head right now about that, why didn’t you heal him? Or Castiel?”

“Well Cas was in heaven helping me rebuild after he sort of died and I brought him back. I kinda am the new God,” he said with a smile.

“I’m proud of that but again, why didn’t you come down here and heal Dean?”

“I’m sort of hands off in that regard,” he said. You were about to go off on him for that when it hit you.

“Jack how long have you known I was alive,” you said. 

“2020 when I took over, I got these extra-”

“You knew I was alive and  left me in a hole in the ground for over seventy years?” you said. 

“Like I said, I’m hands off,” he said. 

“I was your fucking mom! I took care of you! I protected you! I almost died for you more than once and when you find out I’m still alive you say fuck that bitch, she can deal with it on her own? What the fuck is wrong with you!” you shouted. You slapped him in the face, Jack pouting as you sank down to your knees. “I want Dean.”

“Y/N.”

“I want Dean and Sam.”

“Y/N-”

“I want Dean!”

“I can’t-”

“Fuck you! You’re as every bit as evil as that devil father of yours after all,” you said. You forced yourself to your feet, tears prickling in his eyes. “Oh did I hurt your feelings? Tough fucking shit! Do you realize that I have not only been stuck waiting for years but my body got stuck too. I’ve been sitting with broken ribs for seventy years. Every single breath excruciating.”

You yanked up your shirt, deep purple and black skin radiating across most of your abdomen. Jack reached out a hand and you moved back, dropping your shirt.

“I thought you were hands off. I don’t want your-” you said before warmth trickled through you, the pain gone, body feeling so strange at being without it. 

“I don’t have to touch to heal you,” he said quietly. He swallowed and bowed his head. “I tried to let people live their lives without my interference and sometimes they’re messy but I’ve come to realize recently that’s wrong. A bit of help here and there is good. It gives people hope and maybe I should have done things different.”

“My family’s dead and I don’t want to wait around decades more to see them again in heaven. You’re going to-”

“No I won’t. Lyle’s life counts on you doing exactly what you’re supposed to as do your two other children’s. I can’t just put you in heaven. You can’t die right and you have to wait to see Dean until things work themselves out. Lyle’s going to be with you for a while and help get some things settled. It’s already set in motion so go with it,” he said.

“Jack I want Dean. Please,” you said. “Please Jack. Just five minutes.”

“Would you rather have your family back in the near future, alive, or would you rather have your and Dean’s souls torn apart and you never see him again, dead or alive? Rather he over there doesn’t exist? Rather no one exists?”

“I didn’t say that. Of course I would rather have them back alive-“

“Then be patient.”

“Jack. You gotta give me something. Something please.”

“I’ll talk to Lyle, tell him he can loosen up some. But I can’t tell you what to do. You have to follow your gut. Listen to Lyle and it’ll work out,” said Jack. You squeezed your eyes shut, Jack carefully resting a hand on your shoulder. “Do you hate me?”

“I hate that our family was ripped apart. I hate that you didn’t tell the boys I was alive once you knew. I hate that the last time I saw Dean alive we argued. I think what I hate most of all is that you treated us like everyone else. We’re not, Jack. We’re your family. All of us deserved a chance at normal and we didn’t get it.”

“Sam did.”

“How many years did Sam live without us? Without his brother?” you asked. Jack glanced down and you nodded. “You said you became God? Why didn’t you get rid of the monsters altogether Jack. Don’t tell me you don’t have that power.”

“I thought...I thought it was the natural order.”

“Yet you know there are other universes with no monsters at all. You could have taken the monsters away. Shit turn them human for all I care. The boys didn’t have to keep hunting after you took over. You could have been hands off and changed that one fact and saved so many lives, improved so many lives.”

“No. I couldn’t have changed it. Not back then.”

“Why the hell not?” you asked. He pulled his hand away and you found yourself in some clean clothes, Lyle’s jacket folded on top of the car.

“Because when I became God, I learned a lot. It sucks knowing that certain things have to happen and that I had to ignore when Sam prayed to me in that barn because things had to happen this way.”

“But why?”

“Because if I didn’t, if I’d intervened then and there, this universe, all of the ones I’ve been busy rebuilding, the way I’ve been rebuilding heaven...it’d be gone. Destroyed and I wouldn’t be able to put it back. It’s a temporary pain even if it doesn’t seem like it. So please, Y/N, please, listen to Lyle. Work with him. It’ll work out and things can be okay. You can have everything you ever wanted and more. You can have the freaking apple pie life and the no monsters and all of it but please understand you have more shit to go through first and whatever happens, do not let Lyle die.”

“He’s my son. I wouldn’t let that happen to him,” you said. Jack nodded and you grabbed his arm when he turned to leave. “You’ve grown up Jackie.”

“I’m still a baby by God standards,” he said.

“The guys take care of you after I was gone?” you asked. 

“Yeah. I missed you though,” he said. “I accidentally killed Mary and sort of lost my soul for a bit. Things got bad for a while.”

“Do you see Kelly in heaven sometimes? Mary?” you asked. He nodded and you smiled. “Kids can fuck up and your parents will forgive you.”

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, Y/N. If I could snap my fingers to fix it all, stop it from ever happening, I would.”

“I’m going to trust that it had to be this way,” you said. “But give me a ballpark figure here. When do I get the guys back?”

“That’s relative. You’re going to end up breaking the space time continuum so it’s hard to answer that correctly.” You stared at him and he shrugged. “Not too long. A few days at most. I promise.”

“Wait is that how we have a twenty year old son?” you asked.

“Yes. The next time you see Dean he’ll be younger than the last you saw him. Just trust your gut and Lyle. Next time I see you I hope things are much better,” he said. You opened your mouth but he disappeared. You shook your head and turned around, Lyle now wearing his jacket, standing closer to the passenger seat door. For a long while you both simply stared, Lyle looking as if he’d just had his own long conversation with Jack. 

“You can call me Y/N if that makes it easier,” you said. He nodded and you took a deep breath, going to the driver’s side. “So. What’s the next move?”

“Jack just said after I got you out we had to go to Lebanon. He didn’t tell me anything more than that,” he said.

“Any idea where we are?” you asked.

“San Antonio,” he said. “So we go North?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Mind taking the first shift driving? I sort of haven’t slept in like seventy years.”

“No that’s fine,” he said. He walked around the front and you made your way to the passenger side, climbing in and sighing. He got behind the wheel and took a deep breath. “You and dad run a construction business.”

“That’s nice,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Dean’d be real good at that kind of thing. He’s really smart.”

“I know. Most guys can’t call up their dad for help on their architecture homework,” he said. 

“You go to college?” you asked, Lyle nodding. “Do you know about...this stuff?”

“I’m still not convinced I’m not insane. I just got home on a friday night. We had dinner and everyone went outside to have a bonfire in the backyard. I went in to use the bathroom and Uncle Jack stopped me before I could get back outside. He said a lot of crazy stuff I didn’t believe but the fact you were in that basement...you and dad are only like forty but you’re obviously too old right now to have had me when that would have made sense and Uncle Jack said space and time is gonna break and-”

“Lyle,” you said, holding up a hand. “Relax. I just want to know, do you know what hunting is?”

“Dad doesn’t go hunting,” he said, narrowing his eyes. You smiled and nodded to yourself. “We don’t even own a gun.”

“I doubt that. But that must mean that something happens to the monsters along the way too.”

“What do you mean monsters? And why were you kidnapped in a basement? And what the fuck is going on? You’re supposed to be my mom that runs the family business and you kick ass in your soccer league in the summer and you can’t cook to save your life and that’s okay cause you’re really good at baking and pies and shit and I just don’t understand who you really are.” His face was flush, eyes fighting back tears. You smiled, reaching over and cupping his cheek.

“You’re a good guy Lyle. We obviously did something right,” you said, wiping away a stray tear that fell. “It’s scary. It’s really scary. I’m not your mom yet but I will be someday. I promise I will tell you everything you don’t know when I catch up to your time. Dean and I will. But we need to go to Lebanon and the faster we can go there and figure out what we have to do, the faster we can get you back home where you belong.”

“But can’t you-”

“This world isn’t safe, Lyle. It is very unsafe for a Winchester especially. Please drive now,” you said. You put on your seatbelt and he closed his eyes. “Please.”

“I was supposed to be having a smore right now,” he said.

“I know. But saving the world is kinda cool,” you said. 

“I don’t want to save the world. I want to go home and not see my mom be beat to shit. I want my dad to go back to teasing me at dinner and not being dead,” he said. 

“If we do this right, you can go back to that really soon. It hasn’t happened for me yet. We can talk all about this when you come back. The night you come back we can talk through it all. But we have to get going. The sooner we go, the sooner it goes back to normal.”

“It’ll never be normal again.”

“Yes it will. I promise.”

“How do you-��

“Because I just had this really bad thing happen to me but someday I’m going to have you and everything I ever wanted with Dean. So it sucks right now but it’ll be better eventually. I know it will. You’re here so I know it’ll be normal.” He nodded and wiped off his face, starting the car up again.

“Y/N. Are you okay after...you know...being down there beat up all that time?”

“Not really,” you said. He took off his jacket and handed it to you. You stared before he rolled his eyes, laying it over your front.

“Sleep. I can drive.”

“Lyle.”

“Y/N. Rest. It’s safe. I got this.”

“You take after your dad.”

“Take after someone else too,” he said. You smiled and nodded, resting your head on your shoulder, closing your eyes. “I’ll wake you up for breakfast.”

“Egg and-”

“Cheese on a biscuit, two breakfast burritos, extra hot sauce and a small hot latte.”

“At least my road trip order didn’t change,” you said, quickly relaxing and falling asleep for the first time in ages.

_______

A/N: Read part 2 here!

#tell me a story bingo #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean #winchester #dean spn

[stellaricwriting-archive]

DBD AU- Techno PT 2

Techno/Reader, Dead By Daylight au

warnings for dark themes, horror, death, consensual murder, stalking, knots, strangulation, long ass post 

It becomes noticeable when you start venturing out further away from the campfire, scavenging in the woods for flashlight batteries, a medkit, anything helpful. You’re long used to the feeling of being watched in the woods, though lately it feels… More.

You’re deep in the woods again, trying to reach a half rusted metal lockbox wedged into a tree when you feel it. You can’t describe the feeling, but one moment you’re straining to reach the box and the next you’re staring into the glowing eyes of The Blood God from across the tiny clearing.

He doesn’t move, and you find yourself slowly relaxing from the position you were straining in, settling back on your feet and resting the hand that had been reaching up on the trunk of the tree.

You just… watch each other for what feels like a lifetime, some kind of energy drawing you together, but then he’s slowly moving towards you. You watch as he stops just in front of you, so close you can feel his body heat, and after a beat, he breaks eye contact. 

Instead, he looks up into the tree, and pries the lockbox out. He holds it for a moment, studying it awkwardly, and then he’s pressing it into your hands, and stepping back.

He doesn’t return to the other side of the clearing, just steps away to what you judge to be just out of arm's reach for him.

You thank him quietly, and watch as he gives a low rumble in response, looking away from you as if bashful. It’s… cute.

The box ends up having a pretty decent medkit in it, and you sag slightly in relief knowing you’ll be that much better off come the next trial. As you keep moving through the woods, searching out anything that could come useful, The Blood God follows. He never comes too close, and he never once makes a move to hurt you. Somehow, his company is the most comforting thing you’ve felt since finding yourself in the Entity’s realm.

When you leave the woods, he lingers in the treeline, and it’s only after you turn and wave that he vanishes back into the shadows. 

You don’t tell anyone.

It keeps happening, though. Every time you go explore, mentally mapping out the parts of this hellscape you’re allowed to wander, or just scavenging for items, The Blood God is there, keeping you company.

He slowly gets closer, moving from arm’s reach to eventually being by your side. The heat that rolls off him chases away any chill, and his presence makes you feel safe, and then safer still when you catch the pale features of The Shape watching you through the trees one time, only to be scared off by the vicious snarl that rips out of The Blood God upon seeing him.

He begins touching you sometimes, the softest brush of his claws over your hair, a gentle but firm grip on your shoulder turning you so you see whatever treasure he’s spotted for you.

You wonder sometimes, what exactly makes you special to him. Why he spends time with you, protects you… 

Why in every trial you see him in, the moment he notices you, he abandons other prey to chase you.

You start getting a reputation among your fellow survivors, at first it was concerned glances, getting singled out by a killer is never a good thing, after all. As time passed, and it became clear that you didn’t mind dying to his hand, it became a joke, of sorts. A ribbing, mind keeping him occupied while we get out, Acolyte? 

You didn’t mind, though. Dying to The Blood God felt the same as the first time. Like a dream, like it was meant to be that way, like every slice of his axe was fate. The chase becomes a game, and more often than not you find yourself smiling as you lead him in circles, not because you’re getting away, but because you know he’ll always catch you.

Then, things change.

You’re in another trial, the killer not having shown themself, and the only survivor you’ve found is David. He gave you a grin when he saw you, and you roll your eyes despite your smile. He’s annoying at times, a roguish flirt, doing his best to make you smile. It’s not so bad at the campfire, but in matches you find it a little much.

You’re working on a generator together, and next to you David swears as his fingers fumble and it goes off with a loud bang. You scramble to get up, to run away from there, the killer alerted to it for sure, but you slip. David catches you by the arm and drags you up, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to support you as he prepares to all but hurl you over the nearby palette.

You both freeze at the roar behind you, the sound monstrous and angry, and you can see over David’s shoulder that it’s him. The Blood God. 

He charges forward, and David shoves you away as he tries to avoid the blow, the tip of the axe just catching his shoulder and ripping his jacket. You stumble back, disoriented, and watch as The Blood God’s gaze turns to you. 

He sweeps your feet out from under you, and from where you fall on the ground you watch David give you a helpless, apologetic look as he scrambles away into the foliage. A rumble turns your gaze above you, and you startle when you realize that instead of standing over you, The Blood God is so much closer.

He pins you to the ground, one large hand keeping your wrists together and pinned to the dirt. With the other, he pushes up the mask you’ve never seen him without, and your breath catches in your chest.

Your first thought is his eyes really are that red.

They glow with eerie light, slit pupils blown wide as he looks down at you. Scars stretch across his face, and two sharp tusks jut out from his bottom lip. Long hair spills out of what looks like a messy braid, and you’re enchanted by how it’s a soft pink. 

He stares down at you, brows knitted as he watches your face carefully, searching for something. You don’t know what he’s looking for, but he finds it, face softening out of what you realize was something possessive, jealous even.

And then he’s even closer, and the world around you melts away into something dizzy and dreamlike as he kisses you. It’s hungry, almost desperate in the way he brings his free hand up to your cheek, in the way he barely wants to pull away.

He’s settling between your thighs, and you wonder when you spread them open for him, when you wrapped them around his waist, but you don’t care anymore, just try to drag him closer with them.

He’s ripping your clothes away, snarling as his claws snag on them, and then his fingers are pressing into you, making you gasp and keen as he moves them, like he knows all the places to touch to drive you insane as quickly as possible.

You’re moaning and whining, you realize, your head thrown back as he works you to an orgasm, his mouth on your neck, sucking and biting marks that would be impossible to hide if they lasted outside the trial. 

You open your eyes, unsure when you closed them, and find yourself making eye contact with David, his eyes wide, a hand over his mouth, as he hides half behind a palette. You don’t get the chance to process it much though, as The Blood God lets go of your wrists in favor of touching you.

A strong hand running down your chest, smoothing over your hip, and then he’s touching you and you’re cumming with a cry, a name you’ve never heard before slipping past your lips.

Against your neck, you feel Techno’s sharp smile, the victory of making you remember him, and he presses a last kiss to a fresh mark before pulling back to look at you, his eyes raking over your body. He pulls his fingers from you, and your whole body feels hot as you watch him lick them clean. 

You don’t know when he undressed, but when he ducks down to kiss you again, you feel the hot press of his cock against you, and you whine, bucking your hips, unsure if you want him in you or if you’re too sensitive still.

The slide into you stretches you in a way that you didn’t know you needed, you craved desperately, until he was filling you. It’s perfect, and when you feel his knot nudging against your entrance you moan his name again.

Your mind goes blank as he fucks you, pleasure overtaking you. All you can do is cling to him, moaning and sobbing as he fucks orgasm after orgasm out of you. You realize briefly at one point that he’s saying something, and when you try to focus to hear it, you realize he’s snarling a litany of mine, and missed you into your skin.

Distantly, you think you hear the sounds of one of the doors being opened, your other survivors escaping, but you can’t bring yourself to care, to think of anything but the way Techno groans as you tangle your fingers in his hair.

The way he purrs as he comes inside you makes your eyes roll back as you cum one last time, your whole body falling limp as exhaustion takes you. Techno nudges his forehead to yours and you look up at him with lidded eyes. 

When you make eye contact, you know.

It’s you who decides, reaching out for his wrist, and pulling his hand to your throat. You watch his eyes go dark again as his pupils expand, and he kisses you softly one more time before his hands are closing on your throat. Your vision darkens as dizziness takes you, the lack of air making you float off into nothingness. 

Next thing you know, you’re at the campfire. 

You find out it was Kate and Jake in the trial with you, as they apologize for not coming to find you and David before leaving.

You wave off their apology, as does David, but he can’t look you in the eye, and you notice that he’s unfailingly polite with you now. It’s almost funny, and somehow you can’t feel the embarrassment you know you would have, once.

The next time you wander into the forest, Techno is there, sliding his mask off and purring as he ducks down to press your foreheads together.

Time is hard to track in the Entity’s realm, but you grow used to spending most of your time in the fog and the trees, Techno at your side.

Sometimes you just wander together, sometimes you find yourself dozing against his side

Sometimes he presses you up against a tree and fucks you full, crooning your name, you think he’s the only person who knows it, who can use it. Other times, he presses you gently into the moss covered ground, rocks into you gently and whispers devotion into your skin. 

You’re his, his Acolyte to keep and care for.

But he’s yours too, your God to love and adore.

Forever

#god this took ages im so sorry #the blank bullet points are on purpose dont worry #dbd au

[yoongiseesawmp3]

punch me - jungkook

back again with another self indulgent fic! enjoy

summary: daycare worker jungkook invites you, his favorite coworker, to the lake with his friends. why the lake? he wants you to see his new sleeve and whipping his shirt off in the classroom isn’t quite acceptable. plus he just wants to spend more time with you. there’s no harm in that.

warnings: none i think! 

word count: 3.5k

you work at a daycare, which isn’t a bad thing. it’s pretty chill, you like the kids and you can take off work pretty easy because there’s tons of subs. but also, not many people are bringing their kids in lately. so that means you and the other staff have been digging into the snack closet so “they won’t go to waste.”

jungkook was the one who suggested it. well, maybe suggest is the wrong word? he got caught up to his elbows in the bin of sweets, so when he turned to face your boss he immediately went into charming mode so he wouldn’t get in trouble. and once jungkook said it, everyone else thought it was a good idea too. hell, you’ve stopped buying snacks for yourself because you just sneak them from work now. wait. don’t tell anyone that. 

anyway, it was a great idea, but that was two weeks ago. now the snack closet is empty and you have a room full of toddlers on the verge of anarchy because of it. because of jungkook.

you just watched him pass by your room, arms laden with cheez-its and rice krispie treats, and you know for a fact he doesn’t have a class today. he’s only here to touch up the mural he’s been asked to paint near the front desk, so all of those snacks must be for him. 

you get the teacher from next door to keep an eye on your kiddos so you can sneak to the front and steal a couple bags of cheez-its (the kids don’t need their own bag, they’ll never know). but you get there and find yourself distracted from completing your mission.

jungkook is wearing old sweats, spattered with paint here and there, and he’s stooped over a bucket of water with a paintbrush between his teeth. it’s cute. 

“jungkook,” you semi-shout to get his attention. you get a sort of “hmgpfh?” in response, and that’s enough for you. “do you seriously need this many snacks? just for yourself?”

“i’m a growing boy, y/n,” he replies, taking the paintbrush out of his mouth so he can dip it into a paper plate covered in red shades. “you can have one.”

“i need three, actually,” you reply, picking them up as you speak. 

“are you a growing boy too?”

“no, i have six little kids with bad attitudes waiting for me in my room so i’ll be taking these off your hands,” you explain, finally turning to look at the work jungkook has put on the wall. “wow.”

“you like it?” jungkook asks, turning to look at you with a smile and a dancing light in his eyes. “is the tree too much?”

“no, oh my god, this is really good, jungkook,” you assure him, tracing your eyes over the wall full of characters and scenery from various children’s books.

“thank you,” he replies. “it’s better than wiping asses all day.”

“watch your mouth.”

“why don’t you watch it for me?” he quips back, peeking up at you with a smirk.

“what does that even mean, jungkook.”

“just thought i’d try to make you blush,” he says with a shrug. “didn’t work this time.”

“i don’t think it works anytime, actually,” you mumble, but he ignores it.

“hey, are you busy this weekend?” he questions, inspecting a bottle of green before squirting some directly on the wall. 

“are you sure you know what you’re doing?” you ask with a laugh. you watch him frantically spread the paint around to resemble a bush.

“shut up. are you busy this weekend?” he asks again. 

“i don’t think so, why?”

“come to the lake with me,” he says as he stands up to meet your eyes. “one of my friends convinced his uncle to let us borrow his boat. it’ll be fun.”

“do any of you know how to drive a boat?” you ask. “the safety of all this is what would keep me away.”

“i’m sure yoongi hyung will be able to do it,” jungkook says halfheartedly. “but still, the boat could just stay docked. it would be fun either way.”

“when are you going?” 

“saturday, so i could come by yours and get you on my way?” he asks with a lot of hope in his voice. you shrug before responding.

“why not? sure.”

-

so, jungkook texts you late friday that he’ll pick you up at 7am saturday. what the fuck. you wouldn’t have said yes if you knew you had to leave that early, but jungkook explained that he’s the only one the uncle trusts to have the keys, so he has to get there before the world wakes up. but also, has this man met jungkook? jungkook, being trustworthy with small, easy to lose items? please.

nevertheless, you’re up bright and early on saturday with a very large thermos of coffee. jungkook texts you right at 7 that he’s outside, and when you walk out you see him at the back of his car trying to force something into the trunk.

“whatcha doin?” you ask as you approach, noticing his strong legs in his (surprisingly) short swim trunks. you’re now realizing you’ve never seen him in anything other than baggy pants, so his legs are a little...distracting. 

“trying to keep the beer bottles from rattling,” he says through clenched teeth.

“and you’re trying to fuse them together with sheer force?”

“no, i’m stuffing a towel in between them in the box but it’s really tight.”

“if hoseok were here he’d make a ‘that’s what she said’ joke,” you jest. 

“i thought about it,” jungkook replies. “so i guess that counts?”

as he talks, he rearranges the other things in the trunk so it can close easy, and as he lowers the door he turns to you.

“you look nice,” he says, eyes drifting over you quickly. he notices the coffee cup in your hand and smiles. “any chance that has the sickly sweet creamer in it that i like?”

“how would i know what coffee creamer you like?” you ask, slightly annoyed that he just assumes you pay that much attention to him but also annoyed that you got caught. 

“because you like me,” he replies, grabbing the thermos and taking a sip. “oh my god, i love you.”

“you better be talking to the coffee,” you warn him as you grab the coffee back from him. 

“i’ll say it to you someday,” he promises, walking around to the passenger side of the car before opening your door. “if you let me.”

“what’s gotten into you lately?” you ask with a smile. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a little crush on jungkook, and recently it’s gotten worse. after you started working together, you noticed how many shared friends you have, so you’ve been hanging out more and more the past few months. jungkook has always been more than nice to you, but these flirty little comments are a welcome change. you hope they keep coming.

“is it cool if we stop at the gas station real quick?” he asks as he gets into the driver’s seat. “it’s an hour drive and i need gas and snacks.”

“fine with me. how about cheez-its and rice krispies?” 

“i had my fill of those at work this week, thanks,” jungkook laughs. 

at the gas station, you offer to get the snacks while jungkook stays at the pump. you’re looking for your favorite gas station snack, a crappy fruit and cheese danish that you could eat every day. jungkook finds you bent over in the sweets aisle, ass poking out too much for him to pass by and not push your face right into the premade baked goods. he considers it, because funny, but mean. he also considers passing behind you and smacking your ass as he does so you’ll move. tempting, but maybe too far. he opts for just bending down next to you to see what’s so interesting.

“what are we looking for?” he asks, scanning the labels for something to try.

“cherry and cheese,” you tell him, moving a blueberry danish out of the way, hoping to find what you want, but no luck.

“what? that sounds gross,” jungkook replies as he stands. “you like that?”

“it’s one of my favorites,” you tell him as you move into a squat. jungkook slides behind you and looks for his favorite jelly candy as you keep searching. “what’s so gross about it? they go well together.”

“like us.”

“what?” 

“huh?” jungkook asks, staring down at you with a glint in his eyes. the glare you give him is definitely ignored as jungkook looks back up and spots something on the top shelf. he grabs it and hands it to you. “this what you want?”

“yeah, it is,” you reply. “thanks. get another one for yourself.”

“why?” he asks, screwing his face up in disgust.

“because i know you’ll want to try some even with the way you’re acting right now, and i don’t like sharing.” 

“whatever you say,” he grumbles with a roll of his eyes. “now help me find the sour worms.”

-

jungkook tried the danish, and he hated it. 

have you ever seen a baby eating a lemon? it was like that, except jungkook spat what was in his mouth into his hand and then tossed it out the window of his car as he drove. sure, that whole part was gross, but he looked cute when he didn’t like the danish. who doesn’t love babies making silly faces? 

“i can’t believe you like that, but i can’t believe you convinced me to try it,” jungkook complains.

“kook, i think if i told you electrocuting yourself was fun you would try it just because i said i liked it,” you reply. he thinks about it for a moment before nodding, a slight tint gracing his cheeks.

“you’re right, but that’s not gonna make me finish your gross choice of snack.”

“fine, more for me,” you say, grabbing the discarded treat in the cupholder. you take a bite, not really caring that jungkook’s mouth was on it before you.

“omg.”

“did you just say ‘omg’ out loud?”

“yes, why?”

“you’re a loser,” you laugh, taking another bite, causing jungkook to gasp again. “what?”

“it’s like we just kissed,” he replies, almost giggling through his toothy smile.

“what do you even mean by that.”

“we just swapped spit.”

“you’re disgusting. stop talking.”

“hey, you’re the one that wants to kiss me,” jungkook says with a shrug. you want to protest, but you don’t want to convince him that you’re totally against kissing him. you’d actually very much like to plant your lips on his and never let go, but life doesn’t always give you what you want. jungkook notices your silence and smiles. “you’re not denying it.”

“i’m being polite.”

“mmmhmm,” he replies, failing to hide how pleased he is as he pulls into a treacherously sloped driveway. “we’re here.”

-

it’s turning into a beautiful day. the morning chill is starting to slowly melt away, and you find yourself sweating slightly as you help jungkook move all of the junk from his car. he insisted on doing it himself, but you felt super weird just standing there while he huffed and puffed carrying things back and forth, so you finally jumped in. it’s still just the two of you here, the friend’s uncle had successfully given you both a crash course on how to handle the boat, and you’re confident the two of you can share that info with yoongi when he gets here and hopefully no one will get hurt. 

speaking of yoongi, he said he was a few minutes away, and that was more than a few minutes ago. maybe he and hoseok got lost. the final four (as they’ve been calling themselves all morning) will be here later because taehyung didn’t have a swimsuit and they had to make a pit stop at walmart to get him one. you’re familiar with jungkook’s friends, and comfortable with a couple of them, but you don’t know much about taehyung aside from his interest in art and now his view on the boxer vs briefs debate (he was apparently very picky when trying on said swimsuits). but whatever. they’ll get here eventually. 

before you know it, you and jungkook have unloaded all of the snacks, alcohol and water accessories from his car, so all that’s left to do is hang out until the boys get here. 

“you ready?” jungkook asks, offering you his hand. you give him a questioning look and he motions to the boat. “c’mon, we’re not gonna sit here in the sun while we wait for them. it’s hot as balls.”

“but it’s hot as balls on the boat too,” you counter as you take his outstretched hand and let him pull you behind him on the dock.

“yeah, but at least we’re on a boat.”

he leads you to the edge of the shaky dock and let’s go of your hand momentarily to steady himself as he steps over to the boat. he turns back and offers his hand again, giving yours a squeeze as he guides you over the gap of water. the boat is slippery, so you lose your footing slightly and jungkook reacts quickly by wrapping you in his arms. the boat is bobbing a little too much for your liking, but jungkook is giggling and that distracts you enough from the fact that you could’ve fallen just now. 

as you both stand there awkwardly staring at each other, you don’t notice yoongi’s car pulling up to the top of the hill and its two passengers walking out toward the water. 

“oooh, what do we have here?” hoseok asks as he sees you holding onto each other for dear life. you separate quickly, making the newcomers laugh.

“don’t stop because we’re here,” yoongi replies.

“yeah, i can hug yoongi if it makes things less awkward for you,” hoseok offers.

“please don’t do that,” yoongi quips back.

“i’ll get you when you least expect it, hyung.”

jungkook, still standing very close to you, clears his throat and waves yoongi over. you scoot around them to help hoseok with the bag of food in his hands.

“are you sure you know how to drive a boat, yoongi?” you ask. 

“i’m a fast learner,” he replies.

“that’s not very reassuring.”

“i’ve done it before, y/n,” he laughs. “just not with this kind of motor, but it won’t take long to figure out. everything will be nice and safe, i promise.”

“besides, we have jungkookie here to save you even if hyung throws us overboard,” hoseok jokes.

speaking of jungkook, he’s rustling around the boat, trying to figure out how to put the suncover up. his jacket from this morning has been tossed aside, and he’s in a baggy tank top. you allow yourself a moment to admire the way his muscles ripple as he works when you notice -

“you finished your sleeve?” you ask him. his head snaps up in your direction and he smiles.

“enjoying the show?” he teases.

“answer the question.”

“honestly, i wanted it to be a surprise,” he replies, stretching the arm out and turning it around as best he can.

“so what, you were gonna take your shirt off and punch me and that’s how i was supposed to find out?”

“are you offering?”

“i’m just mad you didn’t take me with you! i was gonna get something this time,” you complain with a slight pout, which jungkook scrunches his nose at. you’re really cute, he thinks to himself.

“my artist called me last minute and said they had an opening, so i went in as soon as i could. i think you were still handling six hungry toddlers,” he explains.

“so is that why you invited me today?” you laugh. “you couldn’t think of a reasonable way to take your shirt off in front of me so i had to come with you to the lake for the big reveal?”

“jungkook, if you say yes, then jin and i are giving you the sex talk. you gotta up your game,” yoongi mumbles.

“no,” jungkook insists, ignoring yoongi. “i invited you today because i think it’ll be fun and i wanted you to be here.”

“and he wanted to see you in a swimsuit,” hoseok adds, pulling some cookies out of the bag of snacks. he offers them to you and you gladly accept. then he turns and pops one into yoongi’s mouth as he yawns, before he tosses one over to jungkook, happily shouting “a cookie for kookie!”

“that’s cute,” you smile, liking the way hoseok babies jungkook. it’s got him flustered, and it’s kind of adorable.

“kook, did you hear that? y/n thinks you’re cute,” hoseok sing-songs.

“i- that’s not...i didn’t say that,” you stumble. “the rhyming was cute. if anything, i called hoseok cute.”

“everyone thinks hobi is cute,” yoongi replies. “but jungkook? eh.”

“eh?!” jungkook shouts. “i’m just eh to you hyung?”

“now you hurt the boy’s feelings,” you tell yoongi, and he shrugs.

“you should’ve just called him cute.”

you look over and notice jungkook is staring at you, an eyebrow quirked in a challenge. hoseok is watching and munching like this is a movie, and yoongi looks between you and the so-called cutie and laughs to himself.

“well?” jungkook asks.

“i mean, yeah, you are cute, sometimes,” you begin. “not when you’re being annoying though.”

“i’m not annoying!”

“yes you are,” hoseok and yoongi agree in unison. jungkook huffs at that and looks back at you.

“now my feelings are hurt again. talk more about me being cute,” he pleads as he finally gives up on the suncover and joins you on the wraparound couch of the boat. he’s looking at you with the absolute worst puppy dog eyes, so you keep going.

“uh, you’re cute with the kids i guess? like when they use you as their personal playground and you’re all giggling. that’s cute,” you offer. “or when the little girls get hurt, they always run to you first and you cheer them up with sweet songs.”

“hmm, family planning perhaps?” you hear hoseok joke with yoongi. 

you would go on (or deny how often you’ve thought about jungkook being a dad) but the other car of boys has finally arrived, so the two instigators leave the boat to help them unload. that leaves you next to jungkook, who’s not done talking about the cute stuff.

“i didn’t know you noticed all of that,” jungkook whispers, suddenly sitting very close to you. you try to act like it’s nothing, but he stops you. “ah ah, now it’s my turn.”

“your turn? for what?”

“for talking about how cute you are,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing ever. if he had his way he would be pulling up a whole powerpoint presentation right now, but he has to rely on his words, which is fine. “first of all, you have great style. you’re maybe the only person who can make the daycare uniform look like a capital o outfit everyday you come in. and the way your eyes light up when a kid tells you a story, or shows you something they made? that’s my favorite. wish you would look at me like that someday.”

“you...what?” you almost can’t believe where this conversation has gone, but it’s making your heart beat faster and you’re not ready for it to stop.

“i wish i could make your eyes light up like i’m the only person you can see,” he clarifies, locking eyes with you. he holds your gaze for a moment before his eyes flick down to your lips. you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t so close, but the movement was obvious. jungkook wants to kiss you. 

“and what would you do if they did?” you challenge, repeating the same glance from his eyes down to his lips. your gaze lingers a little longer, and when you look back up at jungkook you know what’s coming next. that doesn’t mean it’s not shocking, though.

kissing jungkook is like pulling down a piece of the sun and slamming it into your chest. the warmth that he exudes, and the softness of his lips as they caress yours, it’s perfect. but - 

“wait,” jungkook mumbles against your lips. you pull back, worried.

“what?”

“i did that wrong.”

“wha..how? jungkook, i thought that was nice,” you assure him but he shakes his head.

“i did it wrong,” he insists, looking at you and noticing the shine in your eyes that he was hoping for. “can i kiss you again?”

you nod and let out a quiet “yes” before jungkook is cupping your face and connecting your lips again. this one is stronger, more intentional and you’re glad he wanted to try again. not that the first kiss was bad, your mind is still reeling from that first one. but this feels like a kiss full of love. it feels like a kiss from someone that’s been pining for you over bags of cheez-its and funny kid stories, but they didn’t know how to tell you how badly they wanted to do this. jungkook didn’t know how to tell you, but now he doesn’t have to because this kiss tells you everything you need to know.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jeongguk #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook one shot

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Two

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

content warnings: secondhand embarrassment, i dont know how skiing works, poor editing, NSFW 🔥

***

To Nesta’s horror, Cassian was serious when he said he’d teach her how to ski. Nevermind the fact that it’s his birthday, and they should be having a lazy morning together filled with cuddles and breakfast in bed. Instead, they’ve been up since six in the morning without food or drink, just to shuffle around in the snow while Cassian repeats the same instructions over and over. By late morning, the rest of their group has gotten up and joined them at the beginner’s trail to be firsthand witnesses to Nesta’s humiliation.

She stares down at the blinding white slope before her and inhales a breath of frigid mountain air, trying to steel her nerves before she has to push off the ground and take flight.

Cassian sees her hesitation and sighs. “Come on, Nesta,” he urges. “It’s thirty feet to the bottom of the hill.”

“Why is it so steep?” she demands, even though she knows this is a practice hill. Toddlers in skis are shuffling around them, hand in hand with their parents.

“You’re not falling to the bottom,” Cassian says, growing impatient. “You’re gliding.”

He’s already shown her how to maneuver with skis a dozen times already, and Nesta can see that he doesn’t have another dozen times left in him. Unfortunately for him, Nesta’s own patience was used up hours ago. Her stomach pangs with hunger, and she has a pounding headache from the cold and lack of sleep.

“Oh, come on, Nesta,” Gwyn calls from behind her. She hops up and down in her snow boots like a cheerleader. “You can do it!”

Nesta does not want to do it. She looks down at the hill, then back at Cassian with pleading eyes—eyes that he can’t see under her ski goggles anyway.

“I can’t take this anymore,” Azriel mutters from somewhere. He picks up his ski poles and points to Emerie. “Ski lift?”

“Sure—” she starts to say, and then remembers that she’s here to support Nesta. “Not now,” she amends.

“Just go,” Cassian turns to tell them. “At least some of us will be having fun.” Nesta watches as he goes over to Emerie and Az to give advice on the trails, the same frustration from last night building in her chest.

Stupid ski trip. Stupid uninvited guests. Stupid birthday that Cassian isn’t even treating like a birthday.

Gritting her teeth, Nesta jabs her ski poles into the ground. She’ll conquer this hill, and then she’ll conquer the rest of the trail, and then she’ll take her skis and set them on fire.

With everyone briefly preoccupied and no eyes on her, Nesta pushes herself downhill. Her skis slip a little as she takes off but she readjusts her feet the way Cassian showed her, regaining control. She takes a deep breath, realizing the height isn’t as scary as she thought it would be. Testingly, she bends her knees and pushes herself farther, gaining speed.

“Oh, oh, look!” she hears Gwyn say from behind her. “She’s doing it!”

The voice breaks Nesta out of her precarious concentration, and she almost misses the kid right in front of her skiing at the pace of a turtle. Gasping, Nesta swerves at the last second to avoid running him over.

Her skis clack into each other and she feels her ankle twist, and then she’s down. Hard. Her face meets snow and her ski gear jabs into her body as she tumbles down the rest of the hill, until she finally meets flat ground and rolls to a painful stop.

Nesta only hears a dull roar in her ears as she slowly pushes herself upright. Ignoring alarmed looks from stray skiers around her, she reaches forward and unstraps one ski from her foot, then the other. Her goggles fall to the ground next. Once free, she stands up and walks away, ignoring the calls of her friends from the hilltop.

She walks until she loses sight of the trail and then the resort, until the flattened and trampled snow piles up into powdery mounds untouched by human presence. A cropping of towering evergreens appears before her, and she heads straight for the thicket without pausing.

Once safely entombed by the dark tree trunks and frosted branches, Nesta releases a breath and screams. Screams until the frustration and anger within her bluntens just a little.

The forest absorbs her fire and answers with silence.

“Better now?” Cassian’s voice comes from behind her.

Nesta whirls, ready to fling her next scream at him for having the nerve to follow her, but she only restrains herself because it’s his birthday. Guilt and humiliation nips at her; she shouldn’t be doing this on his birthday. “Leave me alone.” Her voice is raw from shrieking.

Cassian only takes a step closer to Nesta, eyeing her up and down. “You’re not hurt, right? ’Cause that would be embarrassing for you.”

Any edge that was taken off starts to build up again, and Nesta really doesn’t want to look at him right now. “Cassian—”

“Your face is turning red,” he suddenly gasps, pointing. “You should try yelling again, babe. I don’t think the entire resort heard you last time.”

Done with her boyfriend’s shit, Nesta releases a growl and rushes at him. He’s a lot closer than she realized, and in a blink she slams right into his broad chest and shoves him with all her might.

Cassian laughs, short and blunt, and pushes her right back. Her back hits hard-packed snow and then he’s on top of her, pinning her wrists loosely beside her head. Icy wetness seeps past the neck of her jacket.

“Do you want me to fucking bite you?” Nesta snarls, getting in Cassian’s face.

“Always,” he says without hesitation, pressing closer to her. “But first you gotta take a breather.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she seethes back. At this rate, she really might bite him. She wants to see his smug face drop when he realizes he pushed her too far.

“You might have an aneurysm at this rate with your anger issues.” He pouts prettily. “Imagine how sad that would make me.”

“I DON’T HAVE ANGER ISSUES!” she shrieks.

Cassian barely blinks. Nesta breathes heavily in the ensuing silence, realizing how embarrassing this is for her. Yet she doesn’t know how to stop.

Closing her eyes, she drops her head to the ground and turns away. Wishing she could sink into the ground and vanish for a few minutes, at least until she gets herself under control again.

After a moment of quiet, she feels the back of Cassian’s fingers brush her neck. “I wondered where that spitfire girl went,” he says lowly. “She didn’t die. You just hid her very well.”

Nesta’s body doesn’t know whether to feel soothed or incited by the touch, the words. “Does it make you happy?” she breathes, her eyes still closed. “That she’s still there?”

“It would be murder if you ever got rid of her. Don’t you dare,” he threatens.

Nesta huffs a derisive laugh. It’s easy for him to say, when he isn’t the one that has to live with it. “I bet you’re enjoying this.”

“Only if you are.” He sounds completely genuine, and Nesta feels him pluck something out of her hair—likely a snowflake.

Realizing Cassian has long since released her wrists, she opens her eyes and stares at the column of his neck. She doesn’t see the regret and concern on his face when he says, “I ruined today, didn’t I?” She watches him swallow before he adds, “I’m sorry, Nes.”

“It’s your birthday,” she mutters, looking away. “You can do whatever you want.” Even if it’s spending the whole day skiing.

“You’re right about that.” His warm breath hits her nose, and now that Nesta’s head is somewhat clear, she can feel every place where his body settles into hers.

Before she can betray herself and forget how upset she was at him only a few minutes ago, Cassian pushes up and off of her. Frigid air replaces where he was just sprawled, and then he’s holding out a hand to Nesta. “We’re going back to our room,” he says, watching Nesta’s feet closely as he helps her stand. “You can ride on my back.”

“Why?” Nesta grumbles, brushing herself off. “I can walk fine.”

“You twisted your right ankle on the way down that hill, and you started limping as soon as you thought you were out of sight.” Cassian turns around and points at his back. “Get on while I’m being nice.”

That makes Nesta scoff, because he’s always nice, but she has little fight left today. She tries to reach up to wrap her arms around his neck, but Cassian grabs her legs and hitches her up onto his back before she can struggle.

She responds with a scowl, clasping her hands across his chest and getting comfortable. “You noticed I was hurt but didn’t have a problem with tackling me to the ground?”

Cassian squeezes her thighs and holds her closer, tossing a blinding smile over his shoulder. “Sorry if I wasn’t expecting you to try to jump me with an injured foot. You took me by surprise.”

“Bullshit,” Nesta says as they start walking out of the trees. “You did it on purpose.”

“Do you like starting fights, Archeron?”

“Do you?” she retorts.

They bicker back and forth like that until they reach the resort, and even once they’re inside the lobby, Cassian doesn’t put Nesta down. The exhaustion of the day has settled over the both of them by then, and the elevator ride up to the penthouse is peacefully quiet.

Back at the empty suite, Cassian carefully lowers Nesta to her feet. “Take your clothes off,” is all he says before heading for the bathroom, shedding his heavy outer jacket as he goes. Nesta has no problem listening; she’s all too happy to take her snow-drenched gear off and breathe air-conditioned air again.

She only realizes as she’s removing her boots that her overwrought emotions must have dulled the real pain of her fall. Her entire body aches down to the bone, and her twisted ankle has it the worst. Inspecting the swollen skin around her foot, she wonders if Cassian will make her see a doctor when the sound of a running faucet pulls her attention. Still dressed in her thermal underwear, Nesta pads over to the bathroom.

Inside, the room is dim, and the only light comes in from the single window panel at the far end of the room. Cassian sits on the rim of the clawfoot tub as it fills with heated water, already naked.

Nesta coughs, caught off guard. The sight is far from unfamiliar to her, and yet she hates to admit that she’ll never not react to it.

Cassian looks up at her, meeting her eyes head on, and a giggle almost escapes her.

“What’s that dumb look on your face?” he says with high brows. “Take your clothes off and get in.”

Nesta firmly schools her face into obedience. Is she a grown woman or a schoolgirl? she chides herself as she strips naked. But as soon as she’s free of her top and leggings, Cassian stops her. “Turn around,” he says.

Is this a sex thing? She hopes it’s a sex thing. She does as she’s told, and hears Cassian hiss in a breath. Glancing at the mirror over the sink, Nesta winces when she realizes what he sees. “Damn.” Her back is peppered with still-forming bruises from her fall, along with her legs and ribs.

Getting up, Cassian approaches her and cautiously runs his fingers over a reddened spot on her ribs. “I think a ski pole stabbed me there,” Nesta says, frowning down at the bruise. She looks like shit, and not at all in a desirable way.

“How’s your ankle?” Cassian kneels to check for himself, handling her like a porcelain doll. He presses gently above the bone where she twisted it. “Does that hurt?”

Nesta considers saying yes, just so he can keep fussing over her like this, but she shakes her head. “I’m fine. Just a little achy.”

A sudden chaste kiss between her legs makes her yelp, and she twists to find Cassian still on his knees, grinning sheepishly up at her. “You know what can help with those aches?”

Nesta blanks as Cassian runs a calloused hand up her inner leg. “Uh…really good dick?”

Cassian is visibly trying not to smile when he says, “A bath.” He stands and turns the faucet off, before going to help Nesta into the tub.

Steaming hot water just beneath the point of being uncomfortable hits Nesta’s calves, then her hips and chest. She might moan in relief as she sinks into the bath.

Cassian settles in across from her, taking up most of the tub space as Nesta twists her ponytail into a bun. He takes her ankle onto his lap and starts massaging above the injury. He notes, “We haven’t been alone like this in ages.”

“I remember when it was my job to be the chill guy,” he continues, rubbing circles into her leg. “I was the one doing stupid shit, and now I have to tell other people to knock it off when they do stupid shit. Since when did Azriel take my role?” he mutters to himself.

Nesta tilts her head against the lip of the tub and watches Cassian, taking in the barely visible lines of weariness on his face. She was once in a similar boat, too, where she had no one to answer to but herself. “Do you miss it?” she asks hesitantly. “Life before we got to know each other?” A life spent in the company of his friends, meeting different women every other week and being as free as possible.

“No,” he says easily. “I miss life before we had to share each other with other people.” He meets her eyes and smirks. “Who knew monogamy could be so exciting?”

Nesta’s stomach curls at his honesty, and she doesn’t know what to say. In the silence, Cassian reaches for a washcloth and lathers it with a bar of pine scented soap. But before he can reach for Nesta, she snatches the washcloth from him and pulls herself forward into the cradle of his limbs. What she can’t say, she’ll just have to show.

She starts soaping up his arms, granting extra attention to his tattooed biceps.

“You’re hurt—” he tries to protest.

“Shut up.” She runs the washcloth over his shoulders, across his collarbones.

When Nesta reaches his chest, she starts, “Earlier in the woods...I lost control.”

Cassian looks wary, but she goes on, “I don’t know why I did that. I thought I didn’t do that anymore.”

“I know why,” he says simply. “You were having a bad day. It was overwhelming.” He shrugs.

“But I’m better than that,” she insists. “You might think it's cute or funny when I—lose it, but I spent years training myself not to fall apart at the slightest inconvenience.” She takes in a breath, her movements slowing. “I learned how to escape reality, remember? I climbed into books and TV and songs, and at one point my entire life passed me by because I refused to participate in it. If I didn't participate, I couldn't be hurt.” She wrings out the washcloth, and Cassian carefully pries it out of her grip.

Nesta places her empty hands on her thighs, avoiding his touch, his eyes. “I think you were one of the only people who ever made me want to come back to real life,” she offers awkwardly. “That's why you made me uncomfortable at first. There were times I would look at you and think, He's better than anyone from the books. If I start living on the same plane as him, I can have him. Does that make sense?”

Cassian swallows visibly, but nods.

“It seemed like an impossible thing to do at the time—participate in the real world, make real friends. But have you noticed? I don’t read as many romance novels anymore.” Not because she doesn’t love them, but because she no longer needs them to remind herself she's alive.

She looks up at him, searching for his thoughts and opinions. Cassian looks like he's doing the same with her face, but then he says, “If you need to scream, even if it’s at me, tell me. I’ll take you somewhere far away, or I’ll let you have it out right in front of everyone. Whatever the hell you want, as long as you tell me. Please.”

Nesta starts to shake her head, adamant, but he stops her with the most pitiful look he's ever given her. “There’s nothing I hate seeing more than you trying to swallow down your rough edges. Even in the woods, you were about to tame yourself before I provoked you.” Cassian holds out a pinky, completely serious. “Consider it my birthday gift. Don’t do that shit anymore.”

Nesta stares at him, his plea warring with years of conditioned self-restraint. “I already got you a birthday gift,” she finally grumbles, but hooks his pinky with hers.

He seems satisfied, but doesn't let go of her pinky. With surprising strength, he uses their hooked fingers to pull Nesta into him, and she just barely catches herself on his chest before he brings her head down and kisses her deep.

Nesta already has her legs adjusted around his waist and his cock pressed against her stomach before she can pull away far enough to choke, “What’s this for?”

He leans up and catches her lips with his again, dipping his tongue just far enough inside to flick the roof of her mouth before retreating. “For existing. And for those aches.” He presses down lightly on a bruise at her back and runs a soothing thumb over it right after. Between her thighs, she feels him growing hard.

Nesta huffs a distracted laugh, the steam from the water sending a red flush up her chest and neck. It's suddenly very hot, and she unconsciously squirms in his lap. “I just realized I’ve never had sex in the bath before,” she says out of nowhere, rubbing her chest and quickly dropping her arms. She’s babbling, she knows. Contrary to popular media, being a seductress is harder than it looks. Half the time she has no idea what to say, and she considers herself lucky that Cassian is driven wild by it anyway.

Cassian entertains her, nodding along while his fingers slip past her ass, brushing her folds. “That sounds like something that should be amended, don’t you think?”

“Well, in terms of comfort I’m not sure if it’ll be better than the shower—” She’s cut off by a finger teasing at her entrance, making her jerk. “Yes,” she says quickly. “Yes, it should be amended.”

He hums thoughtfully, leaning in to nibble and suck at her neck. Her hardened nipples brush against his chest, and Nesta pushes closer into Cassian’s embrace. She’s half-rocking against him when she rasps, “How do you give head in the bath? Do I, like, have to hold my breath underwater?”

“You don’t need to know how,” he mutters, grasping her by the hips and tugging her up so that he’s eye level with her chest. He starts leaving a trail of openmouthed kisses across her breasts. “You’re not doing anything I don’t tell you to do today.”

“What do you mean?” Nesta’s grip on Cassian’s shoulders tightens when he brings a pink nipple into his mouth, sucking hard and pulling off with a flick of his tongue. She can’t move her hips for fear of climaxing at the slightest touch. “It’s your birthday,” she manages to get out. “And I like seeing what I can do to you.”

“Then save it for your birthday.” He pulls her back down firmly into his lap, making her thighs clench with restraint. “Because I like seeing what I do to you more.”

To prove his point, he parts her legs and slips one finger inside her. The smug pride on his face at what he finds makes Nesta move to grip the rim of the tub. Having a pretty boyfriend might have been a mistake, she thinks. That kind of face will get away with anything. Right now, for example.

“Tell me what you want, then,” she pleads.

Cassian leans back, pretending to think. “Sit on my cock,” he finally says.

An easy enough order, one Nesta is all too excited to carry out in only a few movements. It takes a minute to adjust to the fullness and the stretch, and the water doesn’t help in dousing the fire in her veins at all. With heat pounding deep in her core, Nesta releases a terse breath. Her tongue darts out to wet her lower lip, and Cassian watches.

“Now don’t move,” he orders.

“What?” Nesta’s knees involuntarily clench around his hips, her body already craving the feel of moving against him, on top of him.

He levels her with a look. “No clenching, no rocking, no touching.” He hisses in a thoughtful breath, combing a wet hand through his hair. “Actually, that isn’t very fair, is it?”

Nesta is about to nod furiously when he says, “You still need to wash yourself.” He hands her the washcloth she used on him earlier and leans his elbow on the rim of the tub. “Be quick about it. No games.”

Nesta’s eyes widen, looking at the washcloth, then back up at Cassian. Excitement tingles in her fingers and toes, and she doesn’t want to argue with him.

Gulping tightly, she soaps up the washcloth, then smooths the lather over her arms. It’s hard to focus on what she’s doing when there’s a pounding pressure between her legs, and the only thing that keeps her going is that she’ll be rewarded when she’s done. Cassian doesn’t bother watching her, instead tipping his head back against the tub and closing his eyes. From this angle, the tendons in his neck stand out clearly, and the hard line of his jaw looks tense. Nothing on his calm face reveals that Nesta is the reason for his tension, though.

Bringing the soapy cloth over her breasts, Nesta looks up to see if Cassian is secretly peeking at her through his lashes. His eyes remain shut, the perfect portrait of a man at rest.

Suddenly, his hips shift beneath hers, and Nesta nearly drops the washcloth. Straightening up, she has to use herculean strength to force her inner walls to relax around him. “You moved,” she accuses him.

“I was getting comfortable,” he says, still not opening his eyes.

“Why can you move but I can’t?”

That gets him to look at her. His eyes are hooded and lazy when he says, “You’re still talking?”

“Maybe if you had clearly explained the rules—” Nesta starts to grumble, but shuts up when he quirks a brow at her. She won’t lose this game, not for anything—even if she’s split at the seams with Cassian inside her and is one thread away from completely snapping.

Now fully alert, Cassian watches Nesta finish washing up. He hasn’t touched her once since he pulled her onto his cock, and now Nesta tries to make up for the aching lack by pretending her roaming hands are his.

It’s not until the washcloth reaches her tummy that Nesta pauses, her hand frozen over her lower abdomen. Because there, even past the cloth, she can feel him. The skin just slightly bulges, and she looks down at herself with her lips slightly fallen apart. She didn’t realize he was nestled so deep in her, but now she swallows past a lump in her throat. “Cassian…” she starts weakly. Every last muscle is trembling with the effort to stay still. Can he really be unaffected by all of this? Is she really the only one dying right now?

Without intending to, her hand drops the cloth, slipping toward her clit. She can only brush the sensitive nub before Cassian says quietly, “Don’t.”

So this is against the rules, too. She can’t even bring herself to look at him, she’s strung so tight. Taking a shallow breath, she grabs the pitcher from the shelf by the tub and fills it with water, using it to rinse off the suds. When she’s done, with water droplets running down every inch of her, she dares to look at Cassian again. Her anxiousness to get this over with must be written all over her face, and yet.

“Good,” Cassian says, voice just a little grated.

Nesta’s heart rate picks up a beat. She’s finally getting her reward.

“Now sit still and pretty while I rest,” he says, sinking even lower into the tub—and causing his cock to dig even deeper into Nesta. “This is a bath, not a splash pad.”

Nesta chokes. “What—I thought—”

“Hm?”

She presses her lips together tightly, refusing to protest. He can’t make her warm his cock like this forever, can he? Soon enough he’ll crack.

Four minutes in, and he doesn’t crack. While Nesta gets closer to crying by the second, she has yet to find evidence that he’s even aware of her presence. Her only proof is the fact that he’s still rock hard, occasionally twitching against the depths of her walls.

At five minutes in, Nesta can’t help it. She breaks, and her inner muscles clamp around Cassian with a viselike grip. She half-sobs in pain and relief, and her hips jerk of their own accord.

Cassian’s eyes fly open at that, the pupils blown wide, and Nesta has to catch herself on his chest to keep from crumbling. If she had half a working brain left, she would have noticed the trembling restraint that lines Cassian’s limbs, or the way his eyes burn with welling desire and even sympathy. Instead, she turns her face into his chest and begs weakly, “Pleasepleaseplease.” Her thighs keep shifting, rubbing back and forth to create friction, but she can’t give herself permission to move the way she truly needs until Cassian gives her permission.

Nesta feels Cassian’s broad hand come up to carefully brush her back. She nearly weeps with relief at the touch, but he doesn’t go any further. “What do you want, baby?” he says roughly.

“You,” she forces out. She doesn’t care if this is losing.

“Me, what?” He sounds like he’s about to lose, too.

“I want you to fuck me.” She’s nearly whimpering, trying not to squirm on his lap.

Cassian, the horrible bastard, has the nerve to snicker in her ear, though he sounds more than a little wrecked when he says, “Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

In a flash, he has Nesta pinned against the porcelain tub. And before she can decide whether to laugh or moan or cry at the turn of events, Cassian covers her mouth with his and thrusts into her, giving her everything she wants.

***

Hours later, after they’ve sated themselves on sex and food and Cassian is napping sprawled out across Nesta’s back, she receives a text from Azriel telling her he won’t be there to celebrate the rest of Cassian’s birthday.

Az: You two deserve the alone time. Also I didn’t get him a present.

Another text pops up before Nesta can reply.

Az: I did order a cake to be sent up to your room, though. Don’t worry, there’s not a picture of your boobs on it.

Nesta’s eyes widen at that, not knowing why—or how—that would be an option. But she completely forgot about getting cake in all the unexpected hassle of their vacation, and not for the first time is she grateful that Azriel came along with them on their trip.

Typing back a quick thank you, Nesta clicks her phone off and curls further into Cassian’s warmth. He shifts on top of her, hugging her closer, and a moment later she feels his nose poking at the crook of her neck. “Good morning,” he murmurs thickly, sleep coating his voice.

“It’s six p.m,” she snickers. The sun slipped behind the mountains just a few minutes ago, leaving the room a blue dark.

Cassian responds by slipping his hands under her oversized tee, rubbing the muscles along her back. “Where’s everyone else?” They haven’t seen Gwyn, Emerie, or Az in hours.

Nesta turns around in Cassian’s arms to face him. “Consider them gone. We’re by ourselves for the rest of the night.”

He perks up at that. “Really?”

A knock sounds from the penthouse door, and Nesta remembers Azriel’s text. She squirms out from under Cassian’s weight with some difficulty and stands off the bed. She points a stern finger at him. “Don’t move from here,” she orders. “I’ll be back.”

Cassian leans back, looking questioning and amused, but Nesta has already jammed her feet into slippers and left the room by then.

She accepts the covered platter from room service at the door and leaves a tip, before carrying the cake over to the coffee table in the living area and setting it down. Within ten minutes, she has an entire setup arranged: the fireplace is up and roaring, the fur throw she stole from Cassian’s couch to bring on vacation is spread out before it, and the cake candles are lit. The Italian dinner that she ordered earlier also arrives by then, and once everything is laid out, she calls for Cassian to come downstairs.

He’s fully dressed in a sweater and jeans when he appears at the top of the short set of stairs, and he looks so excited to see her that he doesn’t notice the cake or the dinner until he’s only a few steps away from her. Very slowly, his smile freezes. “What’s all this?”

“It’s your birthday,” Nesta says. “Duh.”

“But I thought we already celebrated,” he stumbles, looking around. “With the skiing, and the bathtub—”

Nesta makes a face. “You thought that was celebrating?” She shakes her head and beckons Cassian over to the fur throw, right before the table decked out with food.

He sits down beside Nesta, looking over her in nothing but her thin white shirt. “Are you cold? Do you want my sweater?”

She rolls her eyes as far back as they can go. “No, I want you to focus and make a wish before 6:27.”

“How do you know my birth time?”

“Will you do it or not?” she threatens. The candle wax is melting onto the cake.

Cassian stares at her for a moment longer before finally facing the cake. Closing his eyes, he mouths something unintelligible and blows the candles out.

Nesta claps softly. “Happy two years away from thirty. What did you wish for?” She leans closer.

He leans away. “It doesn’t come true if you go around announcing it.”

Nesta’s shoulders drop. “Wishes aren’t real, Cassian.”

“That’s what you say.” He swipes a dollop of chocolate frosting off the cake with his finger and holds it out to Nesta.

Smiling, she wraps her lips around his finger, scraping the chocolate off with her teeth and licking it clean. He sucks on the same finger when she’s done, chasing after her taste and the lingering frosting. “What do you want first?” he asks. “Dinner or dessert?”

“This.” Nesta pulls out a small box from under the table, placing it in front of Cassian. She didn’t have time to find wrapping paper or a bag, but she’s a bit proud of herself anyway.

Cassian once again looks taken by surprise. “You didn’t have to…” He trails off as he reaches for the box. It’s already obvious what it is, but he still opens it carefully, hesitantly.

He stares at the silver watch for a little while and then looks back up at Nesta. “I…” He clears his throat.

“What do you think?” In all honesty, Nesta already knows. But she needs to hear it from him.

He meets her eyes. “It’s so…normal. Do you know what I mean?”

It’s the type of gift that Nesta’s mother would have given to her father, the type of gift that wives would give to their husbands. Not necessarily original or thoughtful, but domestic.

“Since you like to spend your time thinking about taxes and minivans and stuff,” Nesta says, remembering their last conversation about the future, “I thought you’d like something normal.”

Cassian laughs at that. He takes the watch out of the box and turns it over in the firelight, still a little dumbstruck. “I love it,” he says roughly.

Nesta kicks him in the knee. “It’s a watch, not an engagement ring.”

But he doesn’t hear a word, already clasping it onto his wrist.

***

Their last day at the resort starts early with Gwyn, Emerie, and Az banging on the suite door at five in the morning. Though Cassian is already up by then, Nesta snarls and snaps like a bitch at being dragged out of bed to watch the sunrise.

With everyone’s bags packed and waiting at the door, they all gather on the balcony connected to the suite in content silence. Azriel nurses a thermos of coffee that he refuses to share with Cassian, and Nesta is wrapped up in that fur throw she loves, half-asleep against Emerie.

When the sky starts lightening, Cassian pulls Nesta away from Emerie and into his body. “You’re gonna miss it,” he murmurs onto the top of her head.

She blinks awake, looking out at the sky slowly being streaked with a dozen colors. From here, the view over the mountains and the quiet town some miles beneath the resort is breathtaking. Easily better than any sunrise Cassian could have shared with Nesta back home.

It’s beautiful, and in that moment he decides he wants to see even more beautiful places than this with Nesta. Someday.

“Pretty,” she yawns, tilting her head back against his chest. Cassian feels guilty for keeping her up so late the night before, but he’s not ashamed of how she rests in his arms right now.

After the sun climbs past the lowest peak, the group of them slowly but surely come more alive. Emerie asks Az to go inside with her and do a final check before they leave, and Nesta shakes both the blanket and Cassian’s arms off herself.

“Some coffee will wake you up,” he promises her, leaving her outside in the dewy morning air with a kiss on the temple.

When Cassian returns to the balcony with two freshly brewed cups, he finds Gwyn and Nesta in deep conversation. “I never apologized for crashing your weekend,” Gwyn is saying.

“You don’t need to,” Nesta responds, watching the world wake up below her.

“Still,” Gwyn says, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I acted out of character, didn’t I?”

Nesta turns to her then, the sun haloing her face, and the look of understanding she wears makes Cassian take a step back inside.

“He does that to me,” Gwyn goes on, looking lost as ever. “I don’t know why he does that to me.”

“First love will do that to anyone,” Nesta says.

This isn’t a conversation Cassian should be overhearing, he realizes. Turning around with his coffees, he goes to find Emerie and Azriel instead.

In the living area, Emerie realizes at the last minute that she’s missing her phone charger. By the time she finds it, Nesta and Gwyn have rejoined the group.

Cassian hands Nesta her still-warm coffee with a warmer smile. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Hell yes, baby.” She slings an arm around his waist.

They barely make it to the resort lobby before Azriel and Gwyn start arguing over which route to take home.

“Why would you add an extra hour to your trip for no reason?” Azriel is saying.

“It’s none of your business!” Gwyn retorts.

“She’s scared of highways,” Emerie inserts.

While they bicker on the way to check out, Cassian finds Nesta’s hand and runs a finger down her palm. “Hey, Nes?”

“Hm?” She looks up at him.

He curls his fingers around hers. “Thank you for doing this.”

***

a/n: i cant keep posting chapters right before i sit down to cry in front of kdramas

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[juletheghoul]

Domum (Part 2)

I am dedicating this to you @221bshrlocked, I really hope you enjoy this second instalment of Vamp Boyfriend Max and please know that whenever I return to this world, I'm thinking of you.

There will be a part three.

Max Phillips x F!Reader

Pairing: Max x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.5K

Warnings: **TRIGGER WARNING** Max is a vampire so there will be blood talk, some of it sexual in nature, implied violence (nothing super graphic), language, Smut 18+, PIV sex (wrap it up), slight dirty talk, Oral-female receiving, supernatural themes, descriptions of gore

Reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist Part 1

---------

“And just when did you forsake me hm?” You stared at Ambrose, curled up and purring loudly against Max's chest on your bed. He seemed to choose Max over you half the time and you couldn’t help but be a little jealous. He stared at you with his eyes half closed, blinking slowly and you sighed at the image of your two favourite boys in your bed.

“Fine, let Max feed you then.” You were only half kidding.

“Jealousy doesn’t become you, my love.” His eyes were closed but he smiled, imagining the look on your face.

“You shush, you’re only smug because he favours you.” He laughed at your tone and made a show of kissing Ambrose on his little face and you rolled your eyes. He set him down onto the floor - against Ambrose's wishes- and pulled you into bed. “I have to go to the market-” he cut you off with a kiss. It was so hard to push him away when he kissed you like that. When his hands held your face so tenderly.

“I would like for you to stay, stay in bed with me.” he kissed your neck and you felt the ghost of his fangs caressing your pulse point. Always letting you give consent before piercing your skin. You shivered slightly but you couldn’t give in. Giving in always meant you weren’t getting anything done. It took a great deal of self control to slip out of his grip and you quickly pulled away, leaving him in order to gather the clothing you had mended.

“If I let you carry on I'll waste the day.” you scolded him without any real anger.

“Waste? You call what we do a waste?” he laid on his back, arm over his eyes in mock distress. You could see the little smile at the corner of his mouth.

“You know full well what I meant - I need to bring these things to the market or Mrs. Johnson will have my head. I will be back soon, and then we can do whatever you want.” He perked up at the last bit, like you knew he would.

“Anything…?” He had pure mischief in his eyes and you blushed slightly at the implication.

“Yes - within reason I don’t think I need to clarify.” You approached the bed and he hastily got up to sit at the edge, making space for you between his legs. You stood and stared down at him - he looked up at you like you were the very air he breathed and you wondered for a brief moment how you could be so lucky.

“I’ll be waiting for you my love, like always.” he spoke with pure devotion as he hugged you around the middle. You ran your fingers lovingly through his hair- pulling it back lightly to kiss him on the mouth.

“You better.” You smiled at him, then made your way out.

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

You made it to the market quickly and found Mrs Johnson stomping her foot impatiently and you braced yourself for an onslaught but she cheered up when she caught sight of you. She was one of the nicer villagers and you had a good relationship with her.

“There you are, girl - I was beginning to worry. Let me see.” She took the garments you had carefully folded up out of your arms and inspected your work. A frown of concentration on her face as she inspected a big tear you had mended. “Perfect - as I knew it would be. Thank you sweetling, here - for your trouble.” she handed you a small purse of coins and you took it thankfully.

“My thanks - I am always available for work.” You both said your goodbyes and you stopped to stock up on more thread. You needed new needles as well and you were perusing for more materials when you heard someone calling you. It was the young girl you’d helped almost a year ago, you had learned her name was Sarah and since then she had taken a shine to you. Treating you like an older sister and you regarded her in much the same manner. The little sister you never had.

“What is all the commotion?” You raised your eyebrows at her, she was breathless with excitement.

“I knew you hadn’t heard! There are new people in the village! They came in last night!” The smile on her face was half wild with excitement, times like this you realized how young she was and it always endeared her to you.

“Okay Sarah, take a deep breath and tell me.” You half laughed as you paid for your things and walked through town with her. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet as she grabbed your arm excitedly, telling you about the band of thespians, entertainers traveling the country; putting on shows and plays. “Singers and bards travel through here from time to time-“ she cut you off.

“Yes but never this many! Seems to be a large company - they’ll finally put that playhouse to use. Isn’t it exciting?” She smiled brightly at you but you had a bad feeling. It wasn’t the same as when Max came into town, this was stronger and it left a bad taste in your mouth. “Look! That’s them!” She whispered excitedly into your ear.

There was a group of men making their way into the big tavern in town and it felt like someone had dumped ice water down the back of your dress. There was something wrong.

Max was there in an instant, Sarah didn’t notice him until he spoke.

“Good morning Sarah.” He spoke with a neutral tone but you knew that he was anything but relaxed. He usually stayed inside during the day and his body language gave him away, to you at least.

“Hello Max! Did you hear?” You rolled your eyes, knowing she would explain the whole thing over again. He had a smile on his face as she spoke but it wasn’t filled with the warmth you had become accustomed to.

This was a mask.

“Newcomers, that’s interesting.” You could see him scanning the outside of the tavern with a critical eye. He sensed whatever you had sensed, and he sensed it all the way from the cottage.

When Sarah left he spoke in hushed tones, you had never seen him like this.

“There is something here. Something hungry.” To everyone who passed by you were a courting couple taking a stroll through the village square but he was unsettled.

“I felt it too, made my hair stand on end.” You pressed yourself up against him, there was a sudden chill in the air and you weren’t exactly sure whether it was his words or the temperature.

“I don’t like this, it seems familiar but I can’t quite place it. I need to find out what it is and either destroy it or get it out of town. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.” You smiled to yourself, remembering his attitude towards the town when he first arrived. Things had changed for you since then, for the most part anyway.

There were still villagers who thought you were the devil incarnate but most of them had embraced you. Sarah had advocated for you and with her being the daughter of prominent members of your community, others had followed. You had a steady stream of customers who came to you as a seamstress, and an even bigger one for your other talents.

The townspeople were wary of Max, everyone except Sarah - she treated him as an extension of you; and she loved you.

He had embraced the villagers, promising you that he would protect this place. That he would protect anything you loved. You both spoke about it as you made your way home and you decided that you would go into town that night to investigate. Go to the tavern and get a drink to see if either of you could find out just what exactly had blown into town.

-

The tavern was unusually full, it seemed everyone wanted to be out amongst the newcomers. You smiled at Jasper, the old barkeep, you had helped his wife with pain in her legs a few months ago. He always had a smile for you now.

“I will find us a table, Jasper favours you.” Max whispered in your ear and you laughed. You asked the grizzled old man for a glass of wine and some cider, he didn’t let you pay.

The two of you sat in a dark little corner of the tavern, keeping an eye on everyone and chatting idly, Max drinking his wine and you nursing your cider. The two of you waited a couple of hours but it was for naught. Nothing happened - although it was pleasant to be out with him, neither of you sensed anything dangerous. Chalking it up to a loss, you made your way home.

The night was pleasant and you walked leisurely through the woods towards the cottage, the two of you arm in arm - enjoying the clear night sky. You were looking at the moon, seeing it’s position - full moon in a few days you thought to yourself when Max pulled you off the path suddenly. You shrieked in surprise but you quickly recovered when he pushed you up against a large tree. You weren't too far off the path, someone walking by would have to know you were there in order to see you.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” You spoke in mock outrage, he laughed into your skin. He had you caged against the trunk; his face was buried in your neck and he was kissing every inch he could reach.

“I think you know, I believe you told me we could do whatever I wanted this morning.” He lifted your leg, hoisting it high on his hip as he ground into you. You let out a sigh at the feel of him, hard enough to feel through his trousers at your core. The bark of the tree was scratching at the back of your neck, the little bit of pain adding to the pleasure.

“I think I want to hear you say it.” Your voice was breathy, your fingers running through his hair, you guided his face towards yours, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted his tongue in your mouth and his hands on your body. You wanted him closer, always closer. He smiled into the kiss.

“I want to fuck you against this tree my love. I want to feed from you while you cum, I want to taste your pleasure, I want to love you. Will you let me love you?” He watched your mouth as he spoke, his words exciting you so much you ached. So much that you moaned and felt your sex dripping for him. Your heart was pounding, even your blood wanted him.

“Yes, always…” You breathed it out but he swallowed your words. He reached between you to pull your skirts up past your hips, he became impatient with all the fabric and when he reached your undergarments he ripped them roughly. The act excited you, causing another wave of slick to drip out of you and onto your thigh. He knelt in front of, looking up like he was in prayer.

He lifted your leg and draped it over his shoulder and he licked at your core hungrily. You felt his urgency, he sucked the bundle of nerves into his mouth with a passion that had you frantically clutching at his hair, it had you grinding into his mouth and it had you almost screaming. Your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave and he drank it down, refusing to pull away until you pushed him. He started undoing his trousers, pulling himself out as he stood.

His eyes were black with lust, as he roughly lifted you against the tree- wrapping both your legs around his hips; lifting you as if you weighed nothing.

“Undo your blouse for me sweet girl, I’m going to bite you where you like it.” he held you against the tree as you hastily undid your corset enough to pull your blouse down. You held tightly onto him as he reached down to guide himself into your wet heat. Both of you groaned when he was fully seated inside you.

It felt better every time. It was bliss, it was ecstasy.

You moaned as he drove into you, the scratching of the tree behind you sharpening the pleasure of his thrusts. You saw his fangs elongate and felt him getting frantic. He wouldn’t last long. You pushed his head down to your breast and he bit it rougher than usual, you could hear the sound of your joining and it was filthy, it was obscene out in the open like this but you didn’t care. The pleasure building with his bite and your blood in his mouth.

He licked your wound closed and moved to your other breast - you saw the brief anguished look of pleasure on his face as he bit your nipple. It hit you again. It was so intense you seized up almost painfully, screaming at the intensity of it. Your cunt clenched around him and he came with a growl.

He set you down, his grip softening, he was gentle again and he licked your wound closed. This was the roughest he’d ever been with you and you enjoyed it far more than you would have ever thought.

He was pulling your shirt back up and straightening your skirts as you caught your breath, he had a little frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?” You touched his face, bringing his attention to you.

“I’m afraid I got carried away, I’m sorry if I was too rough with you.” He looked chastened, he hissed when he saw the scratches on your shoulders and neck from the tree. You laughed lightly but he didn’t join in.

“Max, I thoroughly enjoyed that. I will heal. I can draw myself a special bath and I will be better in a few hours. Please, put it out of your mind my love.” You hugged him to you and he relented.

-

He was quiet as you made your way home and although he had dropped the subject, you knew he felt guilty. You appreciated the sentiment but you weren’t made of glass.

Once you got home, you had him fill the big kettle as you gathered a few things.

When he returned you had him pull the big tub into the middle of the room, he did so without comment. Once the water was hot enough, he helped you fill the tub and you put a few things into the water; dried herbs and flowers that would help relax you. He watched as you moved about, picking a little bit of this and a pinch of that.

The steam was lovely and it smelled like lavender and wildflowers. You stripped off your clothes and ordered him to do the same but he didn’t right away, you got into the tub and raised your eyebrows at him. He smiled and stripped, joining you in the warm water.

“Here, rub a little of this wherever the skin is irritated.” You handed him a little jar full of a thick oily paste. He obeyed and you felt his big warm hands massaging it into your skin. He was thorough and quiet as he did what you asked, the two of you enjoying the intimacy and the warmth.

He kissed your shoulder when he was done and you laid on his chest between his legs. He washed you gently as you relished his sturdy warmth behind you.

“Max, can I ask you something?” The question popped into your mind and you had to get it out.

“Yes my love?” He was washing your hair, massaging your scalp carefully as you relaxed.

“You told me once that you’ve only ever turned one person, what happened to them?” You asked it casually, you were curious and he never spoke about his past. You felt him tense for a moment before he continued with his actions.

“Do you really wish to know?” His voice sounded a little hesitant, you wanted to know, but only if he wanted to tell you.

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, I was merely curious.” You meant it, whatever happened before either of you met- it didn’t matter. Not now that you had each other.

He carefully poured water on you, washing the soap out of your hair in silence, taking the utmost care to not get any of it in your eyes. You thought the conversation was done but he eventually spoke.

“I’ll tell you one day, not today - allow me to tell you in my own time.” He pressed his face into your neck, kissing your ear and shoulder, his actions soothing the hurt he imagined his response was causing. He was entitled to his silence. You turned to face him, looking up from where your face was pressed against his chest.

“You don’t have to explain, if it hurts too much or if it’s something you don’t like discussing. It’s okay for you to keep things to yourself.” You smiled at him, letting him know there was no double meaning, you meant every word. He pulled you up to kiss you and you felt his devotion to you, felt him saying what you meant to him without words.

You both sat in the bath quietly for a long time.

---

A couple of days went by and nothing, no hide nor hair of whatever the two of you had sensed. You were beginning to think that maybe you’d gotten lucky, something passing by near enough for the both of you to pick up on it but not actually staying.

You should be so lucky.

There had been talk in the market of a beast, a monster ripping through the Robertson farm just outside town. Killing a few of his sheep and almost all of his chickens. The carnage was said to be disturbing and the bad taste returned with a vengeance, rocks settling in your stomach. This is not good.

Once you got back home and explained what happened to Max he made it a point to go to the Robertson farm to see if he could get a sense of what it could be. It wasn’t long before he was back - frowning deeply.

“I cannot get a feel for it, it’s not another of my kind that’s for sure. This feels more primal, more violent. I need to get closer.” You could see his frustration, it was bothering him that he couldn’t fix it.

--

Later on that night, Max got his wish.

You were laying in bed, curled up in each other when something flickered across Max's face. He blurred out of bed with how fast he moved, stopping to hastily put his trousers on. You felt it before you could ask him what was wrong, Ambrose shot out of bed and bounded for the door. He was hissing loudly, his hackles raised higher than you’d ever seen.

“Stay there.” His voice was iron, no room for argument. He stalked over to the door and listened, you heard it all the way from the bed; something massive was outside your cottage. It pressed against the door lightly and you could hear the gouging of the wood, whatever it was - it had claws.

Your heart was in your throat as Ambrose hissed and snarled, you quietly got up to wrap your blanket around you. Max silently moved to your kitchen to look out the window. Ambrose stopped hissing and ran towards your bed.

“It’s gone.” He didn’t move from the window and you tentatively approached him, needing his warmth to reassure you. He instantly rubbed at your arms to calm you. “You’re safe my love, nothing will happen to you. Good news is, I think I figured out what we’re dealing with. It’s a werewolf.”

You knew there had to be other creatures in this world, you yourself were a witch and you were committed to a vampire but you were at a loss for words. You would have laughed, had he not had that look on his face.

“It came straight here, it must sense us in it’s altered state.” He was pacing the room, thinking hard as you sat silent at the table. Shivering even though you had the blanket wrapped around you. You were trying to think about everything you knew about werewolves, you knew there must be something about them in your mothers notes, where were they again? You got up and put on a shift before digging through the big trunk tucked into the corner of the room.

He came over when you yelled in triumph, pulling out your mothers big leatherbound notebook.

He was silently watching you as you flipped through the pages, looking for any insight and then you saw it - she had a whole page on them. Some of the points you already knew, that you needed pure silver to ward them off. They were vicious and their bite was a curse. When they were in their animal state, they were purely primal. They would tear apart their own mothers without a second thought. Aversion to silver & iron, wolfsbane - would make sense as to why it only gauged at the wood of your door. You had fortified your protection once more after Max had come in, leaving out anything that would stop him and him alone.

“Tonight was the last night of the full moon, we have a month to prepare. We have to find out who it is, and destroy them. They cannot be cured, I hope no one gets hurt tonight.” You spoke to him as you put the book on the table. He listened intently and the both of you came up with a plan to go into the market and get as close as you could to the newcomers.

“Hopefully they'll leave before the next full moon, we should be so lucky.” He spoke as he blew out the candles you’d lit, the both of you getting back into bed. You whispered your plans to each other, vowing to warn Sarah. You thought of little trinkets you could make, talismans of protection to the people closest to you. You hoped with everything in you that you wouldn’t wake up to bad news.

---

No such luck.

The two of you decided to head into town together the next day, and there were whispers of a great beast everywhere you went. Several people had seen a huge mass stalking around the woods, luckily no one had been hurt. You did notice a few of the more unfriendly villagers giving you hard glares and scowls as you made your way through, you felt Maxs grip tighten slightly at the open show of hostility.

“We’re trying to protect them.” he spoke as you tried to calm him, putting your hand on his chest. He took it and held it there as you walked through. You caught sight of Sarah and she rushed over to you.

“I wanted to warn you- a couple of townsfolk were saying that this has something to do with you. I said that there was absolutely no way - that you’re a good person but I didn’t like how they spoke.” She was visibly upset, imagining her defending you pulled at your heartstrings.

“Oh sweetling, thank you - we’ll be okay, they’re just scared.” You hugged her tightly, trying your best to reassure her. “I’ve made you something, I brought it with me in case I saw you, put this on and don’t take it off. I’ve made one for each of your parents - this should protect you. Please make sure you don’t go out after dark. Do you understand what I’m telling you?” You spoke to her as you handed her the talismans you made. She smiled shyly and put on the necklace.

“I won’t take it off, please - be careful. Both of you.” She hugged you tightly and left quickly.

----

For the next couple of weeks both you and Max made it a point to get close to the newcomers. Thinking that maybe if you got close enough you would be able to sense it but it was for naught. They kept fastidiously to themselves, the only time you saw them was when they performed. Even then - Max couldn’t get a sense of who the danger was. You had learned from your mother’s book that it would be difficult, that the days before and after a full moon - this person could appear to be perfectly human.

——

The full moon was coming in just a few days and the tension between you and a few townspeople was palpable. Even before Sarah and other people had embraced you, things were never this bad.

You studied the book constantly, using your mothers knowledge to create a weapon that would be able to kill the beast. It would have been better to cure it but it was for naught, there was none to be found. The biggest fear would be that someone else would get bitten, spreading the curse to someone else.

Well, not the biggest fear - the biggest fear would be that someone would get killed.

——

“What do you propose we do? This is the best course of action. You know that.” He was right, as angry and upset as you were, you had to admit he was right.

“I don’t like it Max. I should be out there with you.” Your voice was soft, you were trying to argue but he looked so worried.

“I know. I cannot focus if there’s a chance you might get hurt. If something were to happen to you, I would never forgive myself- you know it makes sense- I can cover more ground without you.” He walked over to you, untangling your arms to wrap them around his neck.

He had a way of making you crack, of burrowing under your skin; into your heart. You couldn’t help but press your ear to his chest.

“I have to know you’re safe, if we both get hurt then we’re useless.” He pressed his lips to your temple.

“Very well, please be careful.” You held him tightly, as tight as you could and he let you.

---

It felt horrible to sit around and worry.

You made tea, you flipped through the book absentmindedly, it was almost a compulsion. Ambrose could sense your anxiety and he plopped down on your lap, purring loudly against your skin.

Max insisted on patrolling every night of the full moon. He was determined to destroy the beast and have your lives return to normal and you couldn’t blame him, but you couldn’t sleep until he walked through your door safe and sound. When he eventually did you would nearly tackle him to the ground.

The relief wasn’t to last though.

He burst through your door on the last night of the full moon. He was covered in blood and he held a body in his arms.

Your heart seized up, Sarah was limp in his arms. You were frantic, you could see her throat had been ripped open and you held the scream in your throat. He was speaking to you as he laid her down on the table.

“My love, I need you to focus. Is there anything in your book on how to save her?” You took a deep breath as he spoke, opening the book to the familiar pages with trembling hands.

There’s so much blood

“There’s no way to undo the curse Max, if she doesn’t die - she’ll be one of them.” The tears were flowing now, she was so young, so full of life. You walked over to her, brushing the hair out of her face. Her skin was like ivory and far too cold. Her breaths were shallow and the blood was flowing slowly. Her heart was pumping her life away.

“Can you save her?” You knew he didn’t like talking about it, but it might be the only chance she had. His eyes were on you and you could see the pain in them; inner turmoil bubbling up.

“My love, it would not be her choice and she might hate me for it. Hate you for making it for her.” His words were knives to your already broken heart.

“Please Max, I cannot lose her.” You were sobbing then, voice paper thin and up to your elbows in her blood. Her ragged breaths must have been an agony. She was bleeding into her lungs.

“Are you prepared to deal with her scorn?” His voice was cloud-soft, he didn’t want to lose her either.

“Yes.” You spoke to him but you kept your eyes on her. “Whatever it takes to save her, please.”

He changed her.

——-

You waited for her to change with baited breath. It took much longer than anticipated and you almost chewed your nails to the bone. Max fared no better, he paced the cottage while the transformation occurred and you could feel his fear. Whatever had happened in his past weighed heavy on his mind while you waited. You asked him what happened to distract him.

Max had destroyed the creature, it was one of the newcomers - he’d been taken with Sarah and they had stepped out together when he changed and in her fear; her talisman had been lost.

When you saw her skin stitching itself back together you breathed a sigh of relief, your body was a tense knot and you felt your muscles loosen slightly as her breathing regulated, as her body repaired itself.

“She will be thirsty when she wakes.” He whispered, sensing her starting to come to.

When she woke she was disoriented and Max stood between the two of you with his arms up, his body a wall between Sarah and you. He held her firmly in his grasp and spoke in clear sentences.

“Sarah sweetling, can you hear me?” He was staring into her wild eyes, for a moment it was as if she didn’t recognize either of you but a few seconds later you saw her soften, saw her take you both in.

“Max? What happened? What happened to me?” She was looking at her hands, her eyes darted around rapidly and you could see the fear.

“Sarah - focus on my voice. I need you to listen.” He came closer to her, very slowly, approaching her like one would a wild animal. He explained what had happened to her and what he’d done. What he was, what she now was as well. She looked at you with fear in her eyes and Max almost broke. This was what he’d been afraid of.

“Am I going to be okay?” She was terrified and you wanted to hug her but Max wouldn’t let you.

“You’re going to be fine - come, I will help you and once you're fed I will bring you back here and we will talk.” He turned to kiss you quickly, his unconscious need to feel you close was as much to reassure him as it was to reassure you. “Draw a bath for her my love, she will want to get clean when we get back.” With that they both left.

----

It took days for her to adjust, Max walking her through the change. His fear that she would hate you both never left him and you could hear the silent apologies in the way he treated her. The way he guided her through everything like a father would a favoured child.

At first she was afraid, terrified of herself and her new abilities but it didn’t last. She took to it well. Her young age, which he thought would be a hindrance - actually worked in her favour.

She had a long way to go until she had the same level of control as Max, but both of you would be there to help her.

To be continued...

---

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[starlessea]

Here Comes the Sun: I. Yellow Submarine (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 4632

Chapter Warnings: Language, Non-descriptive violence

The tent was sunshine yellow. Stood out like a sore thumb, that's for sure. Against a backdrop of auburn tree-trunks and dingy mud, or even those full green leaves that stretched their way outwards on the branches like fingers reaching for the midday sun, the tent sat blissfully ignorant to its own impracticality. 

The others had opted for khaki green, or black. It wasn't until the first night you all pitched them in camp, row upon row of perfectly camoflauged tents alongside your fucking yellow submarine, that you realised that perhaps you'd made a mistake.

They'd tried to cheer you up despite your embarrassment, joking that it matched your personality, or offering reassurance that it brightened up the place. For you, it was the first thing that made the situation seem so real. This wasn't a camping trip where you'd toast marshmallows and share ghost stories - drinking too much beer and ending the night delightfully buzzed, staring up at the yellow canvas of your one-person retreat. This was survival and you'd already made a stupid choice.

Yet, for all that you worried about other camps running into you because of your obnoxious yellow dinghy, or the number of times you'd had to pack it down and set it back up again when you relocated, you never got rid of it. One time the group had passed a store selling hiking equipment and other supplies, but you didn't so much as look in the general direction of the tents. Although you'd never admit it out loud, you loved yours. Yellow became your new favourite colour without you even noticing it; maybe because it was safe, or it felt warm. 

On those peaceful mornings in camp, where you'd wake up feeling content despite the crick in your neck or the bug bites itching your arms - courtesy of the small hole in the netting - yellow was the first thing you saw.

When you'd open your eyes and let the light stream in through the little plastic window, like a circular port-hole with a little popper flap, for a few minutes each morning you were convinced that everything would be okay. Albeit, the peace never lasted long. Soon you'd have to unzip it and face the world, washing laundry and scavenging food to cling on to any resemblance of normality. Still, at the end of a hard day, when your fingers stung raw and blistered, one of the things that kept you going was returning to that tent of yours and humming 'Yellow Submarine' until someone yelled at you to be quiet from a tent over - and the rest would laugh.

Now, the tent looked as though it had seen better days. The middle pole had a slight crook in it where you'd packed it in a hurry last time, and the whole structure seemed a bit dilapidated as a result. It looked as though it were hunched over moping, not really matching its bright exterior. The netting had almost unravelled completely, as well - the pieces of string and patchwork tape having lost their battle against a particularly stormy night. You'd give anything for those peaceful days of yellow sunshine in the camp again. You had taken it all too much for granted.

"Stupid goddamn tent!" You huffed, pulling at the zipper aggressively to try and fix the jam. It had caught in the material half-way closed again. "I will throw you in the creek, you hear me?"

Perhaps you had finally lost it. Here you were, wiggling that rusted zipper like your life depended on it, all while making empty threats to a tent. You wondered if it was heatstroke. The sun beat down on your lower back something fierce as you squatted in your battle with the door. It wasn't like you had anything worth stealing in there anyway; there were clothes, a few water bottles and minimal food at best. You doubted anyone would take a liking to the polaroids strung up on the canopy, either. Anything valuable you kept on you, in case you needed to run away. Seems like that's all you were good at doing these days.

It had been a week since the camp had collapsed. It had been out of nowhere. Your colleagues, campmates, had all been in the main communal area when it happened - a small clearing where you all ate together around a low campfire in the nights. You'd been a ways away, in your tent, reading some book you'd read a hundred times before. It wasn’t like you had much other entertainment, but you'd have brought better material if you knew the world was going to end.

You'd been an English student for four years, a teacher for a few more, and had finally gone into research. That's what brought you out here in the first place, in the middle of nowhere preparing for a seminar in Atlanta. It was your first time away from home for so long alone. Your mother called every day asking how it was going, and you'd complain about the weather - more used to the rain back home than the scorching heat that made you sticky with sweat just by stepping outside. 

Yet, nothing made you more homesick than hearing those Southern accents everywhere you went. The camp would joke about it, a small British girl out of her depth with these Georgia-hardened yanks. You remember quipping back a "yeehaw" and rolling your eyes as they chuckled. Maybe that was the reason you liked the tent so much - for the comradery. You both stood out like sore thumbs wherever you went around here.

Still, that night you'd been stuck reading a beaten copy of Wuthering Heights for the twelfth time, like some kind of torturous routine that made you go from loving to tolerating it at best. It had made you question your entire career path when you'd only thought of bringing three books along with you to survive the apocalypse. Though, you guessed you should be grateful for that many, after someone had threatened to burn them to keep the fire going on one of those first nights.

You'd been dozing off when you first heard it, book face down on your chest to mark the page. At first you thought it could be your half-awake mind playing tricks, coming out of sleep all fuzzy like you usually did. Or perhaps you’d experienced that falling sensation you had so often in your dreams nowadays. Whatever it was, something had woken you with a fright. Then you heard it again - a scream in the distance, not too loud but definitely a scream for help. Then came another one. Then another.

You recognised the voices of your campmates after what felt like minutes, but was probably only a second or two at most. You pulled your boots on quickly, grabbing the sheathed knife next to your sleeping bag and holding it with trembling hands as you unzipped the tent. It was empty as you stepped outside, and you glanced around the sleeping area before starting to run for the clearing with your heart pounding in your chest. 

You weren't sure what to expect. You couldn't really fight, having only killed a couple of the undead since this whole thing started - and only when you absolutely had to. You just weren't built for fighting; you were small, weak, and a goddamn English teacher. The most physical activity you'd had to do before all this was taking the stairs when the elevator of your apartment complex was broken.

Still, you had to try. These people had taken you in alongside their families knowing that you had no one out here to look out for you. Your colleagues had been with you every step of the way since the outbreak happened; they watched as you phoned your parents sobbing and wanting to go home, gave you your first knife and showed you how to use it, and even tried to teach you how to shoot a pistol despite how scared you were to even touch one. You were like a helpless foreign exchange student who only knew magazines as something to read for gossip in salons, and not something to load a gun with. Damn UK firearm laws had really fucked you over for the end of the world.

As you approached the clearing, staying hidden behind some trees in the back not illuminated by the small fire, you realised how hopeless it was. There were too many. It was nothing like you'd ever seen before. Even those first few days, when everyone scrambled away from the cities, clambering over one another and attacking each other for resources, they were nothing compared to this. The knife still shook as you grasped it with both trembling hands, squatting behind a bush with wide eyes like a deer in headlights. These people had saved you and were getting eaten in front of you. Yet, you couldn't do a damn thing.

Amidst the chaos you'd caught the eyes of one of your group, Vanessa, who stood at the opposite side of the clearing hiding back like you were. She looked down at the knife in your hands, before meeting your eyes once again, her's full of tears. She shook her head slowly, gesturing to the knife, then glancing back at the scene unfolding between you both with a lifeless expression. 

You dropped the knife and ran back to the tent without so much as a look backwards, legs shaking and palms clammy the whole way. Once you got there, you immediately scrambled inside, pulling the zip closed so quickly that it jammed a few times before shutting entirely. You dimmed the lantern and crawled under your sleeping bag, holding your hand to your mouth to quiet your panting breaths.

The entire night you stayed completely still where you lay, not daring to move a muscle. You had no weapon and only a thin tent stood against you and the undead. So you played dead. It felt like days before you had the courage to move in the slightest. The noise had died a while ago but you aired on the side of caution - or perhaps more so on the side of fear. You had been cowardly and hid. It was all you could do, run away and hide and let the people who saved you die.

It had been just over a week since then. The undead had passed through but you couldn't stay there after what had happened. There was no one left to stay there with. You'd searched for Vanessa but found no trace of her, living or dead. You couldn't stomach looking around the clearing too long. You told yourself it was because it was unsafe, but in reality you couldn't risk seeing a familiar face amongst corpses and bloodshed. So, you packed up your yellow submarine and got the hell out of dodge.

The first few days had been rough - the guilt, the fear, the hunger. Your stomach had growled but you had no appetite, and whatever you could manage to eat didn't stay down for too long. It was exhausting having no one to watch your back, no one to take watch whilst you slept. You had one tactic for dealing with the undead, and that was to run. You felt useless but you just didn't want to risk it. You were smart, you understood the likelihood of survival with your stature and experience. So, you always ran away.

Yet, you had no plan for anything else. You knew the geography of the nearby area, having explored it pretty well. Yet, you were still out in the open, exposed at Atlanta's backdoor, in the middle of who knows where. The whole place was just too damn big. You were sure someone's backyard could be the size of your entire town back home. It just seemed to be clearing after clearing, stream after stream. You hadn't found shelter in the entire week, having to keep pitching your tent as you went along looking for safety.

After finally getting the stubborn zipper to shut, you made your way to the stream to wash up. You felt disgusting. Your hair was pulled into a low ponytail just to keep the griminess away from your face, and your clothes had definitely seen better days. Not to mention the heat made you sweat at the slightest exertion, as the sun beat down on your pale skin and burned it if you stayed out too long.

"What I wouldn't give for a nice shower." You muttered to yourself, splashing the back of your neck with the cool creek water when you arrived. 

You were tempted to just strip out of your dirty clothes and jump in, but the thought of having to run from the undead, naked and exposed, made you second guess that decision. You laughed to yourself. The only thing more mortifying than becoming a zombie was becoming a naked zombie. You refilled a bottle of water while you were there, and quickly scouted the area before making your way back to the tent. You were thinking of having something to eat, from whatever was left of your measly protein bar collection, before going out again to look for shelter.

The walk to and from the tent was quiet. You hadn't seen any undead for a few days now, since the group of them moved on from your camp. You'd thought this place safe was before, as safe as any place could be in this new world you now lived in. The trickle of the stream flowed softly as you walked alongside it, and everything remained docile save for the cool breeze that rustled the leaves every now and then. The place seemed laughably tranquil considering what had transpired a week before.

It was too quiet for you. It left you lost in your own thoughts, and they got pretty loud most days. Curse of the gifted, your mother would call it - couldn't be selectively smart, she'd tell you, when you complained about how your mind just wouldn't shut off. You'd overthink brief meetings in the shower, or cringe at embarrassing moments repeating endlessly in your head, or think of a scene in a novel you'd read a month prior until you'd exhausted all of its meaning. It seemed more of a curse now than ever, at the end of the world. You couldn't afford to get distracted, and you had to be strong. It just seemed so difficult when you unintentionally replayed that night over and over again, like a film only you could watch.

The tinnitus was worse. In the old world, you'd have headphones on most hours of the day. Call it foolish, but your younger self didn't care for much else but blasting songs at full volume or going to concerts that left your head ringing for days. It's one of the things you missed most from before. Any type of music would do, you just wished to hear something, anything, with a melody. Nowadays, the soft running water of the creek and occasional birds chirping in the morning did little to ease the incessant high-pitched buzzing sound in your ears.

Even now you heard it, more harsh than usual. It rang out like a scraping of metal against metal, making a shiver run along your spine. It reminded you of the clanking of beer jugs in bars, or the scraping of chalk on your board - but constantly, with no reprieve. 

You stopped in your tracks. Never had your tinnitus sounded like this, or made you think of those things. No, this wasn't in your head at all. These were the sounds of the trip wire around your tent. You'd hooked some string around the perimeter, on the base of the tree trunks, and tied an assortment of things to it that would make noise if disturbed. There were metal cans, spoons, keys, anything you could find that would alert you if the undead got too close.

Despite being able to see bright yellow in your peripheral, you couldn't make out what had caused the noise. You immediately stepped away from the path, where the grass was more flattened and easier to walk on, and edged deeper into the trees where you pressed your back flush up against one. Your breathing picked up and suddenly you felt very exposed, eyes darting side to side whilst you stayed motionless with bark pressing roughly into your skin. You slowly reached for your knife, in the small sheath attached to your belt, careful not to make any sudden movements. You hoped you could just wait for the undead to pass along like usual, wherever it was.

"Don't move." You felt your stomach drop as you heard the voice speak behind you. 

Your hands froze in place, hovering above the knife, and you didn't dare turn your head around to look. Then, you heard the familiar clicking sound as a pistol was cocked and no doubt pointed towards you.

"Please don't shoot!" You half yelled, terrified. 

Your hands flew up into the air away from the knife, and you pressed your elbows firm against the tree.

"I'm unarmed. Just the knife." You blurted, eyes looking down to your belt to gesture it. You wondered if that was the right decision, showing how defenceless you were. You didn't have any resources to offer, either.

You finally turned your head to see a man and a woman standing there, the man with his gun trained on you. You instantly shivered. He was intimidating; he was tall, built, head shaved with dog tags around his neck. You wondered if he was military. The woman beside him had a gun too, lowered, but her finger still on the trigger as she eyed you carefully. The man motioned her with his head, repositioning the gun in warning.

"Andrea." He spoke with eyes still locked on you, and she nodded and began to approach. "Don't get any ideas." He warned, voice low and gravelly. 

You stayed motionless as the woman took the knife from your sheath and frisked you, before stepping back behind the man once again. The man finally lowered his gun, but didn't put it away.

"You alone?" He asked, sounding more like an order than a question. 

You nodded carefully, whilst lowering your arms from above your head. Your heart pounded so loud you could hear the blood rush in your ears, and your legs felt like they could collapse at any moment. The pair looked at you with caution, glancing around to see if you were lying. The tension could be cut with a knife. You didn't know whether to take your chances and run, or try talking with them.

"That yours?" The man gestured your tent in the distance, cocking his head in the direction. 

You nodded again, wondering what else you could do. You thought you resembled a bobblehead, rendered speechless by the two figures with guns. They definitely knew how to use them, you thought.

"I-" You started, causing them to readjust in anticipation. You took a step back hesitantly before continuing. "That's my tent." You pointed towards it again, stating the obvious. "I don't have much. Just my knife, some water and not much food." Your voice trembled despite your attempts to keep it strong and clear. "Take it if you must, but please leave me be."

The two glanced at each other, the woman raising an eyebrow before putting her gun away in the back of her jeans. The man seemed more hesitant, but soon followed suit and put his own back in its holster. 

"Not lookin' to take your stuff." He spoke after what seemed like a while. 

He threaded his thumbs through the belt loops of his trousers and looked into the distance, at nowhere in particular. You didn't let yourself relax yet. You didn't know either of them.

The man wore a black t-shirt with camouflage pants, and a pair of combat boots to match. You thought he must have some sort of training to be able to negotiate like he did. The woman, Andrea you thought you'd heard him call her, had a white button-up shirt and jeans on. Her blonde hair was tied up neatly. You realised that they both looked clean. Hell, you couldn’t remember when the last time you saw a white shirt was. You wondered if they had a camp somewhere, and if it was safe.

"We're lookin' for a little girl." The man spoke again, who you were now sure was the leader out of the two of them.

"I'm a little girl." You answered, gesturing your height in comparison to his with a small smile. 

He glared back unamused and you realised that now wasn't the time to be funny, even if it was a nervous coping mechanism. 

You cleared your throat a little before continuing."You're going to have to be more specific."

"A little girl. Eleven years old, about this high." He reached his hand to his chest. "You seen 'er?"

You swallowed thickly. There was a lost child. "No. I'm sorry." 

Andrea sighed and turned on her heels, looking away from you as she kicked the ground with her boot. 

"Is she yours?" You questioned, looking up at the man.

"One of our group." 

You nodded and looked towards the floor. You hadn't seen anybody since the fall of your camp, and you'd circled around the area more times than you could count.

"I came from that direction. Had a camp there until recently. Haven't seen any sign of her from there." You pointed vaguely, wondering how much of the area they'd searched already, or if they had any clue where she might be. 

You thought that this could be your chance. If they had a camp, a base of organisation to look for this little girl, maybe you could go back with them. You knew the area pretty well by now. Even if you didn't have anything else to offer, it could be something.

You looked the man in the eye again as you spoke. "Are you set up somewhere around here? I could help you look-"

"No." You almost jumped back as he cut you off abrasively, seeming to get angry even at the suggestion. "Got enough mouths to feed, enough people to keep safe." 

He took a step forward, closing the distance between the two of you. You took a step back in return, feeling the bark press against your back once again. 

"Heck, for all I know you and yer group could try and ambush us."

Andrea glanced up at the man, and then back at you with careful eyes. She watched the exchange but didn't offer anything to it.

"There is no group anymore. Just me." You admitted quietly, not meeting the harsh glare of the man who towered above you, too close for comfort. H

e took a step back at that, giving you more space to breathe. You saw his eyes soften slightly with understanding, but it was only for a brief second.

"Sorry, Ma'am, but I don't care. You ain't comin' with us." He looked you up and down quickly, but you still caught it. 

The way he'd seemed amused, the corner of his lip raising slightly to patronise you, made you feel a lot smaller than you already felt next to him before. He glanced over to your tent briefly, too. Suddenly, you felt very ashamed of your yellow submarine. His face said it all, and you felt very inadequate. 

"You can stay here and not cause any trouble, but I don't wanna see ya anywhere near our camp." He finished.

You shook your head quickly, stepping forward to grab his arm before he turned to leave. "I'm not a threat, I could help out-"

He immediately snatched his hand away, making you stumble backwards from the force. 

"Not anywhere near us, you hear me?" He whispered, but the words held more intent than the one's he'd barked at you earlier. You felt a cold chill run over you. "I won't ask nicely again." 

He turned away fully this time, shucking his backpack onto his shoulder and thumbing over the gun in its holster. He marched past the women still stood staring at you apologetically, not even giving a single glance back to you. 

"C'mon Andrea, let's head back."

You stalked back to your tent in silence. For once, you felt as though you didn't have a single thought floating around in that head of yours. Yet, for what your mind lacked, your body made up for. Your hands trembled, but you were unsure if in fear or anger. You'd picked your knife back up from the floor where they'd left it, and resheathed it before heading back. The midday sun had come and gone by now, starting to dip in the sky as the air around you got cooler and more bearable.

Approaching the tent wordlessly, you squatted down to unzip it. The zip caught immediately, not making it a quarter of the way open before you heard the characteristic snag. You let out a deep breath and undid the cap of the water bottle you'd filled up at the stream, taking a gulp of it before pouring the rest of it over your head. 

You looked down towards the floor where you hovered, letting the water run down your neck to your lower back, and over your hair to your forehead. It stung as it reached your eyes,  the corners already welling with tears, and you wiped them with sweaty hands that only made them sting more from the salt.

You stood up suddenly, straightening your legs and moving your wet hair out of your eyes. You took another deep breath before throwing the empty plastic bottle at a nearby tree, hearing it crunch pathetically quiet as it hit it.

"Fuck!" You growled, looking over at your tent before kicking it with your boot. 

It didn't do anything, obviously; it only made a pitiful flapping sound as your foot slid across the canvas material and made it ripple. 

"Fuck." You spat again, pulling off the shoe and throwing it at the yellow dinghy this time, only for it to get slightly absorbed by it before tumbling off. 

You stood there for a moment, chest heaving and water droplets running down the back of your neck. You squatted back down opposite the tent, looking up at it panting, your eyes squinting slightly from the low sun. Your boot lay next to it, and you looked down at your bare foot and laughed bitterly.

You had your chance and you blew it. Now, you were alone again. Suddenly, you heard a slight rustle, followed by a clank, and whipped your head up to see that your tent had bowed even further. Your boot must have made the support beam cave in more. You laughed, rubbing your temple. 

"Really?" You whispered. 

It now resembled more of a sad meringue, you thought, rather than a tent. A few more chuckles escaped your mouth before you fell backwards with a slump, sitting on the muddy ground just staring in front of you at your shambled home, and at the holes in your sock. Then you cried.

The sun set even further and cast a shade by the trees. There was a dryness in the air, but it wasn't the same stifling humidity of the day. The stream still flowed uninterrupted over the crags and rocks, and no undead rattled the string of mismatched cutlery and tincan meals. Rather, it was quiet. That is, until the ringing started again and it was not.

A/N The chapter that started it all! 

Send me a message if you want to be included in the taglist for chapters!

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3005 || part 3

3005 [part 3] || “sound good, Princess?"

[no matter what you say and what you do // when i’m alone, i’d rather be with you]

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a/n : I AM SUFFERING I HAVE MADE M I S T A K E S

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When Y/n steps into the forest clearing the next day, she finds that Hoseok’s not alone. There, seated on the large tree trunk near the cauldron where he stands, is her new acquaintance. Yoongi’s eyes flick up from the book he’s reading when he notices movement, Hoseok still having not seen her since his back is turned. Yoongi clears his throat to alert his boyfriend, but there’s a few seconds before he does so. He first takes his time holding eye contact with her, and she can see, even with a book in the way, that there’s a smirk playing on the edges of his lips. And then he’s blinking, returning his gaze to the page before him as he clears his throat.

Hoseok glances up from where he’s carefully filling vials of wolfsbane potion, glancing over his shoulder when Yoongi tilts his chin up, gesturing in Y/n’s direction with his head without ever moving his eyes from the page. Hoseok spins on his heel smoothly, grinning easily at Y/n.

“Princess! So kind of you to join us.” Even though she’s looking at Hoseok -- not really looking him in the eye, but still looking at him -- she sees Yoongi lift his head, and she wonders what he’s thinking about the nickname his own boyfriend’s given her. As if reading her mind, his opens his mouth, breathing out a laugh before he speaks.

“‘Princess’, huh? I wasn’t aware you were Cinderella -- you know, since you like pumpkins so much.” Yoongi meets her eyes again, that little smirk returning when she instinctively squints, glaring at him.

“I told you I hadn’t thought about the fact that they use the pumpkins for the food--”

“I’m just saying, I was wondering why the pieces of pumpkin in the soup the other day were so soft--”

“That’s not how that works!” Yoongi’s smirk widens, her reaction pleasing him endlessly. Hoseok only looks between them, eyes wide.

“Uh… do you two need a minute? Because I have no idea what’s going on here.” Yoongi breaks eye contact then, returning to his book.

“Your little wolf’s fond of Hagrid’s pumpkin patch.” Y/n flushes angrily, thrown both by the fact that he’d just referred to her as Hoseok’s little wolf and that he hadn’t even come close to properly explaining the situation.

“Okay, well your little boyfriend interrupted me in the midst of an existential crisis, which, frankly, is just rude.” Hoseok had been looking at Yoongi, also surprised at the name he’d given her, but he whirls around then, eyebrows hidden under his hair as he stares at her in shock. Yoongi also looks up, decidedly shutting his book and setting it down beside him before crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, so that’s what you were doing! I wasn’t sure if that was just part of your regular lunchtime routine, or…” Y/n huffs loudly, and she feels herself growing frustrated by the obvious enjoyment Yoongi’s getting out of teasing her. But Hoseok’s reaction to their conversation surprises her enough to halt any irritation she would have felt.

“Okay -- you two are acting really weird… I mean, I can’t say much about Y/n since, apparently, she hates me enough to never talk to me, but Yoongi…” He looks his boyfriend over with surprise, causing Yoongi to deflate slightly after a moment. He uncrosses his arms, setting his hands in his lap as he shrinks shyly under Hoseok’s gaze. But it’s the way Yoongi’s ears are turning pink that tips Hoseok off, and he hums knowingly.

“I see--” He turns to Y/n then, the arrogant smirk she’d come to know over the years filling his face. “You’ll have to forgive him, Princess -- my little Prince isn’t the best at making friends.” Yoongi’s blush deepens, and he digs the toe of his converse sneakers into the dirt below him stubbornly. This is not the same Yoongi that had just derived joy from teasing Y/n, and she’s very surprised to see how quickly he changed. Glancing at Hoseok, she finds that he’s got his eyes on Yoongi, fondness dancing in his gaze as he smirks at his boyfriend. She decides then that their dynamic confuses her, but then she remembers what Hoseok had said.

“I don’t hate you…” Hoseok turns, eyes genuinely surprised that she hadn’t let the comment pass. Y/n only makes brief eye contact before looking away, never having been able to properly meet Jung Hoseok’s intense gaze for very long. “I don’t hate you.” She’d wanted to explain why she’s so shy around him -- that he intimidates her, probably without meaning to -- but she’d only repeated herself, unable to find any other words. She hears Hoseok snicker, and when she looks up, he’s got his back to her again, having returned to his potion.

“Well, that’s certainly nice to know. Maybe I should only give you one vial at a time -- then you’ll have to keep finding me every day, and I can finally get to know you.” There’s a pause, one where Y/n isn’t sure how to respond, but it ends when Hoseok glances over his shoulder at her with a toothy grin.

“I’m just fucking with you. I wouldn’t hold out on you like that.” He turns, holding a small container, one that she’s very familiar with. She steps further into the clearing, approaching the pair, head bent as she pretends to watch where she’s walking on the uneven ground -- a habit formed over the years so she doesn’t have to look Hoseok in the eye.

She stops when the little wooden box comes into view, and he hands it to her. But when she moves to pull away, he doesn’t let go, holding her there with the grip of his hand on the box of her vials. She looks up in surprise then, finally meeting his eyes without even thinking about it. She finds that Hoseok’s smirking, as usual, but it widens when she looks at him.

“There she is.” It’s whispered, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of her for a second while he says it, causing her breath to catch in her throat from the sheer effect of his overwhelming presence. She feels trapped by him, prey being mocked by that smirk.

Her eyes flick over to Yoongi, expecting to see some kind of reaction at her proximity to his boyfriend -- annoyance or irritation maybe -- but she finds that he’s only regarding Hoseok with eyes filled with intrigue. A thought seems to have crossed his mind when Hoseok had acted, because Yoongi’s examining his boyfriend with a raised eyebrow, like he knows something she doesn’t. And when he finally glances at her, it seems the shy Yoongi that Hoseok had dragged out has disappeared again, leaving a new Yoongi who only looks her over with surprised interest.

She doesn’t even realize Hoseok’s released her vials, too stunned by the suddenness of the moment. When she looks down and sees that she’s the only one holding the box, she’s still not processing it, so she stays close to Hoseok -- much closer than she’d ever been before in the 4 years she’d known him. He’s warm, she notes -- his body heat is as overwhelming as his gaze, passing over her in waves as a reminder that he’s there while she stares down at the box, eyes wide.

She also notes that, while Jungkook is much the same, warmer than most due simply to an internal adjustment made to his body after becoming an animagus so young, this is not the same. Where she’d always found her brother obnoxiously warm and only tolerable on the coldest of nights, Hoseok’s warmth is surprisingly pleasant -- nothing more than a reminder that he’s there, living and breathing beside her. It’s oddly comforting to know that the cold, offputting boy she’d come to know is warm in some ways.

The moment comes crashing to an end with the sound of footsteps in the distance, realization hitting Y/n like a truck when she thinks of what this situation could seem like to someone else. Stumbling backwards until she’s about as far away from Hoseok as she’d been from the start, she barely even hears footsteps falling into line beside her, her heart still pounding in her ears.

“Oh, hey!” Glancing up at the sudden voice, her heart flies into her throat when she realizes it’s Remus that’s right beside her.

Am I just gonna have a heart attack here? This is how I die, is that it?

She can’t even manage to smile at Remus, too flustered by the entire situation. She only glances over at James and Sirius, who have come along to keep Remus company. They wave, smiling knowingly at the blush on her face -- on the tree trunk not far away, Yoongi smirks, knowing they aren’t aware of the whole truth of Y/n’s current state.

“Hey, Hoseok! Sorry again for having to cancel on you last night -- we, uh--” Remus hasn’t noticed Y/n’s frazzled existence, addressing Hoseok like nothing’s off about the situation. He points between himself and his friends, looking sheepish. “We got evening detention, so…”

Y/n chances a look at Hoseok then, seeing that he seems to have forgotten the entire moment with her, smiling politely at the Marauders while turning to grab Remus’ doses.

“Don’t worry about it, man. This one told me that his friend Jungkook had gotten into trouble, so I figured you might be in the same boat.” Hoseok nods over to Yoongi when he says ‘this one’, and the boys seem to only notice then that Yoongi’s there.

“Yoongi! It’s good to see you, man -- I feel like whenever we find Jungkook during lunch, you’re missing from the group.” James approaches the seated boy, clapping him on the back good-naturedly. Yoongi only nods, an easy smile coming to his features. He looks mildly uncomfortable, but it’s clear he and the Gryffindors are familiar with one another, and Y/n wonders briefly what Yoongi’s like as he gets to know someone.

She doesn’t even see that he’s meeting her eyes curiously until he responds, his voice bringing her back to reality. She watches as he doesn’t look away, eyes locked on hers as he speaks, that infuriating smirk making another appearance.

“Yeah, sorry about that -- I’m usually busy during lunch.” Y/n’s mind flashes to when she’d accused Yoongi of interrupting her existential crisis during lunch, not ten minutes prior. She flushes, that annoying pounding of her heart growing when she sees that the comment is lost on James, his words meant strictly for her. Remus shifts next to her, and when she glances up, she sees that he’d noticed the moment, looking between her and Yoongi with curiosity. He clears his throat, shooting her a quick grin as he addresses Hoseok again.

“Well, I’m glad I ran into this one at breakfast today and heard you guys were meeting now -- I’d hate to take more time out of your schedule.” Remus reaches out, brushing his fingers along the inside of her wrist when he calls her ‘this one’, referencing Hoseok’s previous comment about Yoongi jokingly. Y/n’s eyes widen as she glances down at her wrist, watching as Remus’ fingers slide off of her skin before returning to his side, where he lets his arm hang.

She glances away quickly, trying not to make a big deal of the gesture, and she ends up catching Hoseok’s expression as her eyes pass over him. Remus had meant the comment innocently, of course, but the look in Hoseok’s eyes -- cold, hardened eyes that gaze emotionlessly at the spot where she and Remus had just made contact before flicking up to meet Remus’ eyes -- tells her that maybe he doesn’t like that she’s being referred to in the same way Hoseok had referred to Yoongi.

She’s not sure why -- a personal association to the words, an inside joke between the boyfriends, perhaps -- but Hoseok’s teeth are clenched, his jaw locking and unlocking as he smiles in response, and it sets her skin on fire. He’s not even looking at her, gaze trained evenly on Remus, but she feels the heat of his glare, very different from the heat she’d felt radiating off of him earlier.

“It’s no problem -- I’d have been happy to reschedule.” The words are understanding, but there’s an edge to them, the tone in his voice razor sharp. Y/n glances up at Remus and finds that he’s already looking down at her, his eyebrows raised as he looks at her knowingly.

“I get the Look all the time… just me though…”

Y/n blinks, confused as she remembers what he’d said to her yesterday. She looks to Hoseok, but when he flicks his eyes over to her, his gaze softens, and he looks away and scratches at his neck awkwardly. Behind him, Yoongi is looking at the back of his boyfriend’s head, eyes curious as he glances between Hoseok and Remus. His expression is fairly even, but Y/n can see that he’s been making silent observations when he finally smiles to himself and lowers his gaze to his lap, twiddling his thumbs as he thinks.

Hoseok moves to hand the box of vials to Remus after a moment, still slightly awkward from his obvious display of annoyance as he approaches them. When he passes the doses to Remus, he takes a moment to glance at Y/n, eventually reaching over to tap a single finger on the top of her own container.

“Don’t let me find out you aren’t taking these with food like last year -- sound good, Princess?” Y/n inhales sharply, only having heard the name when they’re relatively alone. Remus’ jaw drops, accompanied by James choking on his own spit and Sirius making some kind of strangled noise behind his hand. She looks past Hoseok to see Yoongi smiling widely, eyes dancing with amusement.

Nodding quickly, Y/n lowers her gaze and turns, pushing past Remus as she heads for the path back to the castle. Remus follows, stunned, and James hops off of his seat, not even bothering to wave at Yoongi as he and Sirius take off after Y/n, their teasing voices ringing out through the forest as they go.

Hoseok watches them leave, Yoongi only watching Hoseok. Finally, the boy on the tree trunk hums, eyes trained on the side of his boyfriend’s face as he speaks.

“So… She’s interesting.” Hoseok doesn’t take his eyes off of Y/n’s back, shrinking in the distance as she and the Marauders walk back to the castle. He swallows hard, sighing softly before responding.

“She’s certainly something.”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #jung hoseok #min yoongi #hoseok x reader #yoongi x reader #bts poly au

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 03

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 9.2k [3/6]

notes: this will likely be my last update of this fic until the new year, because i have two (2!!!) other fics that i’m planning to post in december, including another jungoo one, so! please look forward to those, and enjoy this chapter in the meantime! 

warnings: jk’s massive noona kink: a recurring yet warranted warning, me absolutely fucking up everything about korea’s geography probably, semi-public? fingering???, jungkook....... shall we say, rocks the boat, there is one (1) dick pic but no one’s complaining

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

Monday - 11:27am

Kim Taehyung added you to the group: the great escape!!!!!! 🏝🚗💨

[11:27am] Taehyung: let’s gooooooooooo!!

[11:27am] Jisoo: ???

[11:28am] Lisa: go where?

[11:28am] Taehyung: parks lake house this weekend! we’re going on vacation!

[11:28am] You: hold up tae, we haven’t even asked our parents if we can have the house yet

[11:29am] Chimchim: oh yeah lmao

[11:29am] Chimchim: u wanna go ask noona??

[11:29am] You: nope

[11:30am] Chimchim: ugh, fine

[11:30am] Chimchim: u big baby

[11: 31am] You: 🙄

[11: 37am] Chimchim: they said yes!

[11:38am] Taehyung: LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

[11:38am] Minho: sweet 👍

[11:38am] Taemin: tight

[11:39am] Jungkook: dope

[11:40AM] Jisoo: you’re all idiots 🙄

Tuesday - 2:34pm

[2:34pm] Chimchim: i’ve secured the van

[2:34pm] Chimchim: for the trip i mean

[2:35pm] Taehyung: noice

[2:35pm] You: 10 people aren’t gonna fit in mom’s van, chim

[2:37pm] Jungkook: i can drive too

[2:37pm] Chimchim: 👍👍

[2:37pm] Chimchim: see? nothing to worry about

[2:38pm] Jungkook: yeah noona, nothing to worry about. nothing at all.

Wednesday - 9:49pm

[9:49pm] Taehyung: oh my god we need FOOD

[9:49pm] Lisa: you’re just realizing that now?

[9:50pm] Taehyung: shut up

[9:50pm] Taehyung: i have a cooler

[9:51pm] Lisa: and ice?

[9:51pm] Taehyung: ………… i will buy some ice

[9:52pm] You: there’s a grocery store on the way up that we always used to go to, we can stock up there

[9:52pm] Taehyung: 👍

[9:54pm] You: you also better remember to bring your own towels. and more than one change of clothing

[9:54pm] Taehyung: 👍👍

[9:55pm] Chimchim: yes, mom

///

The day of the trip finds you standing in the foyer, rifling through your purse to make sure you have all the essentials. Off in the distance, you can hear Jimin sprinting around frantically, catching the briefest glimpse of his ruffled blond hair before he disappears again into the depths of the house.

“Chim, I swear to god. Why didn’t you pack earlier?”

“I did!” your brother whines, poking his head out from the living room where his suitcase is lying wide open, belongings scattered in every direction. “It’s just that—oh, fuck. Do you have my toothbrush?”

“Why would I have your toothbrush?” you deadpan.

He ignores you, and not two seconds later, he lets out an excited shout. “Never mind! I found it!”

You sigh and rub your temples. The trip hasn’t even begun, yet you’re already feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. “I’m going outside,” you call to your brother, who grunts in acknowledgement. Opening up the front door, you drag your suitcase out onto the sun-drenched porch, relishing the welcome breeze that caresses your cheeks and whispers through your hair.

The rare moment of peace is broken almost immediately by the rumble of a starting engine—the sound shuddery and wavering before it finally evens out into a steady, mechanical purr. It’s coming from nearby, and your gaze immediately travels to the neighboring driveway where a beat-up sedan sits, torn between exasperation and amusement when you see Jungkook waving at you from the driver’s seat.

“I’m coming to pick you up!” he calls through the open window, and you hold back your laughter as he reverses out of his driveway, rolls ten feet down the street, and pulls into yours.

“Was that really necessary?” you ask once he’s parked.

“Of course it was,” he replies, hopping out to grab your suitcase. You watch as he pops the trunk and loads it inside, and blanch when you realize what that means.

“Wait a second. Am I riding with you?”

Some emotion flashes across his face, but he wipes it away before you can identify it. “Would that be so terrible?”

It’s been one week since Taehyung’s party, and Jisoo’s warning still rings loud and clear in your brain. Still, you feign nonchalance and tamp down the uptick in your heart rate, offering him a shrug. “Just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

He grunts. An awkward silence settles over you as he adjusts your suitcase in the trunk beside his, and you distract yourself by fiddling with your purse strap until he slams the lid closed.

“So…” you start after a few seconds. “Are we picking anyone else up?”

“Yugyeom,” Jungkook replies, opening up the driver’s side door and climbing in. Hesitantly, you make your way over to the other side of the car, wondering if there’s any way you can avoid sitting in the passenger seat without looking like a total weirdo.

“Oh! Jungkook’s here already?” Jimin exits the house at last, lugging his suitcase and a smaller backpack. He shoves both into the backseat of your mother’s van before coming over, frowning when he sees you hovering near the trunk. “Why are you just standing there?”

You make a face at him. “We’re waiting for you, dumbass. Who’s riding with you?”

“Tae, Minho, and Taemin,” your brother replies. “Didn’t you see the group chat this morning?”

“I muted it days ago,” you admit. “You guys were annoying as hell.” Then another thought strikes you, your brain belatedly registering the names Jimin listed. “Wait, what about the girls? Aren’t they coming?”

Your brother rolls his eyes. “Jisoo’s working as a camp counselor this summer, and Lisa has other vacation plans. Maybe if you hadn’t muted the chat, you’d have known that.”

He has a point, though you aren’t about to admit that. You’re also wise enough not to inquire about the third member of the trio, remembering Jisoo’s revelation at the party. It’s no surprise that Chaeyoung isn’t joining you for the weekend—you’d want to avoid extended periods of time with your ex-boyfriend too. At the thought, your gaze reluctantly flits back over to the ex in question, who raises an expectant brow when he catches your eye.

“Ready?” he calls out the open window.

No, you want to say. But Jimin has already clambered into the van and slammed the door shut, and Jungkook’s car is blocking the van in the driveway so you suck in a deep breath and slide into the passenger seat beside your dark-haired neighbor.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Jungkook nods and throws the car into reverse. One hand splays across the wheel while the other comes up to rest on the back of your seat, and your breath hitches when he cranes around to check his blind spots, his face suddenly too close for comfort.

He’s playing with you, you tell yourself firmly, leaning back until your back’s pressed against the door and you can safely breathe again. Chaeyoung. Think about what he did to Chaeyoung.

“Hey, I made a roadtrip mix,” Jungkook pipes up all of a sudden. He grabs his phone from where it’s resting on the dashboard, tapping at the screen until the first strains of a melody filter through the car speakers. “It should last us the whole way.”

You perk up when you recognize the tune. “Oh! I love this song.”

Jungkook watches out of the corner of his eye as you bob your head to the beat, before smiling down at his lap. “Yeah. I know.”

///

Yugyeom lives on the other side of town, in a sprawling, winding neighborhood that sends your brain—and your phone’s GPS—into a complete and total tailspin. “Wait, wait—hang on. I think you missed a turn. You must have.”

Jungkook’s face crumples in confusion as he slows the car to a crawl, drawing a few irritated honks from the cars behind you. “There weren’t any streets back there, though.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, twisting in your seat to get a better look. “The directions said to take a right in… oh, fuck, hang on. We’re not even on a digitized road anymore, apparently.”

Jungkook heaves a sigh, but when you glance up at him, he’s wearing a grin. “Come on, Noona. You’re supposed to be my navigator. I’m depending on you.”

“I only know how to get us to the lake house, not Yugyeom’s,” you sniff defensively. “This is way beyond my pay grade.”

Jungkook chortles and reaches out, extending an open palm. “Can I see your phone for a sec?” You nod, handing it over, and he clicks his tongue as he turns it upside-down—rotating it a full three hundred and sixty degrees before returning it. “We might be lost,” he declares.

“Gee, you don’t say.”

He chuckles again. Picking up his own phone, he swipes a thumb across the screen before handing the unlocked device over. ��Here, call Yugyeom. Put him on speaker, yeah?”

You hum in acknowledgement and scroll down in his contacts until you find the other boy’s name, clicking it open. A photo fills the screen as it rings—clearly a group photo from the way it’s cropped, zoomed in on Yugyeom and the ridiculous face he’s making.

“Is this from graduation?” you ask curiously.

Jungkook blinks and tears his gaze away from the windshield. “Huh?”

“Yugyeom’s contact photo,” you clarify, tilting the phone screen so he can see. “He’s got robes on.”

“Oh.” He looks away again, cheeks flushing. “Yeah. It’s lame, I know.”

You shake your head. “Don’t say that. I think it’s nice.”

Jungkook doesn’t get a chance to respond, but it’s impossible to miss the grin that crinkles his face and settles there. There’s a staticky hum as the line connects, and then Yugyeom’s voice is filling the vehicle, sounding as if he’s just rolled out of bed.

“Whaddaya want?”

“We can’t find your fucking house, man,” Jungkook says bluntly, turning onto a street that you’ve driven down at least three times by this point. “Where do you live?”

On the other end of the line, Yugyeom sighs. “Okay, okay. What street are you guys on?”

That gives Jungkook pause. “Uhh, Cedar Street? Oak Avenue? It has a tree name.”

“Neither of those streets exist, dude.”

“Birch Boulevard!” you exclaim. “We’re on Birch Boulevard. I saw the sign a while back.”

“Ah, okay. You’re close, then. Do you see a sign for Linden Lane?”

You glance around until you alight on a signpost. “Yeah.”

“Turn right onto it. Then take the first left, go past the cul-de-sac, and another left. Do not pass Go, and do not collect two-hundred dollars. I’m the fifth house on the right.”

He ends the call before you can ask him to repeat the directions, and you send Jungkook a helpless look. “Did you get all of that?”

“Besides the overused Monopoly joke?” Jungkook asks.. “Yeah, I got it. Right, left, left. Fifth house. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to get there.”

And true to his word, you arrive at the house three minutes later. Yugyeom is standing on the front step with rumpled hair and a duffel bag at his feet, and you snort when he throws open the car door and flops across the entirety of the backseat.

“Rough morning?”

“Stayed up late packing,” he says by way of explanation, his eyes already beginning to drift shut. Jungkook immediately turns the music up, and you giggle when Yugyeom shoots upright at the bassline that’s now shaking the entire vehicle. “I’m up, I’m up! Jeez, man.”

Jungkook just sends him an innocent grin in the rearview mirror. You turn the volume back down to a reasonable level as Yugyeom directs Jungkook onto the best route to take out of the neighborhood, and it isn’t long before you’re merging onto the highway that leads toward the coast.

You’re just beginning to get comfortable, staring out the window at the passing cityscape, when your leg vibrates with an incoming text notification. Glancing down, you see that Jungkook’s phone has slipped between your thigh and the seat, the screen lit with a new message.

[10:21am] Minho: gonna be at the store in 10

“Minho says they’ll be at the grocery store in ten minutes,” you relay to your companions. “We have a little longer to go. Probably another half hour or so.”

“We wouldn’t be so far behind if Yugyeom didn’t live in a fucking labyrinth,” Jungkook remarks, but a glance at the young man in the backseat reveals that he’s drifted off despite your earlier stunt. Rolling his eyes, he turns to you. “Can you text him back, Noona?”

You nod and hold out his phone so he can unlock it with his thumb. “Hey,” you say once you’ve hit send on the message. “Do you have a contact photo for me?”

Jungkook stiffens slightly, his gaze skittering between you and the road. “Oh. Uh, yeah, I guess I do. But it’s nothing, really. It’s kinda lame. But you… you can look at it if you want.”

Curiosity piqued, you scroll down until you find your name, tapping on the image beside it. The photo is from several years ago, during a family trip to the lake house with the Jeons. You are no older than fifteen, your arm slung around a fourteen-year-old Jungkook as the two of you stand knee-deep in the lake, wearing swimsuits and bright smiles. In the background, you can just barely make out a blurry Jimin mid-splash.

“I remember this,” you murmur, zooming in on your smiling faces. “That was a fun summer.”

“Junghyun was grumpy the whole time,” Jungkook recalls with a laugh. “But we had a good time, didn’t we? We practically lived in the lake that entire week.”

“Or that old canoe.” You grin, taking one last look at the photo before locking his phone and handing it back to him. “Remember? We’d always row out too far, and our parents would scream for us to come back before we fell in and drowned.”

Jungkook snickers. “As if I’d ever let you drown. I’m a great swimmer.”

“Are you saying I’m not?”

He backpedals immediately, realizing his mistake. “Hey, don’t twist my words. I said nothing of the sort.”

“That’s what I thought.” Giggling, you turn to look out the window, propping your chin in your palm as you watch the scenery flash past. “And I want that photo, by the way. Send it to me?”

“As soon as we get to the store,” Jungkook promises. “Speaking of which, we’re getting close. Keep an eye out for the exit for me?”

“Deal.”

///

Jimin and the others are waiting in the parking lot when you arrive, perched on and around the van as they watch Jungkook expertly maneuver the car into a neighboring parking space. “Took you long enough,” your brother says once the engine is cut, hopping off the hood and landing lightly on both feet.

“We’re here now, aren’t we?” you snark as you join the others hovering near the grocery store entrance. Jimin makes a face at you, and you stick your tongue out in response. After a quick huddle—wherein you form a very haphazard game plan—everyone disperses. Jimin grabs a shopping cart and heads inside with Taehyung and Minho, the latter of whom is trying to clamber his way into the cart to hitch a ride.

Sighing, you grab a shopping cart of your own and scan the interior of the store for the produce section. They’ve rearranged the aisles since you were last here, but you quickly find what you’re looking for and begin picking your way over when Jungkook materializes at your side.

“So, what are you thinking for food?” he asks, nudging you away so he can push the cart in your stead.

You allow him to take over, gesturing toward your destination. “I know my brother,” you tell him dryly. “He’s going to buy meat and completely forget about everything else. And I don’t trust any of you to buy a single fruit or vegetable.”

“I like fruit and vegetables,” Jungkook defends.

“You like everything,” you correct, flashing him a teasing grin before leading him into the produce section.

Grocery shopping with Jungkook turns out to be surprisingly pleasant—comfortable, even. He proves adept at finding the ripest fruits and greenest vegetables, and when you ask him to find some apples, he trots off immediately and returns with a handful of sweet potatoes in addition to your requested fruit.

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you planning to do with those?”

Jungkook feigns offense, slapping a hand to his heart. “That’s cold, Noona. Don’t you think I can cook?”

“I’ve never seen you cook in my life,” you respond. “How am I supposed to know if you can or not?”

“I can,” he promises. “And I’ll prove it too, if you let me.”

You get the feeling he’s not just talking about cooking anymore, but he doesn’t give you a chance to answer. Dropping the apples and potatoes into the cart, he flashes you a crooked little smile before turning toward a display of cabbages, leaving you to wonder at what exactly is going through his head.

///

It’s nearly one in the afternoon when you arrive at your family’s lake house. The last stretch of the drive takes you through the forest along a winding, narrow road, but Jungkook is a capable driver and you know the way well enough to warn him about any upcoming hairpin turns. Piling out of the car, the three of you make quick work of putting the food safely into the refrigerator. By the time you’re finished, Jimin and the others have arrived as well, lugging their belongings inside and setting them inside the entryway.

“So who’s sleeping where?” Taehyung asks, glancing around the house. It’s modestly sized, with a living area on one side and a combined dining room and kitchen on the other. Three bedrooms and a bathroom branch off of the hallway between them, ending in a back door that leads out to the lake. Through the window, you can see the water glimmering in the sunlight, hazy and golden.

“We’ll have to share,” Jimin says. “ If Noona takes one room, that leaves two bedrooms and the pullout couch for the rest of us.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “Rock, paper, scissors?” he suggests, drawing a chorus of groans.

“I always lose!” Jimin complains. “And Taemin cheats!”

“Do not!”

Laughing at the indignant expression on your brother’s face, you decide to leave them to it and head to your bedroom with your luggage in tow. The room is just as you remember it, with a bed tucked against one wall and a dresser on the opposite. There are three doors in total—one that you just entered through, and another that opens into a small closet. The third leads to a bathroom—shared with the bedroom on the other side of the wall that usually belongs to Jimin. Vaguely, you wonder who will be sleeping there tonight, before setting your suitcase on the bed and unzipping it.

“Fuck!”

You jump at the sudden shout, poking your head out into the hallway to see what’s causing all the commotion. Yugyeom is kneeling on the floor with his head down, a crestfallen Taemin standing beside him. Meanwhile, Taehyung and Minho look supremely pleased with themselves, and you see why when they grab their bags and practically skip to the master bedroom across the hall, collapsing onto the king-sized bed.

“Have fun on the couch, losers!” Jimin singsongs, grabbing Jungkook by the wrist and dragging him into their newly won bedroom on your side of the hallway. “Lake in fifteen minutes, so get changed! Last one there’s in charge of dinner!”

The door slams shut behind him, and you roll your eyes before turning back to your opened suitcase and pulling out a book. There’s a perfectly shaded spot beneath one of the trees along the water, and you fully intend to capitalize on the last few hours of daylight before the sun begins to set.

Minho is the only one outside when you exit the house, standing on the dock in a pair of green swim trunks. He waves at you cheerily before cannonballing into the lake, and you squeak as the resulting splash sends water splattering across the front of your shirt.

“Sorry!” he calls when he resurfaces, shaking his hair out like a wet dog.

You wave off his apology with a laugh, settling down onto the soft grass at the base of your chosen tree and opening up your book. The other boys trickle out of the house one by one, but you barely notice. It isn’t until a triumphant shout pierces the air that you finally glance up to see what’s causing all the commotion, your gaze immediately landing on Taehyung standing on the back steps of the house.

“Trust me,” he says, unbothered by his apparent tardiness. “You don’t want me to make dinner.”

Minho pulls a face and straightens up from where he’d been floating on his back. “You know, he kinda has a point there.”

Murmurs of agreement all around. Taehyung gives Jimin a smug smile, who scowls from where he’s sitting at the end of the dock, his bare feet dangling over the edge. “So what now? Do we have to play rock, paper, scissors again?”

“Nah, I’ll do it.”

Every head whips around to face Jungkook, yours included. He’s standing a short ways from where you’re sitting—his approach so quiet that you hadn’t even heard him arrive. The last time you checked, he’d been diving off the dock with Minho and Yugyeom, water pooling in his collarbones and dripping down the ridges of his taut abdomen each time he resurfaced.

Not that you’d been looking, of course.

“Really?” Jimin looks aghast at his best friend’s declaration. “You can cook?”

Jungkook scoffs in disbelief and plops down beside you, leaning back against the tree trunk. “Why does everyone in your family seem surprised by that?” he asks, his lip jutting out in a petulant frown. “Do I seem like someone who can’t cook?”

“Yes,” you tell him honestly, marking your page and letting the book fall shut. “Don’t take it personally, though. Men only learn how to cook in college when they have to start fending for themselves. And sometimes, not even then.”

The noise that leaves Jungkook’s mouth can best be described as disgruntled, but he doesn’t press any further. Instead, he peers over your shoulder to get a look at the cover of your book, mouthing the title to himself before glancing at you. “Haven’t I seen you reading this before?”

“Probably,” you admit. “It’s an old favorite.”

He hums, slouching back against the tree again, and when you look over, you see that both his eyes have fallen shut. With his mouth parted and his dark lashes resting on his cheeks, he looks years younger than he is—and so much more like the Jungkook you used to know.

“Tired?” you whisper.

“Long drive,” Jungkook whispers back, his head already beginning to loll. “Lemme sleep, Noona.”

Smiling to yourself, you return to your book and leave him to rest.

///

“So, what are you even planning to make?” Jimin asks, swinging his legs. He’s seated atop the kitchen counter, taking up the majority of what precious little space there is to begin with, and Jungkook sighs deeply as he’s forced to dodge around him yet again to peer into the refrigerator.

“You’ll see.”

“I don’t think you even know yet,” Taemin pipes up from the doorway. The other boys are in the living room playing Mario Kart, but Taemin and Jimin have selflessly pulled themselves away from the game to help their friend in the kitchen—or so they say. As far as you’re concerned, they’ve been nothing but a nuisance thus far, but you don’t voice that particular thought aloud.

“Ramen doesn’t count as making dinner,” Jimin points out snidely when Jungkook pauses too long next to the box of ramen packs. “Anyone can boil water. And you don’t get to add an egg and call it fancy, like you usually do.”

“My ramen is delicious, excuse you,” Jungkook retorts, pointing a spatula at him. “And that’s not even what I’m making, so fuck off.”

Jimin shrugs, but shuts his mouth nonetheless. You take the opportunity to throw some pork belly at him, the meat wrapped neatly in paper and tied off with twine. “Here,” you tell him. “You could at least make yourself useful and start grilling the meat.”

“Okay, mom,” your brother grumbles under his breath, hopping off the counter. He and Taemin head out to the back porch where the grill sits, and you join Jungkook at the stove where he’s staring thoughtfully at an empty pan.

“Try twisting the dial. I’ve heard that helps.”

Jungkook snaps out of his daze and turns to you. “Huh?”

“The stove. It won’t light itself, you know.”

Chuckling, Jungkook twists the dial as instructed, adding a drizzle of oil to the pan. As it heats up, he turns and selects a knife from the cutlery drawer. The sweet potatoes he’d insisted on purchasing are already washed and peeled, and you watch as he begins to slice them, your gaze automatically flitting down to his exposed forearms, his muscles flexing with every movement.

“Hey, Noona? Can you do me a favor?”

You blink, tearing your gaze from the branching veins lining his arms. “What?”

Jungkook, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice your distracted state. “Can you put the rice in the microwave?” he asks, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Why?” you tease. “Are you still scared?”

“Of course not,” he retorts, but you don’t miss the wary look that flashes across his face when you plop the rice inside and go to punch in the cook time.

The remainder of the cooking goes smoothly. Jimin and Taemin return with the grilled meat, and Jungkook rebuffs your offer to set the table, leaving his position at the stove to lay plates and utensils down on the table himself. “I’m just about done, anyway,” he tells you, gesturing at the plate of glazed sweet potatoes on the counter. “Sit down and relax, Noona.”

“Fine,” you relent, taking a seat. Jimin takes the chair beside you, and Taemin plops down on his other side. Jungkook sits down just to your left once he’s finished laying out the food, and for a brief, insane moment, you almost think that he’s going to repeat what he’d done at his graduation dinner. But the dark-haired young man remains on his best behavior, keeping his hands to himself under the table, and you aren’t sure whether you’re grateful or disappointed.

The meal flies by in a flurry of laughter and conversation. Jungkook discovers that his glazed sweet potatoes have adhered to the plate, and sends everyone into hysterics when he promptly starts spinning it around like a steering wheel.

It’s a good night. And at the end of it, you go to bed warm and content, with a belly full of food and a smile on your face.

///

You awaken to the sound of chirping songbirds and gentle waves lapping at the shore the next morning, thoroughly rejuvenated after an undisturbed night’s sleep. Stretching your arms overhead, you yawn and bask in the comfort of your bed for a few more moments before getting up and heading to the bathroom, thankful that you don’t have to fight anyone for sink occupancy. The toilet seat is even down, which comes as a welcome surprise, all things considered.

Before long, you are back in your bedroom, rifling through the contents of your suitcase. Belatedly, you realize that you’ve packed only one swimsuit—and a bikini, at that. Cheeks warming, you pull the two pieces out, holding them up against your body. Has it always been this small? You don’t remember. All you know is that Jungkook has two fully functional eyes, and there’s no way that he won’t be looking at every inch of skin you choose to expose.

In the end, you settle on wearing the bikini beneath a flowy, floral kimono-style robe, tied at the waist to form a makeshift dress. The ensemble reaches just past your knees and is sheer enough to still show skin, but you no longer feel as self-conscious going out into the view of your companions and that’s a victory as far as you’re concerned. Checking your reflection one last time, you adjust your sash before opening the bedroom door and heading down the hall for some breakfast.

Unsurprisingly, the kitchen is empty when you walk in, tiptoeing past a still slumbering Taemin and Yugyeom on the pullout couch. You savor the quiet as you start up the old coffeemaker, pulling a mug from the cabinet and rinsing it out to get rid of any lingering dust. The weather app on your phone promises that it’ll be a clear, cloudless day, and a glance out the window confirms it. Silently, you debate whether or not to crack a window.

Your musings are interrupted by the arrival of Taehyung, his brown hair sticking up at all angles. Blearily, he trundles to the fridge and grabs the orange juice, seemingly two seconds away from chugging it straight from the carton before you clear your throat and push a clean glass toward him. You think you hear him mumble a thank you.

As the morning wears on, the others slowly begin to trickle in. Breakfast is a disorganized affair that leaves bread crumbs all over the counter, and nearly causes a fight when everyone seems to want their eggs cooked a different way.

“Look, if you wanted your egg soft-boiled, you should’ve made it yourself!” Jimin grouches to Taehyung, the t-shirt over his head muffling his words. Everyone else is already in the water, splashing about, but you’re seated on the end of the dock with your brother and Taehyung, who looks thoroughly unfazed behind his tinted sunglasses.

“Maybe if I knew how to soft boil an egg, I would have.”

“Google exists,” Jimin says, finally freeing himself from the shirt and tossing it aside.

Taehyung nods sagely. “Exactly. So why didn’t you use it?”

Jimin is beginning to look positively murderous, so when Minho swims over and taps your submerged ankle, you are beyond grateful for the distraction. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Are you gonna swim, or are you gonna sit onshore the whole time?” Minho asks, raking his wet bangs out of his eyes. “The water’s not even cold, so get in here.”

Pointedly, you wiggle your toes. “Feels pretty cold to me.”

“Okay, fine. It’s cold.” Minho grins. “But you get used to it.”

You sigh at his easy admission. “All men do is lie. How am I supposed to believe you?”

He raises a brow. “Do I need to pull you in and dunk you under?”

“I will kick you if you even try,” you tell him, standing up and shrugging off your robe. An audible hush falls as the gauzy material pools around your ankles—Jungkook stops wrestling with Yugyeom and trying to dunk him underwater, and Taemin pauses mid-splash, his hair drenched and dripping.

It’s Minho who breaks the silence first, letting loose a low whistle of appreciation. “Damn, {Name}.”

Jimin grabs a shoe from the pile on the dock and chucks it at him, hard. “Dude, that’s my fucking sister!”

“Ow! What the fuck, man, that’s my shoe!”

“Quit ogling my sister!”

“I’m not!” Minho yells, just as Jimin chucks the other shoe and hits him square in the mouth. “Okay, I’m not anymore. Sorry, okay?”

Once he’s sufficiently sure that Jimin is done attacking him, Minho turns to you. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you reassure him. “Honestly, it was kinda good for my self-esteem. And I don’t need you defending my honor, or whatever it is you think you’re doing,” you add, glancing over at your disgruntled brother.

“Men are pigs,” Jimin sniffs. “I won’t apologize.”

You ruffle his hair good-naturedly. “I know, Chim. You’re right.” Then your smile turns mischievous. “I won’t apologize for what I’m about to do, either.”

And then you grab him by the arm and drag him into the lake, the cold water submerging you in an instant and stealing the breath out of your lungs. You’re both gasping by the time you resurface, blinking water out of your eyes, and you squeal when Jimin takes the opportunity to splash you again.

Hours pass—the sun rising higher overhead. Around noon, Taehyung disappears inside the house and returns with an assortment of snacks and sandwich fixings, ushering everyone over for an impromptu lunch on the dock. You dip your feet into the water as you munch on a bag of chips, and Jungkook plops down beside you with a juice box in one hand and a ham sandwich in the other.

“Wanna go for a ride in the canoe after lunch?” he asks, jabbing a thumb back in the direction of the house. “I found it in the garage.”

You laugh. “Really? I thought for sure we got rid of that thing. Are you sure it hasn’t sprung a leak?”

Jungkook’s face crinkles into a grin. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see, huh?”

You grin back and raise your cup, the lemonade inside swishing around. “I’ll hang on to this, just in case I need to start bailing water out.”

Lunchtime winds down gradually. Jungkook polishes off his sandwich and trots off to fetch the canoe, waving off your offers to help before disappearing around the corner of the house. You watch him return a few minutes later from your seat on the end of the dock, resting your weight back on your hands and swirling your pruney toes in the water. He’s stripped off the loose white tee he’d donned during lunch, his golden skin cast in shadow by the canoe perched across his bare shoulders, and your gaze trails from his bulging biceps down to the ridges of his abdomen. The muscles flex with every step he takes, and you hastily take another sip of lemonade in an effort to combat the sudden dryness in your throat.

With a grunt, Jungkook comes to a stop at your elbow, heaving the boat into the water. The impact sends ripples across the lake and the butterflies in your belly into a frenzy, and you nearly fall off the dock when Jungkook touches your shoulder gently.

“Ready to go, Noona?”

You nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak. Jungkook holds the boat steady with one hand while offering you the other, and you gratefully grasp it as you step off the dock. The canoe rocks dangerously when Jungkook clambers in after you, but quickly steadies when he picks up an oar and jabs at the dock to push off into the lake. The glimmering expanse of blue water stretches before you, and you relax as you let your fingers dangle off the side of the boat, watching ripples form beneath your fingertips.

“I can help row,” you say after a few moments, casting a glance over at Jungkook. He’s settled into a rhythm now, the veins and tendons in his arm flexing with each movement, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he’s sitting.

“You—” Jungkook says, fixing you with a playful stare, “—just enjoy the ride, yeah?”

Shaking your head, you smile and turn back around to admire the view. Sunlight reflects off the rippling water, lending a golden iridescence to the glittering blue depths. In the distance, the opposite shoreline rises up, crowned with rocky outcrops and majestic dark green pines.

With a start, you realize how far away you’ve gotten from the other boys. The shouts and laughter from the house are quickly fading into the background, and you nervously turn to look at Jungkook as he rows you even further.

“God, my dad would freak if he saw us right now,” you remark, trying to diffuse the sudden tension that’s settled. “I mean, we don’t even have life jackets. He’d lose his mind.”

Jungkook hums. He stops rowing, his hands stilling on the oars, and you’re just about to ask him what’s wrong when a warm hand glides up your thigh.

“You think you could maybe stop talking about your dad, princess?” Then he smirks. “Unless you’re into the whole daddy kink thing, because I’d be down to explore that at some point if you want—“

“Jungkook!” you hiss, scandalized.

“Yes?” the young man in question hums, his face the picture of innocence. It’s hard to muster up your vocabulary when he’s looking up at you with those wide doe eyes, but you somehow manage to prevail over your malfunctioning brain.

“We’re in public!” you whisper, glancing back at the shore where your brother and his friends have started an impromptu game of water polo.

Jungkook smirks crookedly at you. “Guess you better not scream too loud, then.”

And then, before you can open your mouth to protest—before you can even try to call his bluff—he’s slipped his hand into your bikini bottoms and found his way to your clit. Your entire body spasms when he presses into it experimentally, and the resulting snicker that escapes him is nothing short of infuriating.

“Careful,” he coos, laying his free hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing nonsensical circles into the soft skin. “Don’t wanna rock the boat, now.”

Then he returns his attention to your clit, pinching the nub just to watch you jolt in his grasp and soothing you with a gentle kiss to the knee afterward. Your skin warms beneath the plush of his lips, and the pleased smile that curves them is all the warning you get before he sheathes a single finger in your clenching core. “Jungkook—” you gasp, shoving uselessly at his bare shoulders, but you can’t keep the edge of desire out of your voice. You can’t hide the growing wetness between your legs either—wetness that he most certainly feels as he slips another finger inside, pumping into you with ease.

“God, look at you,” he murmurs, his eyes trained on the way you clench around him. “So pretty like this. So pretty, getting fucked by my fingers. I could do this all day.”

“We—we don’t have all day,” you whisper. The last syllable dissolves into a moan as Jungkook eases a third finger into your cunt, and you scrabble to ground yourself when he picks up his leisurely pace. One hand settles on the edge of the boat, your fingernails digging into the wood, while the other finds Jungkook’s bicep. His arm flexes beneath your grip with each snap of his wrist, and you keen when he crooks his fingers just right and sends stars skittering across your vision.

He knows that you’re getting close. You can tell from the growing furrow between his brows and the hard set of his jaw, and you can tell that he won’t stop until he gets you off. Concentration etches across his face, and you gasp when his thumb finds your clit again.

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook—”

“That’s it,” he rasps, digging deeper and thumbing roughly across your bundle of nerves. “Cum for me.”

And you do. With one final flick of his wrist, Jungkook sends you hurtling over the edge that he’s so effortlessly built, a cresting wave of pleasure overtaking your body and spreading through your veins. Your leg kicks out instinctively, rocking the canoe dangerously in the water, but Jungkook catches you by the ankle with his free hand and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. He shifts his weight until you’re steadied once more, and only then does he ease his fingers out of you, raising them to his mouth to lick them clean.

“Think we can sneak away so I can fuck you properly?” he asks.

Your cheeks heat up at the lewd display, warming even more when his words register in your muddled brain. “Oh my god, Jungkook.”

“That’s exactly what you’ll be saying when I really get my hands on you,” Jungkook agrees. Flashing you a mischievous grin, he drops his hand over the edge of the boat, letting the turquoise water wash away any lingering fluids. “What do you think? The backseat of my car isn’t half bad…”

“I will literally push you into this lake,” you tell him, trying and failing to hide a disbelieving laugh. “Why are you such a perv?”

“You like it,” Jungkook defends immediately. “‘Sides,” he adds, casting a wary glance at the shore where Jimin and the others are still fully engrossed in their game, “I wanna kiss you while I fuck you. It’s not as good like this.”

At that, something dangerously close to affection blooms in your belly, winding its curious tendrils around your heart. Swallowing the feeling down, you pick up one of the oars instead, handing it over to him before hefting the other. “Come on,” you murmur. “They’re gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah. Probably.”

And then he raises the oar you just handed him, lifting it until the paddle covers both of your faces, and boldly plants a firm kiss on your mouth.

“I’ll row us back,” he declares casually when he pulls away, as if he hasn’t just stolen all the oxygen from your lungs. As if your lips aren’t burning where he’s kissed you, your cheeks hot beneath his gentle exhalations. As if you aren’t positively thrumming with the desire to pull him back in, and maybe take him up on his offer to fuck you in the backseat of his beat-up sedan.

“Yeah,” you say instead, your voice hoarse. “Let’s go.”

///

What few remaining hours of daylight you have, you decide to spend inside. Jungkook gets roped into the water polo match as soon as the two of you return to shore, and you take the opportunity to slip into the house and clean yourself up. Safely locked away in the bathroom, you strip off your damp bikini bottoms and toss them in the sink. The top follows, and you give both a quick wash, doing your best to ignore the remaining slick from your orgasm that stubbornly coats the material.

Once everything is washed and hanging up to dry, you step into the shower. Warm water soaks your hair and slides down your back, and you tilt your head back to let the spray wash your worries away, relishing in the rare moment of peace and quiet.

By the time you’ve toweled off and gotten dressed, you can hear the boys beginning to traipse back into the house. From what you can make out, they’re making dinner plans, and you poke your head out curiously when Jimin mentions you by name.

“What are you saying about me?” you ask, narrowing your eyes accusingly at your brother.

Jimin whirls around, his cherubic face a perfect picture of innocence. “Nothing! I was just talking about your fried rice and how good it is…”

“You’re trying to get me to make you dinner,” you sigh. “I knew it.”

“No, we’ll help!” your brother promises. “I swear, as soon as I get out of the shower, I’ll chop all the vegetables.”

“Sure you will,” you snort, brushing past him and heading for the kitchen.

Much to your surprise, the kitchen is already occupied when you arrive. Jungkook and Yugyeom are at the counter—the former poised with a knife at the ready, about to slice into an onion. The latter is digging through the cabinets, and both turn at the sound of your footsteps.

“Hey,” Yugyeom says. “You probably know where the bottle opener is, right?”

You nod. “Left of the sink, second drawer down.” Then you turn your attention to Jungkook, peering curiously over his shoulder. “What’s the onion for?”

“Dinner,” he replies, flashing you a crooked little smile. “We’re making fried rice, aren’t we?”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest and races to catch up, thumping erratically against your ribcage. It’s hard to ignore the warmth blossoming in your belly—near impossible to ignore the butterflies that have made a home there—but you somehow manage to school your expression into something passably neutral and busy yourself with the other vegetables on the counter. “I see Jimin got to you, too. Is the other cutting board clean?”

Jungkook nods, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the dish rack. “Washed it last night, yeah. It’s all yours, Noona.”

You hum and skirt around Yugyeom to grab the clean board and another knife. Chopping vegetables goes a lot faster with two people, and Yugyeom does his part by cracking open two bottles of beer and plunking one down next to each of you before opening a third for himself. “Hydrate,” he orders, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and taking a sip.

It doesn’t take long to finish making dinner. As promised, Jimin joins you as soon as he’s out of the shower, plucking the knife out of your hand and nudging you aside so he can finish cutting the vegetables. You fire up the stove and drizzle some oil into a pan, and smile when Taehyung brings you the container of leftover rice and a large serving bowl.

“You know what we should do?” Minho asks as you’re all sitting down to eat. Yugyeom’s opened more beers, and Jimin’s brought out the wine as well. Jungkook is spooning out fried rice for everyone, and you accept the bowl he hands you with a murmur of thanks before looking at Minho expectantly.

“What should we do?”

“Go to the beach,” he replies, tilting the remainder of his beer back into his mouth. “It’s only an hour away, isn’t it?”

“Closer to half an hour without traffic,” Jimin corrects. “But, yeah, we should go. That would be fun.”

By the time dinner is finished, you’ve finalized plans to drive down to the beach in the morning. “Remember, we’re leaving at ten,” you tell Jimin, elbowing him in the ribs. “That means you have to wake up before ten.”

“I know!” your brother whines, rubbing the spot where you elbowed him with a grimace. “Jeez, Noona. I’m good at waking up. It’s Jungkook and Tae you have to worry about.”

“Says the punk who takes hour-long showers,” you snark. “What are you gonna do when you have to pay your own water bills, huh?”

“Shower at your place,” he replies smugly. “You can’t turn me away. I’m your brother.”

“Please, that’s exactly why I can turn you away, you little mooch.”

“You love me!”

“Really? You wanna test that theory?”

The remainder of the evening passes in a blur of booze and board games, unearthed from the closet in the hall. Despite your collective agreement to go to bed early, it’s past midnight when you finally bid everyone goodnight and crawl underneath your covers. Shutting your eyes, you will your brain to settle and your limbs to relax, and you’re on the verge of drifting off when your phone suddenly buzzes. Lazily, you roll over and snatch the device off the nightstand, taking in the late hour before your eyes flit down to the new notification and go wide.

[1:02am] Jungkook: IMG_497

You freeze, thumb hovering just above the message. Even when your screen goes dark again, you can’t erase the sight of his name lighting up your phone, the attachment sitting there like a taunt. You shouldn’t open it. You can’t open it.

But curiosity gnaws at your belly, fraying the edges of your resolve. Slowly, you wake the screen, watching as Jungkook’s name fills it once more. You hesitate, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth.

And then your phone buzzes again, several times in quick succession.

[1:04am] Jungkook: i miss you, noona

[1:04am] Jungkook: miss your pretty face

[1:04am] Jungkook: miss how tight your pussy felt around my fingers

You drop the device as if scorched. It takes several moments to gather your wits again, but when you do, pick up your phone, clicking on his name and scrolling up to the attachment. In the darkness of your bedroom, you watch with bated breath as it downloads.

“Fuck.”

The expletive slips past your lips, unbidden, but you can’t help it. Jungkook stares out at you from the photograph illuminating your screen, his eyes hooded and his lips curled into a devious smirk. He’s in the shared bathroom between your bedrooms, and even though it’s dark inside, the flash of his camera is just enough to illuminate the distinctive palm tree patterned shower curtain behind him.

But, you aren’t focused on that.

No, your focus is zeroed in on the foreground of the photo, where you can perfectly make out the head of Jungkook’s cock, sticky and leaking copiously from between his fingers.

“Fuck,” you repeat, louder this time.

And as if reading your mind, another text flashes onto your screen.

[1:07am] Jungkook: wish your pretty little pussy was stretched around my cock right now, princess

You aren’t sure what possesses you to send the response you do, but your thumbs are moving before the more rational side of your brain can catch up and stop you.

[1:07am] You: why don’t you come over and make it happen then?

You’ve only just hit send when the bathroom door swings open, revealing Jungkook standing there in nothing but sweatpants. His face is illuminated in the stark white light shining from his screen, his eyes dark and his smirk even darker. Every movement drips with intent, from the way his lips quirk upward to the way he saunters over to join you on your bed, dropping his phone somewhere amongst the rumpled sheets. The room goes dark.

And then…

“Hey, princess.”

His lips are at your ear, hot breath caressing your cheeks and sending shivers down the length of your spine. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he joins you, a hand finding your bare thigh before sliding up to grasp your hip. Only an oversized t-shirt and a thin pair of cotton panties shield you from his roving fingers, and you can tell from the pleased curve of his mouth that he isn’t going to let either stand in his way. One hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, dancing along your ribcage, and you let out a breathy gasp when he trails up and skims along the soft skin just below the swell of your breasts.

“Been thinking about you all night, you know,” Jungkook whispers, pushing up your shirt and peppering kisses along every inch of newly revealed flesh. “Been thinking about how pretty you looked, cumming around my fingers, and how much prettier you’d look cumming around my cock.”

Your shirt is long forgotten by this point, tugged overhead and thrown carelessly over his shoulder. Jungkook hauls you closer, slotting himself between your spread legs, and you shiver when he presses the pad of his thumb against your clothed clit, the material uncomfortably damp as it clings to your folds.

“Jungkook—” His name escapes you in an airy whisper. “Please.”

Even in the darkness, you can see the satisfied, self-assured tilt of his lips. “Such a good girl for me,” he croons, leaning down to press a kiss to your waiting mouth. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek while the other remains between your legs, and you gasp sharply when he digs his thumb a little harder against your clit, circling the sensitive bud.

Jungkook seizes upon the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, licking into your mouth with unrestrained ardor. Your panties are peeled away, the cottony material disappearing right alongside the pressure of his thumb, and the inadvertent whine that escapes you has him chuckling darkly in his throat.

“What is it, princess?” Jungkook rasps, his voice dipping several pitches. “You have to tell me what you want, remember?”

You clutch at his wrist weakly, tugging it back between your legs until he finally indulges you and resumes his lazy revolutions around your clit. “Want you,” you whisper. “Want you inside me.”

Jungkook lets out a pleased hum, rewarding you with a single finger that he slips into your sopping entrance, your juices aiding the smooth glide as he curls it up in search of the spot that’ll have you seeing stars. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t,” you agree shakily. “But it looks like you are, so why don’t you let me help you out?”

Jungkook chuckles softly, his lips ghosting across the swell of your cheek. “Oh, yeah? And how exactly do you plan on helping me?”

Slowly, you reach down, letting your fingers graze the sizable bulge in his sweatpants. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? Me, stretched around your cock?”

A low groan escapes him when you give him a firm stroke, your fingers barely meeting around his length. “On your back,” he commands hoarsely, nudging you backward until you’re nestled into your pillows. Freeing his erection from the confines of his sweatpants, he settles comfortably between your spread legs, the mattress groaning in protest at the shift in weight.

“Wait,” you whisper, grabbing his wrist. “Did you hear that?”

His face scrunches in confusion. “Hear what?” he asks, as if he’s never heard that particular string of words before. “Are you sure it wasn’t just—”

He stops mid-sentence, and you both hear it again—the unmistakable creaking of bedsprings from next door. “Shit!” you hiss, scrambling back on the mattress until you’re nearly pressed against the headboard. “Oh, god. That’s Jimin. He’s going to kill you if he finds you in here—”

On the other side of the wall, the door to the shared bathroom opens, the light flickering on and illuminating the crack beneath your door. You hear your brother cursing sleepily under his breath as the toilet lid clatters open, and nearly shove Jungkook off the bed in your haste to get him out of your room.

“You have to go,” you whisper frantically, herding him toward the door that leads out into the hall.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls his pants back over his hips, and you can practically see him willing his erection to go away. “What am I supposed to say if he asks?”

“I don’t know! Pretend you were going for a glass of water or something!”

With a final push, you shove him out of your bedroom, leaning against the door with a relieved sigh when it clicks shut behind him. You hear Jungkook shuffle off just as Jimin flushes, and cast a prayer up to any deities that may exist as you listen to him wash his hands. And it seems your prayers are answered, as quiet descends over the house once more. Off in the distance, you think you hear Minho snoring.

Letting out another sigh, you return to bed, crawling beneath the covers and getting comfortable. And when sleep finally takes you, you dream of Jeon Jungkook.

#bangtanarmynet #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook #bts #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #lia writes

[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Page of Swords

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | three

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You attempt a new skill. Mando attempts to teach you.

Word count: 4.7k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings/tags: gun usage/mentioning throughout, mature language, pining, more dirty thots-ish, angst because why not, does this count as fluff? sure, gun kink if you squint w/o your glasses

Notes: As the reader (you/us) begins to become more familiar with Mando, his perspective starts bleeding in to the narrative, without a blocked off POV. Also, the reader’s past will start weaving (incoherently?) into the story as well. The large italicized chunks denote past tense interactions (which is probably obvious but who knows any more). Cheers x (gif credit: @djarinsgf)

A shot rings out.

Birds explode from the canopy with offended squawks, squalling in a winged flurry to scatter every which way until they recede again into the green, disappearing back into their hiding places. You groan. You thought you’d be better at this.

It’s not that you thought you were some sort of savant, you just didn’t expect to be this bad. Honestly, it’s embarrassing—you’re embarrassingly terrible— like statistically, you should have hit something by now, but you just keep missing—a crowded tree line in front of you, and not a scratch in sight—nary a singed branch nor a bullet holed trunk. It’s almost impressive how poor of a shot you are—and you would be, if you weren’t so damn exasperated with the whole affair. With a frustrated grunt, you throw your hands up, brandishing the weapon haphazardly.

“Careful,” Mando warns slyly, “you could hurt someone with that thing.”

“Yeah, well at least I’d hit something,” you grumble.

The kid had been fussy - almost unbearably so - in the weeks that followed your short stint on Bajic, and your party was itching for some time off the Razor Crest. After his third tantrum in a day, Mando decided to land on some unknown planet you couldn’t even spell to stretch your legs and take a breather.

You had almost sobbed when you saw him drag his menagerie of weaponry over. You knew what this meant, you knew what came next—his weekly, routine buff.

You think he’s doing it on purpose.

Ever since the first time, when you damn near had a conniption ogling him, you swear it’s like he’s doing it just to mess with you. He isn’t—of course he isn’t, rationally you knew that, in fact there was plenty of evidence to the contrary. He’s a Mandalorian—weapons are apart of his religion for kriff’s sake—but Maker does it seem intentional. Premeditated. It’s like you can feel the blistering ray of his gaze on you as he takes his time, roving a leathered hand over the bulge of the shaft—greasing it, stripping it, part by metal part…

It’s all in your head, you told yourself. It’s all in your fucking head and you need to get a grip.

Immediately you sprang into action, busying yourself with anything you could get your stupid, little hands on—in this case, being one of his many blasters.

“I wanna give it a go,” you said.

He let you, surprisingly. He hesitated, at first, his helmet tipping at a disbelieving angle. But he gave in—it took less effort on your part than you’d figured—and Mando conceded. He obliged.

How hard could it be? You thought.

Famous last words.

He’s parked there, settled on a throne of crates pushed flush to the Crest, slouched against the outer hull of the ship as he cleans, from the looks of it, every item in his arsenal—a front row seat to your pathetic endeavor and you’re failing—epically, ridiculously—shot after errant shot.

You line yourself up, scrunching your face in concentration as you bare the blaster in your hands. Maybe this time…

You fire off a round and an animal scampers scared in the thicket. Nothing. Another sublime miss.

You hear a noise come from Mando’s direction, something subtle like a blip of static through his helmet - Maker, he’s laughing at you - and you pivot around to him.

“What,” you ask, although it's less of a question and more of a griping pout. He replies with silence, that fickle language he's mastered to perfection all on his own, his focus pitched down to the bristled rod he’s driving in and out of his rifle, scouring out the residue from the inner barrel. “Ugh, what Mando?” you say, just shy of a whine, one hand slotted on your hip, the other dangling by your side, the pistol foreign and cumbersome in your grasp.

“Didn’t say anything,” he replies with a half shrug, his pauldrons shifting so imperceptibly you almost miss it. You pause, hurling him a look that misses him completely before you heave a frustrated sound.

“Fine, you show me how it’s done then.”

The T of his visor finds you. Its cold and unknowable as he rolls his helmet, tilting it up to you, hands slowing their ministrations to a rest. He’s wears a glare, carved into the steel hollow of the plates—unamused and smoldering—and with it, you feel small; microscopic and withering under his pointed gaze— suddenly too exposed in the open patch of jungled wilderness they’ve landed in and your mouth tweaks, teeth grazing the plush there. You assume he won’t do it. There’s no way he’ll rise to such obvious of a challenge, but he’s sighing—you can see it in the slant of his armor—and marching towards you before you can take it back, drawing closer and closer until Mando’s slated in front of you, expectant and postured and you forget— like the skip of a record, you forget why he’s even there— not a foot before you— and your eyes dance across his helm, flickering back and forth.

“May I?” he nods down to the pistol in your hand and you start - oh, shit - and offer it to him clumsily.

Mando squares off against the untamed green. The air lays hot and sticky around them. There is no trace of wind, no glimmer of breeze, and his cape hangs mute down his back. You’d never seen him fire his weapon. He surrounded himself with them, sure, always had at least two strapped to him at all times— probably even slept with one, you reckon— but you’ve never seen him use one.

With one solid movement, he cranes his arm, taking aim.

Now, you aren’t one to condone violence, but he just looks right doing it; an extension of himself with how natural it is, how innate— an added appendage, born unto him. The pistol looks good in his fist, like it couldn’t possibly belong anywhere else, the orange tips of his glove curling around the hilt, looping over that sensitive release.

He has practiced hands. Methodical. Sturdy. It’s sensual, to watch him like this. Pornographic even— sacrilege in a way. A part of you wants to look away and turn your gaze, grant him privacy as he handles the blaster— delicately, confidently. It’s intimate.

The pistol croons in his palm. She bends, supple and lilting. He knows just where to touch, where to stroke— she does anything he tells her. She melts for him.

Warmth pools in your mouth. Mando pulls the trigger.

He lands an impressive shot onto an impossibly narrow tree trunk nestled further in, and your features contort with amazement. Maybe you want to see it again—like a nosy neighbor peeping in through drawn curtains. Maybe you’re being reckless and smarmy, and maybe you know it. A Mandalorian’s got a gun in his hand and you’re prodding him - brilliant strategy, top marks - but your adrenaline is pumping something fierce and you feel yourself grow bold with each seize of your heart.

“Lucky shot,” you huff.

He pans to you, lolling his head, visor locked onto your face. Without flinching, without gracing you with a remark, he raises his arm and fires— doesn’t even have to kriffing look. The scorch mark sizzles - haughtily, jeering - no more than a few inches away from the first. You nearly choke on the arrogance of it— the lazy, smug performance— like he can’t be bothered with any of it, as if your taunts are all so beneath him.

You have to bite down on your lip to stop it from snaking into a wicked grin.

Mando offers the pistol back to you, flipping it grip-side up in a fancy flourish before striding - strutting - back to his post. You shake your head, a determined set to your jaw and you retake your aim, squinting in the hazy afternoon light, pulling the trigger— and nothing happens.

Again, click. Nothing, click after fruitless click. You make a face, pinching—

“Safety’s on.”

You flush, thanking the Maker that your back is towards him, and switch it down with your thumb. “Right,” you mumble sheepishly, wetting your lip. You align your sights, bracing yourself for the impact—

“It’s your stance.”

Three words.

Three words, the only solace Mando provides before devoutly returning to his work.

You wait for him to elaborate, to edify you— for any manner of sage advice— but the explanation never comes; he leaves you like this, marooned with three fucking words and you have to screw your eyes shut. This man is baffling— maddeningly unhelpful— infuriatingly sparse. It makes you want to howl and rip your hair out— and you whip around violently.

“What about my st-”

Your question comes scampering to a halt, tail between your legs, throat gone dry. Mando has planted himself directly behind you— standing so close you can see your reflection in his beskar, see the blush blurring your cheek under the alien sun.

“What uh, what about my stance?” you ask, mousier now, swallowed up by the sheer size of him so near to you.

“It’s not wide enough.”

You glance down at your feet before looking back up to him. “What do you mean?”

“Turn around,” he says.

You quirk your brow at him before he repeats himself. “Turn around and spread your legs. Hips distance apart.”

Fuck, he has no business sounding like that— like bourbon and smoke and iron tang—but you do as he says. You’re shakier than you want to be— you wish you could be cool and collected but you’re not. You’re anything but, and you’re nervous. Maker, Mando makes you nervous— it’s not just the weapon in your hand, it’s him— setting you off and giving you butterflies like you’re some sort of forlorn schoolgirl. You’re a grown woman, and this is what he’s rendered you to— jittery, molten mush. It’s embarrassing. Fucking mortifying.

You guess it’s the day for it.

He doesn’t touch you, but it hardly matters; you can sense him there all the same, a shadow in your peripheral. He leaves a thick breath of space between your bodies and with your back towards him, you can feel the waves of heat radiate off the bounty hunter, pulsing out out out from him and it’s almost intolerable— as if you’ve flown too close to the sun, waxed wings melting in pearled streaks down your spine.

You scuttle your feet open, parting just outside your hips.

“Arms up,” he says, and you hoist them into position. You’re sure you look as awkward as you feel, if not more, all the angles of your body feeling perfectly wrong and misplaced. “Relax your elbows,” he adds, and you do— you try to, at least.

“Too much. Somewhere in between.”

You try again, strengthening through your triceps and down your forearms.

“Better,” Mando gives. You think you feel him nodding approvingly behind you. “The important-”

Kriff, you panic.

You spin towards him, dropping your form and cutting him off with a humbled, worried look, throwing up barricades and hurdles— landmines for him to dodge. Or step on.

“Wait hey Mando, you don’t- I don’t want to take up your time,” you begin.

“You aren’t.”

“I’m serious, I don’t want to bother you with this.”

“You’re not.”

You blink.

“If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do it right.”

He speaks so plainly, unvarnished and matte— unflinchingly earnest in a way that gives you pause. It leaves no wiggle room for interpretation and you sigh, defeated, shoulders slumping as you haul yourself back around.

“Arms up,” he reiterates, but there’s no malice there; he sounds kind— untroubled. It always surprises you how mild he can be— Mando should be anything but, he’d have every reason to, but he’s calm. Patient. You wonder if he even realizes it, if he even recognizes the tenor of his own voice— how gentle it can be— under the helmet. Despite it.

“Think of your posture as firm, without tensing,” Mando explains. “Soften your knees, don’t lock them— same goes for your arms— don’t stiffen against the recoil, let your body absorb it.”

You mirror what he coaches, shooting him a curious, hopeful look over your shoulder.

“There. Good,” he says. “Now, which is your dominant eye?”

Your arms fall down to your sides. “My what?”

“Dominant eye.”

You give him a baffled look like he’s speaking another language - in all fairness, he is - and Mando emits another puff of air through his modulator, chortling.

“Eye dominance. We’re all either right handed or left handed. Eyes work the same— right eyed or left eyed. We favor one or the other— you’ll focus that one to aim.”

Oh, huh.

You still appreciatively, basking in the novelty of the information. “Really? I didn’t know that. That’s- that’s actually pretty interesting,” you muse. “Brains and brawn, huh?” You flash a cheeky grin back at him.

Mando grunts, nondescript and unaffected and robotic but he swears he can feel pink creep over his clavicle, tainting the tan of his skin concealed there.

He fits his gloved hand over yours, if only for a second, and you do your best to ignore the rough patch of his leather grazing against the thin flesh there. You try to ignore the chill that sweeps across the curve of your waist, how the peach fuzz prickles up, electrified and magnetized, as he unfurls your fingers from the gun, letting it slip from your grasp. He tucks it under his arm, keeping it pinned there with his bicep.

“Hold your hands out like this.” Mando shows you, creating an oval with his fingers— like a view finder or a scope. You mimic him, feeling like every bit of an idiot, but you don’t contradict him— you do as he does. “Now, set your focus out on a fixed point through your hands,” he instructs and you do, setting your sights on a gnarled tree branch.

“Got it?” he asks.

“Got it,” you respond.

“Now alternate closing each eye. The image should stay in the frame with one, and then shift out of it with the other.”

You frown, concentrating, and close the right before blinking over to the left— kriff, he’s right.

“Oh shit,” you mumble. “My left. It’s my left eye.”

“You sure?”

You check again, squinting through either eye, the tree bouncing in and out of the frame of your fingers. “Mhm. Yeah, my left eye keeps it centered.”

He makes a thoughtful sound. “Left eyed but right handed. Interesting,” Mando murmurs.

You glance up to him, dropping your hands. “Why is that interesting?”

“Not common. The brain’s typically wired the same way all the way down— one side of the body will be dominant. It’s not usually split.”

“You telling me my brain doesn’t work properly, Mando?” you quip dryly.

“You said it, not me.”

He holds the blaster out to you and you swipe it from him with a huffed snort, returning towards the tree line and stars your face hurts. Your face hurts and it’s burning with this asinine smile that’s digging mercilessly into your cheeks. It makes you want to massage your jaw, get the damn thing to relax. Honestly, it makes you want to give yourself a slap.

“Make sure to cross your center with it. Line it up towards the left.”

“Maker, do you think about all this every time you shoot?” you ask, mystified, as you fix your aim.

“Muscle memory takes over eventually. You’ll get there with enough practice.” Mando replies gruffly and you guffaw, loud and wonderfully ugly. You seriously doubt it.

After a series of very near misses— you are getting closer, you’ll give yourself that— your arms grow tired; the joints and muscles protest as you extend them out from your body, taut and tense— the gun dead weight in your wobbly hands.

Your shoulder smarts where you injured the tendon in the explosion. You roll it out, earning snaps and pops as it notches over the bone there. They told you you were lucky. They congratulated you - it’s not a complete tear! - and it’s on the mend well enough, but it’s weak. It doesn’t matter the weight of the object.

The longer you hold anything, the heavier it feels.

You suppose you could throw in the towel at any point, but the fact of the matter— as terrible and true as it may be— is you want to impress him. That awful, nagging feeling— you want to impress the Mandalorian. You want him proud of you— you want to be nice and shiny for him to admire, like one of the guns he polishes until it’s sparkling, until he can mount it on display and show it off. It’s absolutely nauseating— but you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to, and you don’t. You don’t want to.

He isn’t blind to it. He sees the exertion, the tax— how beads of sweat congress around your temples, dampening the base of your scalp, butterfly kissing your skin with a sheen. A trail of wet salt, one lone pilgrim, ventures down the back of your neck, wandering lower and lower, past the hem of your shirt, disappearing into the soft valley of your spine where Mando can’t follow. His throat bobs rough against his cowl.

Transferring the pistol into one hand, you shake out the other, flexing through it and relaxing your grip.

“Wait,” he says and you cock your head back at him. Mando’s retreating to his pile of guns, rifling through the metal anthill before selecting something sleek and chrome. “Here,” you exchange pistols, giving him back the bulkier of the two. Immediately you feel the relief of this new one— it’s lighter and smaller, slighter in your grasp, too— and you turn it over in your hands, noting the way the nozzlelike barrel glitters in the sun.

You’d almost consider it pretty if it weren’t a literal killing machine.

“That’s a CDEF model. Lightweight, reliable, Dedlanite casing, standard issue for CorSec officers.”

You nod along, as if you have any clue what he’s talking about— you don’t. You really, truly don’t.

“Should be easier.”

“Mm,” you hum out in ignorant agreement, slotting your arms back up into position.

“Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire.” You rest it against the slide of the barrel, hovering nearby.

Mando shifts closer towards you, the grass grinding under his feet as he takes a half step in to your backside.

“Breathe. Don’t hold it in. Let me hear it.”

Fuck, this feels like a sin; this small gap of distance he’s erected between you as tense, as strained and feverish, as whispered confessions in the dark. Like sneaking back into your parent’s house late at night— the morning moon peering down at you with a heavy lidded gaze— knowing, knowing, keeping your secrets to herself, pressing them to her chest, winking sleepily.

It would be so much easier, so much simpler, if he just put his hands on you. Placed your body where he knows it should be, force you into the shapes and positions he’s so intimate with himself, but he doesn’t. He draws it out. He respects your space and autonomy and it makes it worse. Your imagination fills the void separating you two, and it’s running wild and rampant and depraved and—

“Focus,” he utters, his voice no louder than a purr. You’ve never heard something so mechanical make a sound so deliriously smooth, and you have to suppress a nervous scoff. Focus, he says, as if he isn’t suffocating you with how close he’s standing— as if you aren’t enjoying it— as if you aren’t vibrating down to your very bones at the proximity of the bounty hunter—so close, you bet he can hear them, rattling and slapping against each other deep beneath your skin.

“Remember what I said about your posture,” he suggests quiet-like and murmured, without a trace of condescension there—a harmless reminder. You make the adjustment, fixing your shoulders down your back, and release the stress in your arms.

“Firm without tensing,” you respond under your breath—more for your sake than his— striking it from your mental checklist.

“‘Atta girl.”

No.

No no no, Maker, you feel it. You can fucking feel it—how something low and resonant spasms beyond your belly, the clench of your empty cunt at the encouragement—the heady praise of it all.

Atta girl.

He said it softly - rudely husky - just above a whisper, something tailored specifically for you—almost like it slipped from his lips and he didn’t even notice its passing. It meandered out of him, so easy—too easy. It practically sauntered.

You’re trembling— stars, you hope Mando doesn’t see it. It’s humid and muggy and yet you’re shaking as if it’s freezing, as if you’ve got icicled snot dripping from your nose, and your nerves go haywire, fraying in every direction as you sip in a whistled breath.

You can do this. You can do this. Focus.

“Take the shot,” he orders.

Focus.

Pressing into the slope of the trigger, you fire.

You gasp excitedly— a surprised, whooping laugh tearing through you and you whip around, giddy and beaming - bright, beautiful - a lock of hair sticking to your lip. It’s the youngest, the freest, Mando’s ever seen you; maybe the happiest, too, and his stomach twists at the sight, a tourniquet cinching around him, winding and coiling until he’s convinced it’ll burst. His fingers twitch, every instinct begging him— demanding him— to reach out and return the stray strand behind your ear alongside the others but you beat him to it. Deftly, you flit it away yourself instead, and he’s relieved.

Devastated, too. Gutted.

“Did you see that?” you ask, gleeful as a child.

He pries himself off you, dragging his gaze over your shoulder to where you struck the trunk, a coaled mark charred there into the bark, before returning his attention back to you. You meet his eyes, despite the blackness of his helm— you hold them, for a breathless, ageless moment, you hold him there.

“Not bad.”

He can’t muffle the jolt of his heart as it rumbles through his chest, breaking his mouth wide open into an aching smirk. He doesn’t know if you hear it. He fears you might.

He prays you do.

///

“Cooling vents,”

Metal scrapes against the table as you place the delicate bits down, deconstructing the blaster. The Mandalorian nods, silent as a specter.

“Gas refill valve,”

Another clunk.

“Actuating blaster…” You turn over a particularly knobby bulb before peeking up at Mando through your lashes, a wry grin tugging rosy and coy at your lips. “… thing-”

“Module,” Din corrects.

“Module, right, that’s what I said.”

He sits across the galley from you, arms folded over his chest as he eases back against the hull of the ship, overseeing as you take apart the blaster, the slender little thing he gave to you - he rarely uses it anyways - as you name the pieces and parts just like he’s taught you.

“Keep it,” he told you.

You resisted. You fought it, laughed it off incredulously— stubborn to the end— argued you wouldn’t even have a need for it.

“What am I gonna do with a gun, Mando?” you balked, and Maker he’d hoped you’d never have to use it, would never have to see a firefight in your damn life let alone be in the middle of one, but he wants you to have it— have a part of him, strapped to your hip— the closest he’ll get.

He’s selfish. Din is a greedy, selfish man. He wants to see himself on you, wants you to carry him around like a souvenir from something unforgettable— something irreplaceable— a memory like warm bathwater you dip into long after it passes, and he’ll take whatever he can get— just like you, hungry for anything you’re gracious enough to feed him. And fuck, if he doesn’t hate it— doesn’t want to bury that feeling, cold and lifeless, six feet under the earth. No ceremony. No elegies. Dead and gone, returning to the dust from whence it came, crawling back into the ribcage it sprung from.

Din said your name. Firm— gentle, too.

“Keep it.”

They’ve been at this ever since you managed to hit the target that first time. Hours have passed, dawdling by on the fat little legs of a toddler, plodding and slow. The sun had set, and winged bugs the length of your palm had taken up residency in the dark rainforest, making themselves known with a haunting tune, screeching and singing into the lush wood. After the child had tried making a pass at one, no doubt in the mood for a quick snack - isn’t he always - you had agreed to retire back inside the Crest.

You were so excited, your whole face lit up— like fireworks he remembered once, through the eyes of a boy in the summered night— and you wanted more; like a sponge, sopping up all you could, sucking Din in and ringing him out for it and fuck, he couldn’t say no.

He can’t say no to you.

You start prattling out questions about everything and nothing - what blaster do you prefer, do you have a favorite rifle, what’s the difference between plasma and gas charges, you have a flamethrower on your wrist? - and before long you get him lecturing, going on about weapon safety and trigger discipline and slide bites and ammunition rounds and gun brands and serial numbers and Din knows this isn’t you. You’re a borderline pacifist for kriff’s sake— he’s almost certain that if push came to shove, you’d rather lay down your life than take one. You’re no gunslinger, and you don’t hold any aspirations to become one.

But here you are, fist tucked under your chin and leaning in to him, hanging off his every word.

You have no personal interest in weapons. Frankly you’d be pleased if you never held a gun again in your life. No, and whether Mando realizes it or not, you want to know because it’s him. You want to know him. And maybe it’s because its the most he’s given to you since you stepped foot aboard the Razor Crest— almost a month, and what you’ve gotten from him today alone has been more than he’s given in weeks— not a door so much as it is a window into his life, an allowance, a glimpse behind the beskar. Its more attention, more words and insights, more tiny gestures and maybe you’ve been a little starved for it— maybe you’ll eat up any scraps Mando tosses with a calloused glove, molded and rotting, from his plate.

Even if it’s this, even if its fucking firearms.

You want to know.

It’s who you are: it doesn’t matter what someone’s passionate about, you’re interested in their interests. You care what they care about. If they matter, then it matters. It’s who you are, webbed and weaved into the innermost fabric of your being, and you can’t pretend to be anything else; you don’t know how to unbecome.

You’re splayed before him— a bleating heart, kaleidoscoping and blooming and twisting in his hands. If only you could pry open your chest— turn yourself inside out at the seams, spill yourself to splatter, sanguined and slippery right there on the deck. You’d do it, if you could.

Am I loving enough  Am I giving enough  Have I paid my debts  Am I worth this now, finally— Worth that which I offer, have I earned it back

So effortless, this vignette, seated here in his galley, dismembering a blaster and labeling the parts, terminology klutzy on your tongue— tripping over yourself just to get it out— looking to him for hints and clues, fluttering your doe eyes with cartoonish bats.

He answers. You laugh. He smiles.

The kid is in his pram, entranced by all the shiny baubles and bobbins just out of his reach - thank the Maker -  and giggles at their little game— happy, for once, just to watch.

You and me both kid, Din thinks. You and me both.

#king of cups #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female oc #mando x you #mando x reader #mando x female oc #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #star wars #din djarin #din djarin smut #mando smut #star wars fanfic #slow burn #slow build #fic rec #writing #gun kink #angst #mutual pining #soft!din #pedro pascal #the mandalorian x female oc #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #no y/n

[ptergwen]

positions

w/c: 2k

warnings: smut but there’s fluff toooo

a/n: literally based this whole os off positions by ariana bc if y’all didn’t know i love her and the song came out yesterday it’s so so good go stream and YEAH everyone enjoy

-

“it’s been so lovely to meet you, y/n.” nikki gives you a warm smile and reaches over tom to put a hand on your arm. tom squeezes your side from his spot next to you. he’s sitting between the two most important women in his life. leaning into him more, you return the smile.

“you, too. i’m really happy we could do this,” you agree. “tom’s a lucky guy, eh?” she raises an eyebrow. “i am. almost as lucky as dad.” he beams and kisses the side of your head. your nose scrunches up. “oh, you two. do you really have to go so soon?” you look at tom to confirm. “don’t you have a call in the morning?” considering it for a second, he shrugs. “we can stay another hour.”

nikki pats your arm and shifts her gaze to tom. “why don’t you spend the night? you do have a room and wifi here.” now he’s looking at you to see what you think. you smile a little in response. “sure, mum. that would be perfect.” she nods, proud of her idea. “should we make that dessert i was talking about, then?”

tom sits at the kitchen table while you and nikki do the baking. you’re using a cake recipe she got from one of her friends. all three of you figured he’d end up burning it. she tells you stories from when tom was a kid, and he interjects whenever something embarrassing comes up. you can’t help but giggle about the time he fell off the stage during a school play.

“and he was in a tree costume. his head got stuck in the trunk hole,” nikki nudges you, both of you laughing. tom hides his face in his hands. “it was hard! you try dancing in one of those things.” “aw, tom. maybe no one noticed.” you crack an egg into the bowl with a snort. he sighs. “they had to stop the show.”

the cake is in the oven four embarrassing stories later. you were going to help nikki clean up, but she insisted you go relax. she almost had to push you out of the kitchen. the woman is a saint honestly, and now you see where tom gets it from. the two of you are back on the couch while she does the dishes.

“thanks for coming tonight. it means a lot to me.” tom leans his head against yours, which is resting on his shoulder. “and mum.” “of course. i wanted to, you know.” you nuzzle your cheek against him. he lets out a breath and grins. “she really likes you. loves you, even.” a smile pulls at your lips. “really?”

“mhm. she wouldn’t have asked you to stay if she didn’t.” his fingers trace random shapes on your thigh. you hum in content. “we would’ve been kicked out by now.” “it’s technically your house still,” you deadpan, but it’s lighthearted. “mm, but we have ours.” that makes you feel so soft and warm. you’re just so in love with him. he’s even more in love with you.

you tilt your head up to peck tom’s lips. he gives you another kiss back. “i love you.” “i love you, too,” he murmurs. he’s about to go in for a proper kiss when nikki peeks her head out from behind the wall. she looks between you both knowingly. “cake’s done.”

the three of you head back to the kitchen together. tom takes the seat the farthest away from everyone this time. he’s a little embarrassed his mom almost saw that. he looks you up and down when you bend over to take the cake out of the oven. feeling his eyes on you, you glance over your shoulder when you stand up. he licks his lips. you bite back a smile and put the pan down on the counter.

“sorry if i interrupted anything,” nikki jokes and starts to get the cake out of the pan. “no, you didn’t. it’s okay.” you’re still looking at tom. you reach up and get the icing out of one of the cabinets, then a spatula from a holder on the counter. the fact that you already know where everything is makes tom get blushy. a good blushy.

the cake is on the cooling rack, so you open up the icing. nikki moves over to give you more room. “we should add some sprinkles, yeah?” she puts a hand on your shoulder. “tom, what do you think?” you noticed he’s been unusually quiet. he clears his throat. “yeah, sounds good.” “alright, then. let’s see if we have them.” nikki goes back into the cabinet you were in.

you get a generous amount of icing on the spatula, then start spreading it around the cake. it’s chocolate. everyone knows what that does. tom can’t stop thinking about how perfect you are while he watches. with nikki, with him, with all of this. he uses that word a lot. perfect. but, he actually means it now. you’re the human embodiment of it.

you’re almost finished with the icing when nikki puts down two different kinds of sprinkles. she found rainbow and the white ones that look like crystals. you put down the tub of icing with a smile. “i’ve got this, love,” she tells you and nods her head to tom. making eye contact with him, you lick what’s left of the icing off the spatula. his eyes are hooded now. you put the spatula in the sink and sit next to him at the table.

“tease,” he says lowly to you, putting an arm around the back of your chair. “you do it to me all the time.” you shift closer to him. he only shakes his head. nikki brings over the cake and a knife balanced on three plates a few minutes later. “who’s hungry?” “me,” you’re the first to answer. tom laughs and takes the knife to cut the cake. “thanks, mum. and y/n.” you put an arm around his neck. “you’re very welcome.”

everyone stays downstairs for two pieces and some small talk. you decide to put everything away in the morning since it’s getting late and tom has to be up. the two of you say goodnight to nikki, then tom leads you upstairs to his old room.

neither of you have to say anything to know exactly what you want. you press your lips to tom’s the second he closes the door, grabbing at his shoulders. he kisses back while walking backwards to the bed. he sits and pulls down you by your waist. your legs are on either side of him. you pull away to catch your breath, resting your forehead against tom’s.

“you were so good tonight, baby,” tom pants, fingers gripping your sides. you start to undo his shirt button by button with a smirk. “i’m not done yet.” he chuckles into your next kiss, shrugging off his shirt. you toss it on the floor and push at his bare chest so he’s laying down. you’re straddling him now, your tongue running across his lower lip. he unzips the dress you decided to wear while your lips trail off to his neck.

“wanna get this off,” he rasps, sliding the straps down your shoulders. you hum against his skin in response and sit up again. the vibrations make him feel tingly. your dress is thrown across the room shortly after. tom runs a finger down your back, his swollen lips curling into a smile. “love you.” “love you more.” you’re about to show him you mean it.

his hand comes around to your front as you unzip his jeans. he rubs your hip, your thigh, almost right where you need him, then he stops. he’s getting you back for earlier. you let out a breath and roll off of him so he can get out of his jeans. he eyes you and takes his boxers off next to speed up the process.

“c’mere.” you’re quick to get back on top of him. you can feel him through your panties as you straddle him. that only makes you more needy. he pulls your panties to the side and uses his middle finger to circle your clit. it’s good, but it’s not enough. “tom,” you breathe out. “i know, i know.”

he easily tugs your panties down, and you move so you’re lined up with him. you reach down and pump his dick in your hand. he presses a long kiss to your cheek. you can feel his breath fanning across your face. you run his dick through your folds to get both of you ready. biting down on your lip, you put your free hand on his chest.

he lets out a low moan when you start to sink down on him. you let him fill you up, taking your time to get there. more quiet noises escape him when he’s completely inside of you. squeezing your eyes shut, you move on him. you go slow at first, both of you feeling every little movement.

tom’s hands hold your hips to guide you. he brings you back down again. your moan is muffled as you let him move you faster. “shit, baby,” he exhales and pulls you forward. it makes him hit a new spot inside of you. you’re bouncing on him now, grabbing onto his shoulders again for support.

“fuck,” you murmur as quietly as you can so you’re not heard downstairs. tom unclasps your bra while you ride him, trying to distract himself so he doesn’t give you two away. he can’t take it off you because of the position you’re in. he pushes it up instead so your boobs are out of it, both hands cupping them. “closer, darling.”

you lean down more so he can reach you. he massages one and takes the other into his mouth. your head is thrown back while his tongue runs over your nipple. between this and the way he feels inside you, it’s so hard not to scream his name right now.

“tom... tom you’re gonna make me-“ you whimper, gulping before you can finish your sentence. he pulls his mouth off of you with a pop and kisses your lips to shut both of you up. keeping the same pace, you kiss him back. it’s messy and breathless. you’re getting close already. you’d normally go on way longer, but he has that stupid meeting.

it only takes you a few more bounces until you get that familiar feeling in your stomach. tom’s firm grip on your hips steadies you while you come. “doing so good. keep going,” he praises, your orgasm making your walls clench around him. you let out a small moan, tom breathing heavier from the feeling. you’re not moving anymore, but it’s enough to have him coming soon after you.

your head dropping onto his stomach, you climb off of him. tom presses his lips to your hair softly and moves his hands up to your waist. “really like when you’re on top.” his voice is raspy. you’re still trying to catch your breath, but you manage a kiss to his chest. “me too. it’s really... nice.” “nice?” he teases.

“stop, i can’t think right now,” you mumble to him. you’ve rolled over so you’re by his side. you have your head laying on his chest. his curls brush your face when he leans over to peck your lips. “i figured. tonight was a good night, hm?” “mhm. we should do it again.” your fingers ruffle his hair.

“what, the sex? or dessert with my mum?” he cringes at how that comes out. you giggle and twirl a piece of his hair. “both. wow, today was a lot.” tom squishes his cheek into the pillow more. “i could fall asleep like this.” “nope, you have to get ready for bed. your call is soon.” you poke at his chest and move over so you’re not on him anymore. he sits himself up with a chuckle.

“you switch up fast.”

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #peter parker smut

[howlingday]

Jaune: (Walking through the forest with Yang, Looks at a wanted poster on a tree) Hey, Yang, who's that? She kind of looks like you.

Yang: That's Raven Branwen, the supposed "Bandit Queen" around here. Don't bother getting involved with her. She'd just make you look stupid. (Sighs, Looks away) It wouldn't be the first time.

Jaune: ...Right. (Touches her hand) Yang, you know I love you, right?

Yang: ...Yeah, I know. (Holds his hand, Doesn't look at him) Even if you don't deserve someone like me.

Jaune: (Pulls his hand away) What do you mean? Are you saying I'm not good enough for you?

Yang: (Looks at him) What?! No! I know we've only been dating for a few months, but it's not like that! If anything, it's the other way around!

Jaune: (Angry) So you're saying you're too good for me now?!

Yang: No! Argh! You are so annoying right now! What I meant was- (A loud thud is heard nearby, Gunfire explodes in the distance) What was that?

From the treeline, a band of armed thugs barrel out waving their weapons around, hooting and hollering, roaring and barking as they circle the couple. A tree falls, it's trunk sliced clean as a woman with black hair and red eyes walks forward. She sheathes her sword as she sways her hips. She looks exactly like the woman in the wanted poster, becauseshe is the woman from the wanted poster; Raven Branwen.

Raven: Don't waste your breath with her. (Stops in front of the couple) She never understood true power, even when it stared her in the face.

Jaune: Wait, you're-

Raven: Raven Branwen, Bandit Queen. (Bandits roar and cheer until they're silenced by Raven's extended hand, She leans forward into Jaune's face) And you are just my type.

Jaune: (Blushing) Uh, you look just like my girlfriend.

Raven: Well, she is my daughter.

Yang: Stop leering at her, you perv! And you, I thought you didn't want anything to do with me!

Raven: I didn't, but when Tai told me about this boy you're dating, I had to see for myself. He reminds me a lot of him. (Licks her lips) I bet he tastes the same, too. Shay! Vernal!

Shay & Vernal: Yes, ma'am!

Raven: Make sure she doesn't interfere. I want to play with my food right now

Shay & Vernal: Yes, ma'am!

Raven: What's your name, handsome?

Jaune: Uh, Jaune. Jaune Arc.

Raven: Mm, short, sweet, and rolls off the tongue. I bet the ladies love it.

Jaune: Uh...

Raven: If you didn't hear, I'm Raven Branwen. But, the only thing you'll call me from now on is either ma'am or mommy.

Jaune: (Chuckling) That's funny. I like you, Ms. Branwen!

Yang: (Thinking) What is she doing?! Is she... trying to steal Jaune?! (Shakes her head) Whatever! Jaune loves me! He won't surrender to her! ...But we did have that fight just now. He might actually leave me for her. ...No! I just have to put my faith in Jaune! I know he'll stay with me!

Raven: Now, Jaune, what say we have some fun?

Raven unsheathes Omen, taking a combative stance in front of Jaune, who, in turn, unsheathes Crocea Mors. Raven swings at Jaune, holding back her strength as she tests Jaune's skill. Soon, Jaune is beading with sweat as Raven lazily parries and swings at him. Jaune slips into her guard, forcing her to jump back. She chuckles as she watches him pant.

Raven: Not bad, boy. Not bad at all.

Jaune: This... This is too much! I can see why you're the Bandit Queen now.

Raven: What are you staring so hard at me for, boy? You want me? Here, (Takes off her armor, Her perfect-fit clothing underneath leaves nothing to the imagination) have a closer look.

Jaune: (Stammers, Looks to Yang)

Yang: Stop showing off like that, Mom! Why couldn't you just stay out of my love life like dad? In fact, why don't you just stay out of my life?!

Shay: Hey, kid, settle down!

Vernal: Queen Raven ordered us to keep you in place, so that's what we're going to do.

Yang: And having your goons keep me from kicking your butt?! You're the worst!

Raven: Your boyfriend doesn't seem to think that. Just look at how he's panting just from being near me. (Jaune gulps) Tell me, Jaune. What do you like most about me? Is it my lovely hair? My intoxicating scent? Or is something else catching your eyes?

Jaune: C-Can we go back to fighting, please?!

Yang: Why are you dodging the question, you creep?! (Thinking) I'm losing him. It's subtle, but... There's no doubt about it. It can't end like this. Not after everything we've been through!

Raven: Remember this, Jaune; there's a difference between a girl and a woman. Allow me to show you the difference.

Raven swings with more intent this time, forcing Jaune to block and dodge with more caution, as she now kicks at any opening she finds. Jaune slips into her guard again, forcing the two to lock blades. However, Raven takes advantage of this to blow a kiss at Jaune, who flinches and jumps away. Raven follows up with thrust, parry, and slice combination. Jaune noticed Raven switched to a two-handed style, and decided to respond in kind. The battle became more even as Raven began sweating from the effort she was putting in. Jaune leaped away, panting, and stuck his sword into the dirt.

Jaune: Okay, I'm done! I've had enough, Ms. Branwen!

Raven: Aw, what's the matter, baby. Are you losing focus from watching me move so gracefully? I'll bet you have so many nasty thoughts running through your head right now. (Rips open her shirt a little, revealing her cleavage) You want me so bad, don't you?

Yang: (Tears streaming from her eyes, Thinking) That's it. I've lost him. There's no way he doesn't want her after that. It's how she tricked Dad into loving her. (Crying) But, he can't just leave me for her! She just wants to use him as a plaything. If he left me, I at least want to be sure he'll be safe from any harm, but she... It's all my fault. All because of that stupid argument, he's going to leave me all alone!

Jaune: Ugh! Just shut the fuck up already!

Yang: Huh? (Realizes Jaune's holding her)

Raven: Excuse me?!

Jaune: I'm sick of hearing you talk! You're fucking weird, the way you talk to me makes me feel like a baby, and the fact you're putting down your own daughter just to impress a stranger like me, (Glares at Raven, Grinds his teeth) it makes me so fucking furious, I can't stand it! How could you say such foul shit about your daughter?! (Takes a deep breath, Holds Yang close) I love your daughter. I only love your daughter. I mean, yeah, you're attractive, with your nice-smelling hair and your curves and your swordplay, but that doesn't matter. But I wouldn't even be fawning over you if I knew how horrible you really were! (Feels Yang hugging him, Sighs) I'm sorry, baby. I just... I just got so upset when you said I wasn't good enough for you.

Yang: (Sniffs) I wasn't talking about you not being good enough; I was talking about me not being good enough for you. I got so worried that you'd abandon me, I couldn't bear it. I'm sorry it came out wrong to you. I just think you're so amazing, okay? You always rise up against any challenge, even when you know the odds aren't in your favor. You fought bullies, Grimm, my dad, and even the White Fang! You have so much confidence, I can't imagine why you would think you're not good enough! (Sobs) I love you, Jaune! I feel like if you left me, I would literally die!

Jaune: (Shushes her, Pets her hair) I love you, too, and I know what you mean. I feel like... It's like our souls are connected, you know? (Chuckles, Tear rolls down his eye) I'm sorry I'm so corny, and for our fight earlier.

Yang: (Chuckles) It's okay. I like us being corny, and I love that you can be so honest with me.

Jaune: (Chuckles, Kisses the top of her head) I'm so lucky I have you.

Raven: (Holding herself, Panting and squirming) Oh, this feeling~.

Jaune: (Looks up) Huh? (Looks over, Sees Raven half-naked and steaming with a dangerous aura) Uh...

Raven: Oh, Tai hasn't made me feel like this in such a long time~.

Yang: (Gulps) Raven?

Raven: But you, Jaune, (Lewd and wide smile, Sultrily chuckles) you're a whole different breed~! (Points Omen at him, Drooling) You're a man who knows how to put a bitch like me in her place and shows love to his girl after some tramp disses her! (She looks down, Hiding her face) It might be the bare minimum, but... (Looks up, Hungry eyes) I just have to have you! Now pick up the sword and listen carefully, because if you lose this fight, I'm going to make you my new slave! (Chuckles) Who knows? Maybe in a few years, you'll make for a fine bandit.

Shay: Wait, we used to be something before being bandits?

Raven: You can't refuse this, handsome, otherwise I'll kill Yang and give you no choice.

Jaune: Shit. Yang, this doesn't look good.

Yang: Hey, now, that's not the Jaune Arc I love! (Hands him Crocea Mors, Kisses his cheek) Kick her ass for me, okay, baby?

Jaune: (Takes Crocea Mors, Smiles) You got it, baby!

Vernal: Listen up, everyone! Our queen is about to go all out! The odds of her leaving us alive grow slimmer by the second! Know that all of you have been like family to me!

Shay: Even me?

Vernal: Shut up, Shay.

Raven: By the way, handsome, I don't want this to be over too soon, so keep that sword of yours in it's longsword form to keep it interesting. Because this shit's finna get nutty!

Raven wastes no time attacking Jaune, forcing him to block. He's pushed back several feet before side-stepping away. Raven continues until a red portal opens in her path, and she disappears into it. Jaune loses sight of her and barely has enough time to duck as she flies in from behind to strike. He rolls away, but Raven charges again, striking wildly with swings and thrusts. Jaune's muscles ache as he's forced to block and parry. Raven runs towards him again, disappearing into another portal. He looks behind, but doesn't see her. Yang warns him of the strike from above, and he leaps away in time. He notices a golden necklace on the ground, recognizing it from one of the bandits. Unfortunately, Raven was relentless as she continued her assault, and Jaune couldn't afford to stop and think. He decided to go on the offensive this time, clashing with her. When she was pushed back, he charged forward, but ran into her portal, and right into Vernal. The bandit lieutenant jumped away as Jaune thrusted, and he apologized as he she did. He turned in time to catch Raven's blade, but she disappeared as she retreated, using her portal repeatedly to confuse him. Jaune dropped his sword and stepped forward to the golden necklace. He tossed it into the air, forcing Raven to dive to him with her blade extended. She cackled with mad glee as she forced him to fall backwards, only to reel in pain when he kicked her in the face and away from Omen. Raven sprawled and climbed to her knees, looking at Jaune from the wrong end of her weapon.

Raven: (Panting) Jaune... That was... amazing... I feel so... exhilarated... You sapped me of all my juices. Or, well, at least half of my aura, anyways. I know you won, but couldn't you please reconsider and join my family?

Jaune: I don't want you! Damn! (Throws Omen aside) I'm with your daughter because I love her! I love her hair! I love her smell! I love her curves!

Raven: W-What are you saying?!

Jaune: I'm saying I love big-tittied bitches! Mostly your daughter, but the others are cool, too, I guess!

Yang: (Snickers, Covers her mouth)

Jaune: Also, you just let "your family" almost die in our fight! Who the hell does that?!

Raven: (Scoffs) The family knows the tribe is nothing without their queen. If they were worthy, they would be willing to die for me. (Stands up, Shakes her head) Such a sentimental fool. No wonder you're together. (Picks up Omen, Walks away with her tribe) You can have him, Yang.

Yang: ...Thank you, Raven.

Jaune: Wait, that's it?

Raven: Yeah, I don't need any bleeding hearts in my tribe. But you have my blessing, whatever that might mean to you. (Thinking) Fuck, now I'm thinking about him again. I should go chat with him. It has been a few months since our last "reunion."

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #raven branwen #shay d man #vernal #friday night funkin #mommy mearest hd #dragonslayer #tairaven

[drabblingdraco]

✬Arranged✬ Draco Malfoy X Reader (Request)

This is a request I received!

"Hello! I would love if you wrote something around reader and draco being forced into an arranged marriage by their parents. They hate each other at first because draco used to bully/insult her in school, they're constantly at each other's thoughts at first but then they begin to not mind each other's company... idk if that makes sense feel free to ask any questions. if you don't mind writing it I would love you see your take on it ❤️ oh and maybe the reader would fit the whole pureblood Slytherin comes from a wealthy family thing too. Something like that..."

I’ve read various imagines with a similar plot, but here’s my take on it! If you’d like a Part 2, let me know! I love this story line

Warning: swearing, slightly mean/bully Draco

Very long like 2k oops

Draco's POV:

I was awoken by the sound of Father walking in to my bedroom. He told me I needed to get up and ready for the day, as the (y/l/n)'s were coming. I ran my fingers through my hair, stressing over the fact I had to see (y/n) again. I couldn't stand being in the same room as her. She made me feel emotions I refused to let out. Although we were arranged to be married, I would never let her in my head. She wasn't getting anywhere near my vulnerability. I looked up at Father as he walked towards my bed, grabbing my chin.

"Son, you know how important this is. She's one of the only good pure bloods your age. Not to mention her great, great grandfather was the founder of Slytherin house. Don't fuck this up, Draco." He spat his last sentence before exiting.

I sighed, getting out of bed. My warm feet adjusted to the cold temperature of the wood floor. I went into my closet and picked out my usual attire: an emerald button up, black slacks and black laced dress shoes. I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I combed my hair back to a suitable placement. After spritzing some cologne on my neck, I saw a silver town car pull up outside the window.

(y/n)'s POV:

As the car came to a stop, I sighed while slouching in my seat. I could see Draco peering out the window pane. I wasn't looking forward to spending another day at the Malfoy's, yet again. I've been coming to the Manor my whole life. I knew the Malfoy's like the back of my hand, except Draco. He repeatedly threw his aggression towards me. Every time we spoke, one of my flaws came up in conversation. He always pointed out the (y/birthmark) on my (y/body part).

"Out the car now darling, time to see your fiancé."

"Mother please stop calling him that."

"Why? He is your betrothed after all." She grinned.

I rolled my eyes. After all these years, I still can't imagine being married to that foul mouth. I wanted to marry someone I loved, like my parents. But all they cared about was the Malfoy’s and keeping their great image in the wizarding world.

I stepped out of the car and mother shouted at me from the other side. "Go ahead inside love, I'll meet you in there." She had a slight smirk across her lips. I was suspicious, but not enough to ask questions.

I make my way up the grand stairs, Narcissa waited for me in the doorway.

"Hello dear! Delighted to see you again." She gave me a hug and a peck on the head.

"Draco will be down in just a minute- DRACO!" She smiled. I internally groaned.

A figure came walking down the spiral staircase. His hair was placed just right, making his piercing grey eyes stand out. His sleeves were cuffed right above his wrists, the green really accentuated his skin tone. I quickly shook myself out of admiration coma.

"Draco." I said with a straight face.

"(y/n).." he replied.

"Draco, why don't you take her to the gardens while your father gets her trunks?"

"Trunks? What do you mean?"

Narcissa looked confuzzled. "Oh dear, don't know you? You're staying at the manor for a short while."

My eyes went wide, "What?"

"WHAT?!" Draco grasped the railing of the stairs, the veins on his hand popping out as he strained against the wood.

"Draco! Behave yourself," Narcissa gritted through her teeth, she turned to me smiling.

"I don't have any clothes," I stammered, trying to make up excuses to avoid my dreadful stay.

"Yes you do!" Mother said, walking through the door.

I turned to face her with stink eyes, "is there a reason you didn't tell me I had to stay here with this twat?!" I motioned to Draco.

"And you didn't tell me this bloody-" Draco shouted at Narcissa, but she quickly stopped him.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

There was a brief, awkward moment of silence between the four of us. 

"My love, it's time you got a taste of the married life," she grasped my shoulder shaking me subtly. "After all, you are older now and soon enough, you'll officially be husband and wife."

"But mother! I-"

"No buts! Now I really must be going. I have to meet your father at the council meeting, but enjoy yourself! I packed you enough clothes for a few weeks, so you're all set dear." She kissed me on the cheek as I stood there, dumbfounded.

"Goodbye darling!" She shouted as Lucious shut the door behind her, exiting the manor.

I turned around to face the two Malfoys that stood before me. How could she just dump me here? And for weeks?  It's bad enough she married me off before I could even breathe. There's no way I would be able to last that long here with Draco. I look at both him and Narcissa, he looked enraged and I couldn't blame him.

"Now take a walk in the gardens, get some fresh air." She stated as a command rather than a question.

We both looked at each other with disgust, but we followed her wishes and headed towards the courtyard. We walked in silence for quite awhile. It was a cumbersome stroll, he wouldn't look me in the eyes or even my direction. I shouldn't be surprised, he was always like this, but something was different. He seemed tense, like he was holding something back. I tried to enjoy myself as if he wasn't there, admiring the lilies and pansies scattered perfectly symmetrical. Unfortunately my eyes kept falling back on him. His tapered slacks rested right above his matte dress shoes. The way his shirt grasped his frame. I felt a chill going down my spine. I adjusted my cardigan, wrapping it tightly around my chest. For some reason this got his attention and he whipped his view towards me.

"Don't tell me you're cold?" He scoffed, scrunching his nose.

"Is there a problem with feeling normal human reactions?" I spat.

He laughed, "just find it rather odd you'd wear such a short skirt on a day like this."

I shook my head in anger. It was typical he pointed out something to do with my attire. "It's summer Malfoy..what, would you rather I wear jeans and sweat like a pig?" Looking me up and down, his eyes lingering at the hem of my skirt.

He ignored my words and continued to walk faster, heading back to the manor. I scoffed and continued at my pace, in no rush to go back inside with that jackoff.

I closed the door to the courtyard and locked it. My eyes traveled around the room, I remembered memories from my childhood, when Draco was actually pleasant towards me and didn't act like a dick. We used to play with fake wands and babble made up spells to each other. I snapped out of my thoughts when I saw Narcissa approaching.

"Why don't you come have some tea? I just brewed a pot." I nodded and followed her to the dining room.

I sat down in one of the many chairs seated at the table. A minute later she came back with a kettle and two dark green teacups with silver snakes on them. Typical Slytherins, but I was one to talk. We chatted a bit about how I've been since we last saw one another, even though it was only a mere three weeks ago. Then we diverted to the subject of Hogwarts. She went on about Dumbledore and how Lucious couldn't stand him. At this point, who didn't know about his vendetta against him.

After a few hours of conversing, she said she was tired and was heading to bed.

"You'll stay in Draco's room this evening."

"Um, are you sure? Can't I stay in the guest room?"

"Oh..the guest room is being..remodeled at the moment. Draco knows of the arrangements. I assure you dear, don't worry about about a thing. Sweet dreams." And with that, she left me standing in the dining room.

I clenched my fist together, wanting nothing more than to obliviate myself and forget everything that was happening, but alas, I couldn't go through with it. Like the kind, forced houseguest I was, I took the teacups and kettle back into the kitchen to be cleaned when I ran into Dobby.

"Hello Dobby how are you?"

"Hello Miss (y/n), you're always so worried about Dobby, it warms my heart. Dobby's keeping his feet on the ground. Dobby keeps hearing things from Mr. Draco about you."

"I'm sorry but I thought I just heard you saying Draco's been talking about me.."

"Oh dear, Dobby has said too much! Bad Dobby." He reached for the teacup but I stopped him before he could.

"Don't hurt yourself, it'll only make me sad, and I know you hate to see me that way." I bat my lashes.

"Sorry Miss (y/n)..since I've already said too much...Mr. Draco talks about you nicely. He likes your (y/h/c) hair and the way your nose scrunches when you're laughing. Dobby hears him talk to Mr. Crabbe and Goyle about these things and much more.." He shyly looks away, looking up the stairs towards Draco's room.

"Hey, hey, I won't tell him. (y/n) keeps secrets Dobby tells her." I smiled at him.

"Thank you Miss, Dobby likes you much more than his masters."

"I like you more than them too." I gave him a peck on the head and went up the staircase.

I trailed down the hall towards his room. The halls were dimly lit by small candles on the walls, as well as moving paintings on the walls of their family tree. I arrived outside his bedroom, scared out of my mind to knock, but I brought myself to do so. Shortly after knocking, he opened the door to his bedroom. I stood there admiring his night clothes; a fitted white v-neck tee shirt and boxer shorts.

"Are you just going to stand there like a git and gawk or come in?" He smirked.

"I- Uh- Coming in." I slipped past him and stood there, unsure of my next move.

"It's getting late," he shut the door behind him. "You should put on some more comfortable clothing to sleep in."

"Right..oh, my trunk is downstairs. I should go get-"

"It's right here," he pointed towards it. "I brought it up a little bit ago. Didn't want to risk you breaking a nail, I'd never hear the end of it."

I scoffed, walking towards my case. I unbuckled the clasps and opened it to find clothing that didn't belong to me, or so I thought."

I've bought you some more appropriate dressings for your stay with Draco. Enjoy them, I know he will too.

-Mother

I was taken aback by her note. It's like she's asking me to fuck him, and we're not even married yet. She's already desperate for grandchildren, I thought to myself. I rummaged through my new wardrobe and ogled in shock. Lingerie, bodycon dresses, even shorter skirts. Are mothers supposed to be like this?

I picked the least revealing item I could find to sleep in. It was a silk green nightgown with lace detailing on the chest, lingering a little too low on the chest for my liking..but it was the only thing that didn't expose my entire body. I grabbed my toiletry bag and my feet brought me to the bathroom. I peeled off my current attire and put on a new set of panties along with my nightgown. I brushed my hair up in a ponytail and brushed my teeth. Gathering my belongings, I slowly walked out of the bathroom and locked eyes with Draco. Now he was the one gawking at me.

"I know I'm always being a dick but..you look dashing (y/n), really." He said shyly, looking down at his feet as he sat on the bed.

"Thanks..." I wasn't sure how to respond.

I put my dirty clothes and bag on top of my trunk. I scratched the side of my arm in nervousness, not knowing how the sleeping arrangements were going to work, although I had an idea. There was nothing else to sleep on besides Draco's bed. He stared at me with anticipation as if he was waiting for me to join him.

I proceeded to the opposite side of the bed. I peeled back the sheets on my side, snaking my legs underneath. Draco still sat in his place, shifting a bit, but stayed in his current position. I laid down, facing his direction, closing my eyes. Maybe if I kept them closed long enough, I'd eventually fall into a deep slumber without any further conversing with Draco.

I felt the sheets ruffle as he too laid down, I couldn't tell if he was facing my direction or not, but I ignored it. I adjusted my pillow to a more comfortable position. We both laid there, within the same vicinity, completely silent. After a few moments, I peaked my eyes open ever so slightly to find a pair of silver eyes looking deep into my soul. I shuttered, unaware of the fact he was staring at me. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Couldn't help myself."

"Couldn't help what?" I asked in confusion.

"Having the pleasure of looking at you," he licked his lips.

"I don't think I understand.."

"My god (y/n)...I never took you for dumb."

I raised an eyebrow, "how am I dumb?"

"Because you can't see it," he paused. "You can't see how madly I'm in love with you...and you can't tell me you don't feel the same." He reached for me chin, grasping it ever so slightly.

I didn't dislike his touch. His hands were ice, melting on my warm skin. His thumb caressed my jaw, heading towards my lips.

"I- I will admit..I do have f-feelings for you, I've been suppressing them..but you make it very convincing that you have a..distaste for me. Ever since we were young.."

"I don't think you understand the common thing about us males...we tease the ones we love," he chuckled.

Not knowing what the hell came over me, I forcibly grabbed his face and slammed my hungry lips onto his.

Taglist: @bbeauttyybbx 

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #imagine #fanfiction #dracomalfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #reader #draco x reader #draco x your name #draco x female reader #slytherin #slytherin pureblood #pureblood #slytherin house #hogwarts #wizard #wizards #witches #witch #story line #romance

[kpop---writings]

3 AM

Requested by Anonymous

Like clock work, your phone starts ringing at 3:01 AM. Seeing his name on the screen doesn’t phase you at all, you simply swipe to answer.

“My place or yours, baby?”

You hear his deep chuckle, “Well I was thinking you come meet in my car and we drive somewhere.”

“Sounds good!”

“Be there in 20,” he hangs up.

You had just stepped out the shower when Minsik called, you already knew he’d be calling tonight. It’s Friday night-or Saturday morning, however you want to look at it. This was very usual for you two though. Ever since the one night stand months ago, he would call every so often for a nice fuck with no attachments.

You put on some moisturizer, flower scented of course, his favorite. You make sure to put one of the sets of lingerie that he specifically bought for you to wear during these rendezvous. And you always wear a dress or skirt of some sort for easiest access possible. You touch up the deep red nail polish on your toes and fingers. By the time you’re spraying on the last bit of perfume, your phone chirps letting you know he’s outside. 

Once in the car, you look over at him because he’s just incredibly sexy. He’s wearing a button up shirt, only buttoned half-way exposing his broad chest. A chain hanging around his neck, laying on his collarbones. His dark, ripped jeans hugging his thighs just right. You finally look up at his beautifully structured face and speak.

“So where are we going tonight?”

You watch a smile takeover his face, “Our spot.”

You face the front again with a smile. Your guys’ spot was a deep drive into a wooded area away from the city. That meant you were fucking outside. He must’ve had a rough week, he only takes you there so he can fuck you however he wishes. You always happily oblige. You couldn’t wait.

---

As he finally brings the car to a stop he lays his head back for a second and lets out a long breath. You release your seatbelt and lean over to kiss up and down his neck.

“Has it been a rough week, baby?” You ask in a sultry voice.

He moans and grabs your neck gently as you continue giving him slow, soft kisses. “You have no idea.”

You lean back and pull down your dress and exposed your lingerie clad breast. “Do you want to blow off some steam, Minsik?” You run a finger gently up and down your chest.

You watch his eyes glaze over with lust and he reaches out and grabs your left breast roughly before groaning.

“Get out,” He’s opening his door before he’s finished the phrase. 

You quickly open your door and push your dress the rest of the way down once you’re out so that you’re now in just your bra and panties.

You see him standing by the trunk of the car leaning on it and waiting for you.

You slowly walk over to him, letting him look over your whole body. When you finally reach him, you began to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt. He watches you go down on your knees on the soft grass in front of him. You undo his jeans and pull them and his underwear to his knees. 

You spit in your hand and wrap it around his dick and jerk him at a constant pace and look him in his eyes. Minsik looks so good right now. His eyes looking down at you still glazed over with lust and the moonlight shining on him with trees all around. 

You finally take him in your mouth and continue looking into his eyes until he closes them and leans his head back in pleasure. You can hear his breathing pick up with a moan every now and then. You bob your head on his dick, you close your eyes to really give it your all. As you’re sucking you make sure your tongue is licking all over too. You raise his dick so you can get access to his balls. You sucked on his balls and that causes his knees to buckle for a second and he moans out loud as he grabs the back of your head and pulls you closer. 

You go back up to his dick and spit on it before putting him in your mouth once more. All you can hear is the sounds of your saliva as you bob your head on his dick, Minsik’s beautiful moans, and the faint sounds of crickets in the woods.  You start going faster and massage his balls, sucking hard enough that your cheeks began to go in. He starts breathing faster and faster until he pulls you off of him.

“Babygirl. I want to cum in you, you know that,” he says, still panting.

You wipe your mouth as you stand on your feet again. “Well what are you waiting for, baby?” You bring his hand to your mound and grind against it.

He flips you around and bends you over the trunk of the car. He pulls your panties down until they’re wrapped around your ankles. You feel his hand rub up and down your wet slit. 

“Damn babygirl, sucking me off gets you that wet?” He brings his finger to his mouth and sucks on it.

“Minsik, baby, you make me wet. All. the. time.”

He smacks your ass before wiping some of you arousal around his dick.

You feel him slide his dick in you, the stretch feels good every single time. He starts thrusting into you, his grip on your hips getting tighter and tighter with each thrust.  From the back always feels phenomenal. If you get fucked in this position every time you definitely would. He reaches his hand around you to grip your breast and leans into your ear and lick the shell of it.

He whispers in your ear, “You love when I fuck you like this don’t you? You can’t wait for my call. You’re such a little slut for me, always ready to get fucked.”

You moan out when his hand moves down to rub at your clit. 

“I love getting fucked by you, no one can fuck me like you can, Minsik,” you moan.

He starts going faster and wets his fingertips with his saliva before putting back on your clit.

His breathing begins to pick up and he leans his head back.

“Ahhh shit, babygirl, I’m going to cum, fuck.”

You start bouncing back into each thrust and he lets out on final grunt followed by a long moan. He stills inside you and you can feel the spurts of cum shooting into you. His hips twitching every few seconds.

Once he finally calms down, he leans back into your ear, “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about you.”

He licks up the side of your neck and starts the circular motion on you clit again. You instinctively close your legs around his hand.

“Tsk tsk tsk, babygirl. How are you going to cum if I can’t move my hand?”

You let out a shaky breath and try to keep your legs open while he keeps going. Oh, this feels so good. His hands always feel so nice on you. He has moved his other hand from your hip to your breast. He continues to kiss down your neck and sucking at where your neck meets your shoulder.

His kisses and sucking are sending tingles down your spine. His fingers are causing a heat in the pit of your stomach. You focus on both of those feelings and you feel you body tensing. You start grinding down against his hand and his tongue continues to work wonders on your neck and feel yourself cumming. 

Your whole body tenses even more before finally releasing everything you felt building up. You look up at the moon and the stars and it seems to intensify the orgasm. 

Minsik’s motions become softer as he helps you ride out your orgasm.

---

You and Minsik normally clean up and leave once your done, but something was different today. After cleaning up he put a blanket on the hood of his car and you two cuddled and watched the sun come up.

You didn’t know it, but Minsik desperately wanted more with you.

#Khiphop #khh #khh scenarios #khh smut #khh fanfic #sikk #sik-k #h1gher music #kpop #kpop smut #kwon minsik

[binniesthighs]

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: ahhhhh holy holy heck this chapter is SO DAMN EXCITING hehehe I had sosososo much writing and doing all the research!! please let me know if there is anything factual/cultural that I need to fix! I tried the best I could although I most def am not an expert in Egyptian culture so I appreciate it a lot :) hehe i hope ya have fun reading this chapter teehee oh! also I love hearing what you thought of it too! :D 

Four 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, collegestudent!seungmin, royal!minho, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, several mentions of food and alcohol as well as getting tipsy/drunk that good, good making out, suggestive themes

CWs: mentions of guns, mentions of knives, themes of jealousy (expressed by the reader) 

Word count: 7.5k

Parts 

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE 

“Well, we’re in Cairo alright.” 

Two tugged the amazed young stow-away-student, Seungmin, by the hand of his backpack to keep him from running into one of the palm tree planters decorating the terminal. The young man had nearly slept the whole flight due to the length as well as the exasperation that he had just been through. While his eyes were still darkened from his nap, his glossy pupils still wondered all around him. 

“I take it back. I’m so glad that I almost died so I could end up here with you guys.” 

Jeongin slapped him from the backside of his head. “Never be thankful for almost dying. Life is a lot more fucking fragile than you think. This isn’t just some joyride--” 

“--Ease up F.” You interrupted your partner as you shouldered your bag. The kid had already been through enough already: he didn’t need accosting on top of it all. 

The dashing prince sighed out and stretched his arms. “Ahhhh Cairo. It’s been a while; too long actually.” 

The airport was humid: the kind of sticky warmth that dripped down your neck in a matter of seconds to then get caught above your lip. It wasn’t much help to the anxiety that already had seeped into your veins. The closer you got to a gun the more comfortable you would be. You and the other two guards created a formation around the prince with two in the front and the other in the flank. While each of you were dressed in regular street clothes, your responsibility of his detail still hung over your head with a severe air. 

Chan threw his arm over the young student with an obscene grin. His hair had become a little disheveled from the plane seat and his hoodie, but he didn’t appear to mind. Seeing him so normal was somewhat of an odd change to your previous unbreakable impression of him. 

“Seungmin my friend, you’ve never lived until you’ve been to Cairo. I’ve never seen another place so enriched in history in my whole life...it puts my kingdom to shame. It’s almost like...you can just feel the time here: hundreds of thousands of years...beauty, art, food, industry...I’ve got a thing or two to learn.” 

Seungmin nodded at the prince’s grandiose gestures in the terminal with an enamored smile. “I can’t wait to see it!” 

Your partner put a firm hand on the prince’s back to guide him to the baggage claim. “We won’t be here for long, so, don’t get too excited. We’ve come here for one reason and we shouldn’t dally otherwise.” 

The young boy appeared to frown, and Two bit his lip with a little chuckle. “Way to crush the kids dreams F.” 

“You know the mission, J.” Jeongin gritted his teeth with the words. “Everything is set, there will be a car waiting for us in the garage, and at the hotel we’ll have anything we need.” 

Prince Chan lulled his head back with heels clicking on the flooring. Rogue strands of his hair hung over his sunglasses where he threw a look back at you while pulling them down. 

“Don’t forget our little deal Bee? We’ll have time for a little pleasure.” 

The white haired agent rolled his eyes with gusto then adjusted the royal’s glasses over his face. “We’ve still got to be careful, you Highness. We never know where they could have eyes.” 

“I know where I’ve got mine...” He turned back once more to throw his cockiness in your general direction. 

“Listen to F, your Highness...if you want to live.” 

“Oooo. Feisty as ever, Bee. I love it when you bite back.” Chan turned to his new pet, Seungmin, “She’s really something isn’t she?”

The young man nodded, but not necessarily because he agreed, but it just seemed like it better to agree with a prince than to disagree with him. 

The air appeared to turn even thicker in the summery and arid city and your group approached the parking lot half shaded. Outside of the cement lot, iridescent waves of heat wiggled on the horizon, and further, the astonishing urban sprawl of Cairo, and just over it, the stretch of the Nile and Giza. Palms and other varieties of plants spotted the landscape and above it all, a perfectly crystal blue sky streaked with thin clouds. Had the circumstances been different, you really would have wished to have been there for pleasure. 

“This one. Right here.” Jeongin announced upon spotting the black armored sedan. It wasn’t the most inconspicuous vehicle, but you were prioritizing safety over aesthetics. Your partner touched his index fingerprint to the car door’s invisible panel, and it flashed blue just as the lock had at the safehouse with the ticking clock insignia. 

Two whipped his head around to make one last check of the surroundings before taking off his sunglasses and reddened eye. “Get in. Both of you.” He urged the prince and the student. He popped the drivers side open to find a different pair of glasses in the storage compartment: gold framed aviators. 

“Huh,” He said happily while putting them on. “This is more my style.” He rummaged around a bit more to find a new pair of black framed glasses there too. “Fox! Think fast!” He threw them over to your partner who sighed out with relief. 

“Thank god.” 

The trunk opened with a mechanical sounding creek, and you lifted up the trunk bed to find your whole arsenal: Heckler & Koch MP5′s submachines, Remington 870 shotguns, and Glocks complete with thigh holsters. Among the pile of metal, various knives and other weapons were held in foam holders. 

“They’ve got knives back there?” Two asked while pulling the rearview mirror to see. 

“Oh yeah. What? You more of a knife guy?” You teased while looping your thigh holster over your cargo pants. It fit just right. 

The illusive man popped his gum with a shiny smile. “‘Don’t ever have to reload them...that’s what I’m saying.” 

“Thank you Carroll.” Jeongin sighed upon seeing the thick laptop among the weapons. “Finally I can do some real work. That kid’s damn Chromebook was killing me. I nearly short circuited it trying to connect to our network.” 

“You what?!” Seungmin was suddenly much more interested. 

“Dont worry yourself too much, its still fine.” 

“Are there cameras in here?” You quickly asked your partner. 

“Agency should’ve fried them a long time ago. Why?” 

From the trunk bed you sized up the Glock to feel its weight and how cool it settled into your sweating hand. You unloaded the magazine to see that it had already been filled. 

“Carroll. She really is too kind to us.” You slid the magazine back in then, pulled back the slider to lock it once more, catching Chan’s adoring glance. 

“Something interesting pretty boy?” 

The prince appeared to shiver a little, but brushed it off sighing, “Oh, nothing.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Either it was Carroll or the King, but someone had spared no expense on the young prince. The sun set upon the sparking Nile where you had arrived at the Four Seasons Hotel Cairo at Nile Plaza. 

Anything for His Royal Highness The Prince. 

The towering and gleaming building was a sight to behold in and of itself. It was nestled right into the riverside anchored with several leisurely sailboats bopping in the evening breeze. As day crept into night, the city grew with a swell of lights washing as far as you could see. Extensive bridges and roadways glowed with headlights and every building appeared to be illuminated along with more boats strolling down the river in a rainbow of colors and music. 

The prince craned his head as close to the window as he could and rubbed together his hands excitedly. He looked from you to your partners, finally making a disapproving scoff. 

“Come on. You’re not just a little excited to be here?” 

“We’re here on business, how many times do we have to explain?” Jeongin typed away at his computer from the front seat. 

“Bee?” He looked back to you with a hopeful little glint to his eye. 

“Like Fox said...tomorrow is our appointment with White Rabbit, then we’re on the first flight back home for you.” 

The young prince frowned, but this quickly faded once he had seen the golden brass doors to the magnificent hotel. Seeing the state that the four of you were in, it was a bit comical that you had rolled up to a place such as this. Immediately a valet and bellhop jogged up to the car wearing perfectly pressed uniforms and spotless shined shoes. Little did they know you had no belongings to your name...the rest was waiting in your suite: the royal kind. 

Seungmin cranked his neck to take in the scale of the building in all of it’s regal glory and let out an airy laugh his with his backpack straps snapped tight. 

“Holy shit.” He exclaimed with a giant smile 

Two rose a “no thank you” hand to the valet, and asked him where the garage was in perfect Arabic. The gesture surprised you...as many things did with that man. Jeongin gave a little nod in appreciation to the bellhop and expressed with his own broken version of Arabic that you group had no luggage. The young man was confused, but still gladly took the bills that Jeongin had slipped into his hand for the inconvenience. 

“We’re staying here?” Seungmin wondered while he followed you in. 

“When you travel with The Prince, it comes with some perks.” Chan tore off his glasses with a particularly prideful grin. 

“I feel like I need to pay for just...breathing in here.” 

Indeed, it was a luxurious and grand place. The atrium was patterned with various plush lounge chairs and benches and the path was made of emerald green marble tiles with swirling designs of beige loops. Thick, round columns also supported the ceilings in the lobby, and crystal glass chandeliers sparkled. On several tables, massive floral arrangements had been freshly placed, and you wondered how much the hotel must've paid for them to look that good just to have them replaced the next day. 

A couple formalities were exchanged with the worker at the front desk, and soon the keycards to the royal suite were placed into your hands. Seungmin held his piece of plastic as if it were a gold bar in his hands whereas Chan shoved it right into his front pocket. 

“Everything that we should need should be up in the room.” You told the group who were too distracted to hear what you had just said. 

Just before you had entered the elevator, a tug at your sleeve stopped you in your tracks. Jeongin pulled you back, nodding at Two to go with the others up first. 

“Remember what we talked about before?” He muttered in the hollow and stone corridor. “About the prince?” 

“I need to stay beside him?” 

Your partner nodded with a furrowing brow. “We’re out in the open here, it’s a big city...anyone could be watching us. No distractions, no messing around, no anything. We see White Rabbit and we leave. Hell, I’m even inclined to make sure he doesn’t leave the room...” 

“Jeongin...” You squeezed your partner’s shoulder which felt stringy and tense under your fingertips. “I got it. Trust me. He won’t leave my sight. I promise.” 

“..Okay.” He said with a nervous brush to his hair, then he pressed the elevator button with his knuckle. 

“You...okay?” 

The young man appeared to snap out of a trance. “What? ...Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m keeping it together fine. It’s just...there’s a lot riding on this mission. I don’t...” 

The gold and reflective elevator dinged to the ground floor. 

“We can’t disappoint Carroll with this one. There’s too much riding on it...I can’t disappoint Carroll.”      

You invited your partner into the marbled and mirrored interior of the small space. 

“Don’t worry, we won’t.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━ 

 Even without the help of his royal helpers, Chan managed to clean himself up nice...provided, only the finest clothes had been sent for him to wear. While they weren’t the usual designer labels that he was used to, it was clear that they had been picked out from the finest markets and boutiques in the area. Chan, as he always was, was a prince to the full extent of the word. After a shower and some perfume to his chest, he was the same man that you had been introduced to. 

A loose linen shirt swayed from his frame with little regard for the usage of buttons. He wore slacks that had been pressed made of a kind of fabric that you had never seen before, but looked airy and comfortable. As always, there was a small assortment of shoes for him to choose from as well. He picked brown leather loafers, then tucked up his sleeves to reveal his arms; scratched as they were, but still strong and spiderwebbed with thick veins. 

Arrangements had been made for you to share one of the bedrooms with him--as much as you had fought it at first. Chan was thrilled with the idea, and gladly let you settle into his room with your small assortment of sidepieces and modest set of clothes by regulation of The Agency. While it had mostly been denim button downs and several kinds of functional trousers, they had sent an evening gown. 

The silky white fabric was not unlike the dress that had worn for the gala, but it appeared to be even more sultry once you held it to your frame. The thin spaghetti straps barely held to your shoulders and the back dipped nearly halfway down your back. 

Knowing the man that you had an appointment with, you figured the dress would make it just a little bit easier to talk to him. Along with it, there was a matching set of diamond earrings and a necklace that glinted with the same sheen of the sea. 

“You’ll look gorgeous in that.” Chan said while slipping on a wristwatch. “I’m sure that it will suit you perfectly.” 

The wooden bedside nightstand creaked when you put your holster and Glock in with a matching matte black knife. You had to be careful with that one, as it had nearly cut your finger upon inspection earlier.         

“Hm. I think the both of us know that you’d prefer it on these lovely marble floors rather than on me. Correct?” 

The confident prince strode across the room in the dim lighting of a couple lamps with stained glass shades. Outside of the balcony attached to your room, the sheer curtains blew in the night air and distorted the city lights across the river. Further, Cairo Tower surged with a pink light wrapping around the length were the cylinder pierced the sky. 

“Maybe.” He tutted, then crinkled the king-sized bed where he sat. The prince’s disposition was alluring, there was no denying. He tiled his head to inspect you further, jaw clenching with a sharp angle and a testing glare to his brown pupils. The man smiled slightly while rubbing his index and ring finger down the sleeve of your considerably less scratchy blouse. 

“I hope that during our time here Bee, I’ll get to know you a little better. I’m...really looking forward to our drink later. I made reservations for us.” 

“Reservations? When did you do that?” 

“Oh. When you were showering.” He smirked at his sneaky plans unbeknownst to you. 

“If you think that I’m letting you go anywhere else besides this hotel--” 

“--Bee?” The young royal grew quieter, softer, careful even. His hand cascaded from your arm down to your waist where he tentatively went to grab at your hip and squeeze lightly there. 

While your first reaction was to swat him away, your second crept up on you unexpectedly, and swelled with a kind of confused euphoria feeling the pressure of him on your body. You let his hand linger there, thumb pressed into your hipbone. 

“You don’t need that dress to be beautiful.” 

His words snapped you back; sickly sweet, and sticky in your chest. You cast his hand off of you. 

“You’re crossing the line, your Highness. Don’t...don’t touch me again.” 

The royal sighed as he rose, then inspected his face in the sizeable mirror. Each of his cuts and scars had been skillfully covered with makeup the best he could manage.  

“Bee, I’d cross multiple lines for you. I thought you knew?”    

“THIS BED IS FUCKIN’ AMAZING!!” Seungmin called from the opposite of the suite. 

The prince smiled, then followed you to the door. 

“I’ve already got enough on my hands, your Highness. I ask that you not distract me.” 

“Distract you?” 

As soon as you had said it, regret bit at the tips of your ears. You couldn’t meet his teasing glances, but rather slid one of your more discrete sidepieces into your crossbody bag--as if guns as such could be such a thing. 

“I-I...I’ll sleep on the couch.” You then resolved out loud, however the prince chuckled at your sudden break. 

“As you wish Bee.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“I think that this is the best meal that I’ve ever eaten in my entire life!!” 

Seungmin kicked his legs under the table to the embarrassed glances of both Jeongin and Chan. Before you, the prince had ordered a variety of both cold and hot mezzah dishes with a couple main entrees for you to share. While he was the only one to drink, he indulged in the most expensive wine that the hotel had to offer. Granted, everything would be paid for in cash from The Agency, however the Prince swore up and down that anyone could order anything that they wanted and that The Agency would be paid back in full. You and your partners ate modestly, however the young student didn’t hold back. As the boy shoved his face, it appeared to make the prince happy to see him eating so well. 

You were still an odd group, and garnered curious glances from other restaurant guests. While they were only glances in passing, they still didn’t make you feel any better. You had already drawn enough attention to yourself with you being an odd mix of foreigners who each held themselves differently. You could sense that you partner felt it too while he sipped at his seasonal soup with eyes up to scan the room as he did so. 

Chan threw his arm behind your chair to take in the rest of the room: perfectly decorated with jade green chandeliers and perfectly symmetrical wallpaper and furnishings. It was as if he felt somehow content with your strange little group; like he was the ringleader of it all or some king of the round table. For a moment, he paused to watch the way that the boats passed by on the river from the window nearest to him and sighed. Knowing him, he was probably enjoying running for his life in this way. 

Two cleared his throat and unbuttoned his fashionable suit jacket as the waiters came to clear the table for dessert. 

“So. What are the specs for tomorrow?” 

Jeongin fiddled with his glasses, then dabbed away at the corners of his mouth. “He’s invited us to come around 11pm. He wants us to dress up too--as I’m sure you’ve all seen the clothes that have been provided for us. He apparently loves his formalities, but, anything to make him feel more comfortable I suppose. His men will meet us in the front and take us to him, then we try our best not to fuck it up.”

“--Which we won’t.” You soothed your partner. 

Seungmin perked up, “I’m coming too?” 

“How else are we going to look after ya, kid?” Two ruffled up the young man’s hair. 

“W-wait. Didn’t you say that it’s a club? Will they even let me in? I’m not like, 21 yet? I mean, I will be in a couple months--” 

“--Ahhh you’re so cute.” Chan beamed. “If you’re rolling with us that doesn’t matter.” 

Seungmin blushed and played with the condensation of his water glass. “Oh.” 

Your partner shifted in his seat. “Speaking of. Considering that you’re “one of us” now. We need to discuss something important with you. Your identity.” He looked over to you to finish the rest of the speech that had been pushed off for just a bit too long. 

“Your name...is your most valuable asset. It’s the only thing about yourself that you can keep for yourself. No one else should know it besides you...and, well, us. If they know your name, they know your family, they know where you live, where you go to school, even that girl that you had a crush on in the fourth grade. Got it?” 

Seungmin gulped dry with blown out eyes. “I-I think that I understand.” 

“What do you want us to call you from now on?” 

He paused, considering towards the ceiling. ”Well...if you’re B, and he’s F...and he’s J...I could be S? Simple enough right?” 

“S it is then.” 

The waiters arrived with every dessert possible: chocolate cake, Crème Brule, fruit cheesecake garnished with mint, as well as traditional desserts like Om Ali and Mehalabiya--a type of milk pudding dressed with delicate, pink, edible flowers. 

Seungmin--now dubbed S--made happy little eating sounds while he tried a little bit of everything. 

“Thank you.” You finally spoke to the prince, who now smelled strongly of Lotus and Jasmine. 

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind treating my friends.” 

The word hung in the air, and you didn’t quite know what to do with it. 

Friends. 

“Where is this reservation that you mentioned?” 

He took a swing from his crystal glass with finesse. “Hm. That’s for me to know and you to find out.” 

“Jeongin told me that I need to keep an eye on you, you know that? It would be best if we didn’t leave the hotel at all--” 

“--But what would be the fun in that?” The prince nearly pouted. 

From the others side of the table, Two in his aviators brushed off his lap before standing. “I’m going to get some sleep, if that’s alright with you? I’m feeling pretty jetlagged and I want to be prepared for tomorrow. Excuse me.” 

The slender man bowed to you at the table, then even deeper to the prince. 

“What was that about?” Jeongin muttered while he poked at the thin caramel layer of his French dessert. 

“Actually, I think I want to head to bed too, I’m stuffed.” Seungmin rubbed his belly in his contentment. “Also...I think I might have homework due...heh. I don’t know...I’ve got to figure out all these all these time differences and stuff.” He pushed in his chair then gave the prince a deep bow. “Thank you, your Highness.” 

“My pleasure.” Chan said with a tiny bow back. “Rest up, kid.” 

With the empty holes at the table, the silence was deafening. 

“And then there were three.” Jeongin yawned. “Bee? Wanna do some laps in the morning? I saw that they had a pool? Wanna see if you can beat my record...again?” 

“Psh. I was coming off that biochemical cocktail the last time we tired. You had an advantage.” 

“Then you’ll beat me? Hm! I look forward to that.” Your adorable partner flashed the first smile that you’d seen in a couple days. You missed it, you realized. 

“Sleep tight Bee. Goodnight your Highness.” 

“Thank you Fox.” The prince mirrored his warm smile. 

Knives and forks clinked on china in the dining room, and music softly payed the soundtrack of the evening. A low hum filled the space where the tourists and patrons chatted among themselves. It was peaceful and normal amidst everything that had been pricking your skin and plaguing worry over your mind. The prince merely sighed, sparking eyes reflecting the candles dying out on the table. 

“And now it’s just the two of us.” 

“Seems like it.” 

“Can I whisk you away now?” 

“Whisk? Who said that I would allow any whisking?” 

“Come on...Bee. Just this one time? I promise to be on my best behavior.” 

You laughed out incredulously at the comment. “You out of all people can’t promise something like that.” 

“I guess you’re right about that. But...still, I won’t try to make a scene or anything.” 

The royal placed his napkin on the table with his knife and fork respectfully tilted off the edge of his plate. 

“Follow me?” 

Chan held out his hand. It was pink with heat and scraped a little from the glass that had pierced the fragile flesh. In some way, you had felt a twinge of guilt seeing the small injury knowing that you couldn’t have protected him well enough then. You allowed him to lace your fingers with yours, and felt the rough cuts of his scars in your palm. 

You had promised to yourself that he would never know such pain again. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“Annnd...this is it!” 

You had taken all of twenty paces outside of the hotel when Chan gestured with open arms to the riverfront. Just at the riverbank, a steamboat was anchored with open doors for hotel guests to enter. The massive, multideck, white steamboat shone like the moon peaking at the ocean’s horizon. Each of the semi-circle windows were lined with white lights and from the inside, the delightful sound of laugher and live music spilled out to the glossy water of the Nile. 

“W-what is this?” 

“Well…it’s a dinner cruise but I just signed us up for the bar part. Are you...surprised? I thought that it must be pretty safe considering that we’re on the water and no one can drive up and shoot at us.” 

“I mean...it’s a bit closed off, but nothing that I can’t handle.” 

The prince held out his arm for you to lead the way, then took your hand to help you watch your step down the stairs. Chan provided his name to the conductor in elegant sounding Arabic, leaving you shocked. 

“Y-you speak Arabic too?” 

Chan chuckled once more, taking your hand in his to bring you down the creaking wood deck with swinging with lanterns above your heads. 

“As a royal and diplomat, it’s best for me to know how to communicate if I might need to.” 

“I must say your Highness, I am definitely impressed.” 

“What? You thought I was just another pretty face?” The charming prince escorted you to a room within the steamboat that was lined with red velvet carpets and small bar tables with tea candles and water lilies floating in a shallow dish. He pulled out your chair before his own, then settled with hands folded in his lap. “I’m trained in hand-to-hand too, although I could use a refresher; that was so long ago, back when I went to school.” 

“Hand-to-hand? Well! You really are full of surprises.” 

The prince appeared smug and faintly amused by the compliment as he crossed his legs under the table and leaned in with his dizzying floral scent. 

The waitress appeared and Chan flexed his language skills once more while he ordered a Hemmingway Daiquiri for himself and a French 75 for you. Somewhere off in the distance or perhaps a different part of the boat, louder and more excitable music played along with the echoing claps of those who listened along. Here, it was much quieter, and the loud sound was replaced with a jazz song that you had heard before--likely from your more formative years. 

“It’s a beautiful night.” Chan began, “Thank you for agreeing to do this with me. I know that I’ve been a bit forward, but, I appreciate you entertaining me.” 

“If I had said no, what would’ve happened then?” 

“Well, maybe I would’ve dropped it, but...knowing you...I don’t think that I would’ve given up easily.” 

The waitress returned with the drinks on a silver platter: his grapefruit pink and yours the color of a lemon drop. 

The royal rose his glass for you to clink with yours, “To...adventures.” 

“To adventures.” 

With a resounding sound, the glasses met, and you watched the way that the shimmering liquid ripped across the prince’s nose. 

The two of you sat for several moments more, saying nothing, but sipping and soaking in the night breeze and the humidity that made your whole body feel blanketed with a sense of calm. You had felt this way before back at the safe house, and it snuck up on you once more. Simply exisiting with the prince provided you with a sense of solace that had long since faded from your life. The sense of responsibility that you felt for the man was noticeable, but you couldn’t help but notice how he provided for you the same sense of safety that you did for him. 

Perhaps it was the loneliness of the job and the solitude that came along with it. Was that you craved to be touched? Listened to? Admired? You had distanced yourself from irrational things such as love and other feelings of attachment. In your line of work, people died often, and you had to move on just as fast as their lives had been taken from them. You supposed that you had become unfeeling at this point...but this prince, so full of himself and focused on the material...there was something about him that reminded you how to feel. 

“Bee? What are you thinking about?” He asked carefully. 

“Oh...nothing.” 

“You looked kind of lost here.” 

“Was I?” 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah...yeah. I’m fine. Maybe the drink is just...getting to me.” 

“Just one drink?” Chan giggled a bit, “I didn’t take you for being a lightweight Bee. I thought that they gave you like, drinking lessons or something back at that agency of yours.” 

“I’m fine. I shouldn’t have more than one drink anyway.” 

The prince nodded, understanding. “So, what will you tell me about yourself? Is there anything that you’re allowed to tell me? Or...will you always be this mysterious, beautiful, enigma?” 

“Me? Enigmatic? Ha! Hardly.” 

“Well? What then?” The prince sucked at the lime garnishing his glass. “Since I don’t have the pleasure of knowing your real name, I’d love it if you could tell me something.” 

Over the stereo, the muted trumpet played along with the twang of thick upright bass strings,

“I suppose I could tell you how...” Chan leaned in, “I didn’t want to join The Agency. At first.” 

“Oh? Why’s that?” 

“It felt like a bit of a last resort and anything that is a last resort is something that can’t come easy.” 

Chan titled his head as if to say, I’m listening. 

“Life...fucking sucks sometimes. Sometimes...you’re left...living with your sleazy uncle with a letter addressed to you post mortem telling you to carry on the family name if you want to feel some connection to the parents that you never knew.” 

The royal cast his eyes down, “I-I’m so sorry.” 

“The Agency has been everything I’ve known since I was a teenager. This life...it’s everything. I think in a way I feel obligated to it...since it was what took my parents from me...I owe it to them to do a job that they spent so much energy on so that it wasn’t in vain.” 

You stopped, realizing the weight of your words in the air and how they cut like the blade of the knife that you kept tucked in your waistband sheathed in a leather cover. Once the sharp metal was taken from it’s confines, there was nothing to protect those from the damage it could do. 

“Bee...I don’t know what to say besides I’m sorry. That’s terrible. I can’t imagine what it must be like to loose your parents and have been thrown into this life...no one deserves that.” 

“Its okay.” You sighed. “I did it to myself. Now, it’s of no concern. I can take care of my own, and I have a new family. I try not to look back.” 

As he had done numerous times before that night, Chan’s hand reached out for yours under the table, brushing up against the white cloth. 

“I can’t say how much I appreciate you enough for what you do; risking your life for me...I owe you everything Bee.” The prince softened, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. 

The chug of the steamboat hissed softly behind you in that back bar room, and just through the windows, you could see the stars dotting the sky just as they did in any corner of the world. They were a reminder that while some things changed, others didn’t. 

The echo of footsteps on the deck clicked, causing you to turn a careful glance back to the direction of the sound. The man who entered was dressed in a casual cotton button up and navy slacks. On the white of his breast, he wore a pin holding the symbol of a crest.

“Lee Minho?” Chan gasped. 

“Your Highness!” The handsome man bowed immediately with a startled little smile. 

The friendly prince stood immediately upon seeing the other royal to shake his hand. “What a coincidence that we meet again!” 

Lee Minho shied with a polite smile while fiddling with his hair that looked to be masterfully styled. “Must be...fated. Or something like that.” 

“Are you alright? Last I saw you was at the shooting at the gala. I’m so glad to see that you’re safe. You didn’t get injured I hope?” 

This close, Lee Minho had oddly cat-like eyes that were as intense as they were alluring. He was just as you had remembered him to be--put together and polished like a true royal, dastardly handsome with all the right curves to his body, and just enough mystery to him to pique the interest of anyone who had sensed his air--just as the prince had. 

“What are you doing in Cairo?” Chan asked, gesturing for the stranger to pull up a chair. 

Lee Minho swatted away the question with an annoyed cringe. “Royal stuff, you know how it goes. Everyone is always trying to poke their noses in places where they shouldn’t be...unless they’re looking to get themselves killed. That's why they send me. I’m dispensable.” 

“Oh, I’d hardly say that.” 

In seconds the prince’s entire body had shifted towards the direction of the other man, and hung onto each of his words as if they were a siren song. 

“When you’re not as high up in the ranks as you are your Highness, royalty starts to feel more like servitude than a legitimate position.” 

“So, where are you poking your nose?” 

Lee Minho’s eyes nervously flicked to you, and Chan realized that he had skipped right over introductions. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce the two of you. Minho, this is Bee, my--” 

“--I’m a member of his detail.” You spoke for him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you formally Lee Minho. I recall seeing you at the gala.” 

Minho bowed slightly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” 

It was obvious that you had made the man uncomfortable, just as you had liked it to be. While you could see what the prince had seen in him, you had the disposition to be much less trusting than his Highness. 

“Which royals are employing you? I’d love to know! It’s always exciting for me to learn about who is plotting what. The royal drama keeps me really entertained.” 

Minho sat up straighter, then waved a hand for the waitress to come scuttling over. 

“Some of my family members. You wouldn’t know them, we’re all dreadfully insignificant to be honest. They heard all this business about those men with the red crests and they’re starting to get scared. After they targeted...you, they’re wondering which royal family might be next...if any. I’m here to find out who they are, their whereabouts, anything else.” 

“Wow! That’s actually what we--”

“--And where are you planning on getting this information if I may ask?” You hushed the prince’s loose lips as quickly as you could. 

Minho leaned in over the flickering candle to lower his tone, “I heard that there’s an informant here in the city who might now something about this group. They’ve been popping up on national news too as of late. I’m looking to talk to him tomorrow evening. Luckily, I was able to make an appointment but it was no small feat. I had to bribe him to high hell to get him to speak with me.” 

“Hm. Sounds familiar.” You mumbled. 

Chan’s eyes widened, then he looked back to you to ask for permission. You gave him a nod.

“It seems like we’re here for a common purpose my friend.” The prince leaned in to bridge the gap between them, his hand notably reaching to rest on the other man’s thigh below the table’s surface. “We’re seeking similar information and I think we might be speaking of the same informant.” 

“But your Highness, isn’t it dangerous it you to do something like this?” 

“Not when I’ve got her around.” Chan threw a sly grin to you across the table. “I’m well protected. And you? Where’s your detail?” 

“I’m afraid that I’m out here alone. Like I said, when you’re as low in the ranks as I am...” 

“What? That’s terrible!! They aren’t even protecting their own? Bee!!” 

“Yes, your Highness?” You already knew where this was going. 

“Let’s bring Minho along with us tomorrow! We know that there’s safety in numbers--” 

“Your Highness, in case you haven’t noticed, our hands are already a bit full...”

“I can fend for myself.” Lee Minho suddenly piped. “Travelling alone, I’ve picked up a few things about protecting myself. You don’t have to protect me, but, I appreciate the offer.” 

“Nonsense! You should come with us! I would feel more comfortable if you did rather than went by yourself.” 

Lee Minho gave the royal a smile in his thanks, it was pure and a little adorable you had considered...but that was likely the champagne going to your head. 

“Really? I appreciate it, your Highness.” 

While you were distanced, you nearly could’ve sworn that the prince had squeezed the other’s leg reassuringly, and you were willing to bet he had rubbed it with his thumb too just as he had done to you. 

After long, the waitress returned with Lee Minho’s drink, and the two men chatted like old college buddies while you slipped away at your drink in an attempt to make it last as long as you could. While Chan did try to engage you in conversation, it would never last for long until he would become puppy-eyed over the stranger again. In the end, you wondered if the tipsy prince would’ve also confessed to this man if he had one too many drinks. 

The table bumped with their jovial and restless legs, and you could only imagine what wandering hands sought to discover. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The hotel was quiet save for the click of heels on the marble floors from ladies who had just gotten off the steamboat and clung to their husbands in their drunken stupor. They cackled in the empty and golden lobby, then pressed hasty kisses into the stuttering mouths of their husbands who’s mouths then smeared with hot pick lipstick. Chan giggled at the sight while he tripped over his own feet too. 

“Ahhhh. Being in love is so cute.” He adored them once you had entered the elevator. 

“You’re not going to throw up on me, are you?” 

The prince hiccupped, then shook his head. “Unlike you I know how to hold my liquor. I’m fine. Just a bit sleepy I think. Must be the jet lag.” 

The tones for each floor beeped in the compartment, and Chan lulled his head back and forth. 

“So. Lee Minho huh?” You said, not even able to help yourself. The alcohol had brought you a bit of an edge...so you thought. 

“Lee. Minho.” He sighed out dreamily. “What do you think of him?” 

“I think I can’t trust anyone as long as I haven’t ran at least three background checks on them.” 

“Awww, Bee, you’re so thoughtful of me.” 

In the empty hallway, the prince with squinting eyes leaned against the doorframe to the royal suite, reaching out to brush up against your blouse once more. You let him, excusing his drunken state. After he did so, his eyes hazed over with something much different, while he looked exhausted, it was laced with something else: something much more longing. 

“Bee...fuck, I really want to kiss you again.” 

“Hm. That’s ripe coming from you who was just viciously flirting with Lee Minho.” 

You could see his head spinning in his dilated pupils. “What?” 

The door clicked open and you less than gracefully lead the prince through the dark to your shared bedroom. 

“B-Bee, what are you talking about?” 

You scoffed, “I’m not blind, you know.” 

“A-are you...jealous?” 

“W-what? Fuck no. I’m just...you can’t just...toss people around thinking that they’ll all bend to you.” 

Chan sat at the edge of the bed and rubbed at his temples when you turned one of the lamps on. 

“I-I was doing that?” 

You tore a pillow from the bed as well as the throw blanket at the end. “I’m sleeping on the couch. Good evening, your Highness.” 

“Wait! Bee!” The young prince stumbled after you, stubbing his toe against the bedpost in the process. “Ah-FUCK!” He grunted. 

“What?” You growled back to him, half shrouded in the darkness of the suite living room. 

The royal stumbled out, eyes blank and backlit from the bedroom. While you couldn’t see him fully, you later could assume that there was something in him terribly torn and ripped in that moment that made little sense to him, as it did to you to. 

Arms reached out, bodies softly illuminated by the lights of the city, and the prince leaned himself fully into you, pressing bitter tasting lips to yours with a heat and desire that only seemed amplified the breather he had gotten. While he tasted of lime and grapefruits, with a twinge of alcohol. He was just as addictive as any vice. You wanted to feel him. As infuriating as he was, and oblivious, your abhorrence to him was just as strong as your attraction. 

“Mm, Bee--” He moaned directly into your mouth while shuffling both of you back to the bedroom. 

The prince’s trembling breath floated from his mouth to yours where he used both of his large hands to pull your face closer to his. You knew that in some way, there must have been something ingenuine about the whole scenario, but you didn’t care too much, not when kissing him felt like something. Maybe he had kissed you out of pity, or because he really had wanted to kiss you. You broke for seconds before both of your tangled limbs hit the bed. 

“Before...you said that you wouldn’t kiss me.” 

“I didn’t make any promises...but, how come...you said that you wouldn’t hesitate...? But you kissed ba--” 

You silenced the prince’s words with your own heated kisses that made little sense, only that kissing him as such felt good. You straddled the man while his hungry fingers traced all the way down your back. The prince’s hips sunk into the cushiony mattress, and you screwed him down even harder into it with your own heated hips grinding into him with as much pressure as you could muster. 

“This is what you want, right?” You pulled at his lip with your teeth to hear him groan from it. 

“Is it...what you want?” Chan got out between more kisses. 

You could blame it on loneliness or lack of touch all that you wanted, but it wasn’t even close. 

“Wait. Wait.” Chan suddenly interjected. 

“What? What is it?” 

The prince looked up at you, that haze in his eyes now fading to something much different that wasn’t covered in the lust that he held before. 

“Bee...I-I don’t know if I want it to happen this way. It feels...it’s not...” 

“Not what?” 

He brushed his hand upward now to caress your face, lingering on the side of the peach fuzz on your cheek. “You deserve better than whatever the hell this is.” 

“Oh, so when I finally want to fuck you, you’re saying it isn’t right?” 

“I’m saying, I’m drunk, it’s late, clearly there’s something that’s upsetting you, and I want to know what it is before we do anything else. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

It might’ve been Lee fucking Minho, or it might’ve been something else much stickier for you to admit, but seeing the prince like this, it was too much. He was gorgeous under you, practically angelic looking. 

“I-I’m...complicating things.” You whispered out, and the prince softened even further. 

“That’s what it is? Bee, I told that you don’t have to worry about--” 

“--Yes. Yes I do...your Highness. I-I can’t feel...” 

“Bee--let’s just talk about--” 

The prince might’ve said more, but his words faded into murmurs once you closed his door behind you, then crawled onto the couch in Jeongin and Seungmin’s room, locking their door too. 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

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